The Seducer: A Gone From Daylight Inspired Story - 8. William Harker's Journal: Entry 8

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Sunday, September 9, 1989

Mike isn’t back yet.

I have to admit, I’m a little worried. Mike’s a bit flakey around the edges, but he’s pretty reliable as far as time’s concerned - especially when breakfast is in the deal. We’ve gotten into the habit of walking over to the local diner and ordering big breakfasts on Sunday mornings. He, actually, got me into the idea since I never did have much of an appetite in the morning.

But, not this Sunday! This Sunday, he’s still not back from Friday! Also, I still can’t get that horrible dream out of my head! Frankly, I’ve been scared to leave the dorm since Friday night! It’s this irrational fear . . . like someone is hunting me and I’m next to become splattered all over the wall!

Where is Mike? I wish we could afford pagers! At least I could buzz him to give me a call to let me know he’s all right!

Oh no! That was a mistake!

I just turned on the TV and the local news was on . . .

That girl we were with, Katrina Vanzing - she’s been reported missing!

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Well, late as it is, Mike did just walk through the door a little while ago.

I asked him, basically, ‘what the hell?’ He didn’t have much to say other than that he was walking with us and then he found himself waking up in a hospital room with a massive headache! They kept him over night and then released him this afternoon after some observation. Apparently, he’d been out for hours!

I then asked him what happened to Katrina because she’s been reported missing.

Disturbingly, Mike had no idea who I was talking about! I told him about Katrina Vanzing, how we met her at the bar, and how she was walking with us on the street and then wham! The next thing I remember was waking up in my own bed after having my nightmare.

Mike just shrugged it off thinking that, perhaps, I’d dreamed up Katrina because he didn’t know anyone by that name! But, then I remembered the card Katrina had given me and I found still in my jeans pocket from that night.

Mike just shrugged that off too. He insists he never met the girl.

I guess I can chalk it up to his, maybe, having a concussion from whatever hit us. I didn’t go into any of the specifics of the dream I had. There’s no sense confusing Mike any more than he already seems to be.

He went to bed shortly after our talk. I figure he really needs the rest. Hospitals aren’t really good places to rest from what I’ve seen with the round the clock care and all.

I wondered if I should contact the police about Katrina? If my recollection is anything like my dream about last night, then I could be a material witness to her possible murder or assault or something! I have her card, but . . . I honestly don’t trust my mind on this! Except for the card, I can’t really account for my lost time and having met Katrina at all! It’s possible I have a concussion too! Perhaps, I should go to the university student medical center and get checked out myself! If I check out then maybe I need to report what I can remember to the cops. But, what if that implicates Mike and me in the girl’s disappearance? That’s a chilling thought! If she’s found dead we’d be the prime suspects!

I can’t help but feel very uneasy about all of this!

How could such an ordinary evening turn into something this distressingly bizarre and worrisome?

Why do I have the strange feeling this has something to do with some of those weirdos I met at the Salon Rouge, too?

Here I thought the most excitement I’d get out of my first semester here at Stanford was new classes and meeting some new people my age. Now I feel like I’ve just walked into a who-done-it detective show complete with missing women, weird cults, and a friend with convenient amnesia!

Again Mike . . . what the hell?

Also, how did I get home?