Disclaimer: I still don't own the show. Too bad, really.
Chapter Two: Clarity
For the moment, I am silent. Eventually, I know, I will have to respond, but for now I'm quiet, thinking.
Somehow, I have to give the hospital an adequate explanation. Choice Number One, the truth, is starting to look far less than adequate. I know the nurse will never believe me. I doubt anyone will.
My only other option is to lie, and this I do as convincingly as I can. "I don't know," I say. "I guess I must be someone else, someone I've forgotten. I mean, I don't even remember how I got here…." My voice trails off.
The nurse seems to buy my amnesia story, a stroke of good fortune for which I'm glad. She nods at my assessment of the situation, then excuses herself to leave the room for a minute. When she returns, it is with a newspaper in hand.
"Want to catch up?" she asks, offering it to me.
"Thanks," I reply gratefully, accepting it and skimming the front page. My gaze falls first on the date, one in late 2005. I simply absorb the information, pleased that the discrepancy is only about six months. I have no strength left to be surprised by anything else, I suppose.
Until, that is, I take in the rest of the paper and finally notice the name.
In my hands is a copy of the Los Angeles Beacon.
Coincidence, I assure myself, that's all. But, not really believing it, I browse the articles, searching.
All thought of coincidence goes out the window when I find what I'm looking for. Beneath a headline about the mystified authorities working a missing persons' case is the byline of Carl Kolchak.
I freeze, the pieces beginning to come together as, at the same time, everything that once made sense shatters.
Meanwhile, the nurse addresses me. "Anything jump-starting your memory?"
I shrug and shake my head.
"Oh," she says. "Well, maybe if you just start walking around you'll be able to figure things out. If not, you can always come back."
"That's what I was thinking," I respond, nodding. After a moment I hold up the paper and add, "Can I take this with me?"
"Feel free," answers the nurse agreeably. "We've got lots here. Beacon being right up the street, and all."
"Is it?" I try not to sound too eager.
"Yeah," she says, crossing to the window and pointing down the road. "See that streetlight? The building just past it, on the left – that's them."
I nod with a smile that I hope befits an interesting bit of trivia I don't care much about and will forget by tomorrow. All the while, I'm burning the location into my mind, knowing that that's where what could possibly be my only hope for safety, for help, for answers, lies.
---
Once I'm released from the hospital, I head down the sidewalk purposefully. As I wait at the corner for the light to change so I can cross the street, I begin to wonder at just how this is going to sound. How can I get them to believe me? How can I even convince them to hear me out? I'm not sure, but I know it's not going to be easy.
By the time I near the building, I've decided to play it by ear and hope for the best. I approach the doors with this plan in mind only to have Carl walk out the same doors mere yards away from me.
Uncharacteristically, I throw caution to the winds. "Mr. Kolchak!" I call.
He turns. "I need to talk to you," I say.
"Sorry," he replies, looking confused and not extremely apologetic, "I have to go do an interview. I'll be back in a little while."
Soon he's gone and, with nothing better to do, I commandeer a bench and sit down to wait for him.
True to his word, it's not long before he returns. I walk up to him once more, and his expression tells me he's more than a little surprised. "You're still here?"
"Well, I've got nowhere else to go."
"Why's that?" he asks. He clearly would have been happier to see me go away.
"Because," I reply sincerely, "I don't exist."