After the Cabin by Amy Cross

what was real and what wasn't, but I keep coming back to the same basic facts: I hallucinated an image of Jennifer, who couldn't possibly have been there, and then I thought I spoke to Matt, who claims he didn't come. While all of that was happening, what was I really doing?
    Finally giving up, I turn and start heading back along the walkway. A train rattles below as evening commuters head home, but just as I get to the top of the steps I happen to notice the solitary security camera watching over the scene, with a red light on the side. Looking closer, I see the name of the security company on the side.

Eight
     
    “No,” he replies, scratching the back of his neck as he leads me along the gloomy corridor, “actually, in all the time I've worked here, you're the first person who's ever knocked on that door. You'd think people might be a little more curious, right? Wrong.”
    “I'm really sorry to bother you,” I continue, “but... I'm sorry, what did you say your name was again?”
    As we reach the door at the far end of the corridor, he turns to me. “Freddie. Freddie Gray.”
    “Hi, Freddie,” I say, forcing a smile that's probably extremely awkward. “Like I said on the phone, I was hoping you could let me see some footage from the camera on that metal walkway near the train station.”
    “Number 8225?”
    “Yeah, I...” Reaching into my bag, I pull out my phone and find the photo I took. Holding it up, I realize my heart is racing. “That's the one. I know this must seem weird, but something happened up there the other night and if there's any chance that you've got footage...”
    “We'll have footage, alright,” he replies, “we keep everything for six months, but do you have a warrant?”
    “Do I need one?”
    “Are you familiar with the amount of legislation surrounding closed-circuit cameras in this country?” he asks, raising an amused eyebrow. “Any properly secured monitoring system can only be accessed by employees of the company in question, or by officials who have a valid warrant.”
    “It's not like I need a copy or anything,” I tell him, “I just really, really need to see what happened on that walkway on Thursday morning at around quarter to one. If it's any help, I'm pretty sure the only person in the shot is going to be me, so there's not really a privacy concern.”
    “Still got rules.”
    “I can't get a warrant,” I continue, starting to feel desperate. “It's just a personal thing, I have to see whether...” Sighing, I realize that there's no way I can explain the situation to him without sounding insane. Hell, maybe I am insane. “If I go to the police,” I say finally, “and try to get them to help me... I mean, they won't, I'm sure of that, but if there's any chance...”
    “Do they have an open investigation?” he asks.
    I shake my head.
    “Then I don't think they'll be able to help you. Sorry.”
    Sighing, I realize that even though the footage I need is just on the other side of this door, I can't get through. I mutter some words of thanks, before turning and starting to hurry back toward the exit.
    “Hold up!” he calls out to me. “You didn't ask me about the rules concerning cameras that aren't properly secured.”
    Stopping, I turn to him.
    “And that,” he adds with a stubbly smile, “is where I can help you.”
     
    ***
     
    “Do you have any idea,” he mutters as he turns the tracking ball to rewind through the grainy footage, “how many CCTV cameras in the world are improperly set up?”
    “Is it a lot?” I ask.
    He sighs. “It's ridiculous. So many of these systems are supposed to be secured, but their I.P. addresses end up mis-configured so they can be viewed online without a password. It's basic poor management, if you ask me, but that's what you get when you hire people who don't have the necessary qualifications. This might seem like a pretty dull job, but I take it as seriously as I would being a brain surgeon. So many cameras have