It was then that Conrad took action. He waited until the corridors fell silent and the facility lights dimmed to night mode. Then he unlocked Room 614 using his clearance card and stepped inside. The machines hummed steadily. Logan’s chest rose and fell. The floral arrangements from his family still hung on, wilted at the edges but intact. Conrad moved toward the ventilation grate in the corner, where he discreetly inserted a small camera with audio pickup and a motion trigger. His pulse thrummed as he worked.
“Forgive the intrusion,” he murmured to the unconscious man. “I need to protect these people. I need to protect you too.”
He sealed the grate and left, feeling the weight of the door closing behind him like something irreversible.
The footage waited until morning. Conrad brewed coffee with hands that trembled slightly and locked himself inside his office. He downloaded the files, opened the first recording, and pressed play. For hours, nothing happened. A nurse adjusted blankets. Machines beeped. Lights flickered with the rhythm of electricity. He felt foolish for allowing his imagination to run rampant.