MY BROTHER’S DOCTOR SAID HE’S STABLE, BUT HIS CHART FELL OPEN ON THE FLOOR
The nurse stopped me just outside his door, a strange, tight look on her face I hadn’t seen before.
She shifted her weight, the movement stiff, and the air around us smelled sharply of disinfectant and something metallic. “There’s… something you need to know,” she began, her voice barely a whisper, eyes darting nervously down the empty hall. My hands felt instantly clammy, a cold sweat prickling on my neck.
“Is he okay? Is he worse? What is going on?” I demanded, voice louder than intended in the sterile corridor. My heart hammered against my ribs. She wouldn’t meet my eyes, fixated on the floor.
Her hand trembled as she held a clipboard, fingers tight around the metal clip. As she gestured towards the door, the chart she held slipped from her grasp, pages fluttering onto the linoleum floor with a soft rustle. One page landed face up at my feet, a cryptic line circled in bright red ink that made my blood run cold.
Just as I registered the shocking words, feeling dizzy, a tall figure in a dark suit appeared at the far end of the hallway, walking purposefully towards us, steps echoing sharply. He wasn’t alone in that room after all; I heard someone else whisper his name.
👇 Full story continued in the comments…PROTOCOL 7G – IMMEDIATE RELOCATION. The words swam before my eyes, stark red against the clinical white page. Immediate relocation? My brother was in hospital, recovering from… from something the doctors had been vague about, but insisted he was getting *better*. Stable, the doctor had said less than an hour ago. What kind of stability required immediate relocation under a “protocol”? My gaze shot from the terrifying words on the floor to the tall figure in the dark suit now rapidly closing the distance, and then back to the nurse whose face was pale with abject fear.
“No, don’t look!” the nurse gasped, making a frantic, clumsy attempt to scoop up the fallen pages. But the man in the suit was faster. His steps were long and silent on the linoleum until he was right beside us. Without breaking stride, he bent fluidly, retrieving the chart with a single, practiced motion before the nurse could even touch it. His eyes, dark and intense, flicked over the open page for just a second before he closed it with a crisp snap of the clip.
“Agent Sterling,” he said, his voice low but carrying absolute authority, not introducing himself *to* us, but stating his name as if confirming his presence for some unseen audience. He didn’t offer a hand, his attention solely on the door to my brother’s room. “Is he ready?”
Another voice, closer this time, from just inside the slightly ajar door, replied, “Identified. Vitals stable for transit.” That was the whisper I had heard, coming from inside the room. Transit?
“Transit?!” I finally found my voice, though it shook. I stepped forward, putting myself between Agent Sterling and the door. “What transit? Who are you? The doctor said he was stable! What is going on?!”
Agent Sterling stopped, his gaze finally settling on me. There was no warmth or reassurance in his expression, only a cold, assessing focus. “Ma’am, your brother, Mark, is indeed medically stable,” he confirmed, echoing the doctor’s words in a strangely detached way. “However, his presence here has drawn unwanted attention. He is being moved to a secure facility.”
“Unwanted attention? Secure facility? Is he in danger?” My mind reeled. Was this related to whatever had put him in here in the first place? “Who are you people? You can’t just take him!”
The nurse wrung her hands, looking like she might bolt. Agent Sterling gave her a brief, cutting glance that silenced any potential protest. Then he turned back to me.
“We are ensuring his safety, ma’am,” he stated flatly, his hand already reaching for the door handle. “Agent Roberts is securing his belongings inside. Your brother is a material witness in a sensitive matter. This relocation is not a medical procedure, but a necessary security protocol. Protocol 7G, as you saw.” He gestured vaguely towards the chart he now held securely.
“A witness? Sensitive matter? What are you talking about? He was in an accident!”
“That ‘accident’ was not accidental,” Sterling said, his voice dropping just slightly. It was a chilling revelation, explained with horrifying casualness. “He was targeted. He will be safer under our protection. You will not be able to see him now, but we will contact you regarding approved communication channels in the future.”
He made a move towards the door again. “No! You can’t just take him without explaining anything! I’m his sister! I have rights!” I lunged forward, trying to stop him, but a second figure in a dark suit, who had silently appeared behind Agent Sterling, placed a firm but gentle hand on my arm, preventing me from getting closer. He wasn’t aggressive, just implacable.
Agent Sterling ignored my protests, opened the door wider, and stepped inside. Through the gap, I caught a brief glimpse of two more people in suits, and a figure sitting up on the bed, my brother Mark, looking pale but awake, watching them with wide, frightened eyes. He turned his head and saw me standing in the doorway, reaching for him. His expression shifted from fear to a desperate plea, a silent ‘Help me.’
But the door was already swinging shut. The man holding my arm didn’t release me until the door clicked firmly closed, separating us entirely. The nurse stared at the closed door, her face still frozen in fear.
The second agent let go of my arm and nodded curtly to Agent Sterling, who was now standing outside the door again, the chart tucked under his arm. “Proceeding,” Sterling said into a small device he held to his ear.
“Wait!” I pleaded, my voice breaking. “Is he okay? Is he… really safe?”
Agent Sterling met my gaze one last time. “He is stable, Ma’am,” he repeated, using the word that now felt like a mockery. “And he is safe *with us*.” There was a finality in his tone that crushed any hope of seeing him again, at least not anytime soon, not like this.
Then, without another word, Agent Sterling and the second man turned and walked quickly down the hallway, their footsteps receding, leaving me alone in the sterile corridor with the trembling nurse, the lingering smell of disinfectant, and the chilling realization that my brother was no longer just a patient recovering in a hospital bed, but someone caught in a world of secrets, protocols, and men in dark suits. He was stable, yes, but his life, and mine, had just been irrevocably relocated onto a path I couldn’t follow.