By the time the third nurse, Brielle Summers, arrived with swollen eyes and a positive test in her shaking hand, Conrad could no longer pretend the situation did not demand scrutiny. Three pregnancies connected by nothing except their assignment to the same comatose patient. Three sets of medical charts indicating circumstances that defied ordinary explanation. He began reviewing security logs, badge scans, anything that might reveal unauthorized access to Room 614. He found nothing. The room appeared undisturbed each time he checked, still and lifeless, with Logan lying under crisp white sheets.
The hospital board summoned him for an emergency meeting when the fourth pregnancy was reported. The members spoke in low voices, each sentence laced with anxiety. The chairwoman, Katherine Bell, leaned forward.
“We cannot allow gossip to grow. If this escalates, we risk a press frenzy. This hospital’s reputation is at stake. You will investigate quietly and give us answers grounded in science.”
Conrad promised to do so, although his confidence felt shaken. He spent nights combing through case studies and obscure journals, searching for precedents involving neurological conditions that triggered bizarre hormonal effects in caregivers. He found nothing credible. The words supernatural conception appeared in fringe material, but he dismissed them as sensationalized nonsense.
When the fifth nurse, Marina Foster, visited with trembling lips and said she was frightened to sleep, Conrad felt something cold unravel inside him, like a cable snapping in the dark.
“I do not feel alone when I sit with him,” Marina whispered. “Sometimes I feel watched. Sometimes I feel something brush past me, although nothing is there. I know how absurd it sounds. I am sorry.”
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.