She drove back through sheets of rain, water lashing the windshield. In Room 304, Caleb was awake, Rachel at his side. As Helen entered, he looked up with a focus she hadn’t seen before. “Map…?” he rasped. Rachel squeezed his hand. “She found it, Cal. Your work. The one they buried.”
Helen laid the salvaged pages on a tray table, in clear plastic protectors. Caleb’s eyes tracked the shapes. His fingers moved weakly, tracing lines in the air that matched the red circles. “These… vents,” he managed. “Too… tight. Need… release. Or… ridge…” His hand shook, miming an invisible fracture.