This story ended up being much longer than I had originally anticipated, so I decided to break it up into two parts. Hopefully, Part 2 will get published in the next day or so.
Constructive comments are always welcome and appreciated. Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. As always, remember this is a work of fiction and not a docu-drama...
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April 7, 2019:
Over and over again, he kept experiencing the same thing -- a bright flash of light, followed by searing pain, then darkness. From time to time, he would hear voices, but couldn't make out who they were from or what they were saying. He tried to speak, but couldn't. He tried to move but was unable to.
This time, however, the light was different. It was like looking through a fog but he couldn't make anything out and he couldn't focus on anything. Shadowy figures passed before him, and he tried calling out, but couldn't.
He began hearing noises but nothing he heard made any sense. He forced himself to move, but wasn't able to. He tried screaming, but nothing came out. Exhausted, he stopped to rest and the darkness came over him again.
A while later -- he didn't know how long -- the light returned. He willed himself to move and was finally able to, but it took all of his strength. He tried to yell, but the only thing that came out was a sickly gurgle. He felt like something was in his throat keeping him from talking.
A shadow moved in front of him, stopped for a moment and then ran off, making a loud noise. He saw more shadows, this time coming closer and gathering around him. He blinked his eyes, hoping to clear his vision. The shadows moved quickly around him, doing things to him he couldn't understand.
Then he heard someone speak.
"Mr. Smith, can you hear me?" a man's voice said. Who the fuck was 'Mr. Smith,' he wondered. Nevertheless, he could hear the man and tried nodding his head. It took a lot of work but he finally managed a weak nod.
As his vision began to clear, he could tell that he was in a hospital bed and the people around him -- all dressed in medical garb -- were working frantically to bring him back to consciousness. A man he presumed was a doctor mentioned something about seeing if he could breathe on his own. Soon, he felt tape being pulled off his face, and something was being pulled out of his throat.
Panting, he suddenly realized his throat was clear of obstruction and he took a few tentative breaths on his own, relishing the feel of inhaling air on his own.
"Good, good," the man said.
As he looked around, he could see a number of wires attached to his body, along with a blood pressure cuff on his upper arm and an IV inserted into his lower arm. He could also feel the catheter that had been placed inside his penis.
Looking on the wall, he saw the thinnest television he had ever seen in his life and noticed the chyron along the bottom of the screen that said something about a President Trump.
"Trump?" he asked himself. How long had he been here? The last he knew Barack Obama had only been in the White House for a few months.
"How... long?" he asked, weakly. The doctor looked at his thick chart before answering.
"From what I can tell, about 10 years, Mr. Smith," he said. Ten years? What the hell happened? And who was this Smith guy they all referred to, he wondered. "Just relax, Mr. Smith, we're going to check you out and get you set up for rehab."
As he watched, the nurses took his arms and legs out of the restraints holding him in the bed and the doctor made adjustments in his notes. He looked at another nurse before speaking.
"Do we have Mr. Smith's contact information available?" he asked. A young nurse looked in her computer and answered in the affirmative. "Very well, reach out and let them know." The nurse began making a call and the man wondered who would be coming to see him. His memory was still a bit foggy, but he remembered being married with an eight-year-old daughter.
My God, he thought, my daughter, Jenny, would be 18 now and probably ready to go to college. He thought about his wife, Lydia, but for some reason didn't seem to interested in seeing her. Something about seeing his wife -- he wasn't quite sure what -- actually repulsed and angered him.
"Well, Mr. Smith," the doctor said, "your vitals look good, but we're going to run some tests anyway. Once we get those back, we'll get this feeding tube out of you and get you up to your room. You're going to be our guest for a little while but we'll get you into a rehab facility and get you back on your feet, okay?" The man nodded.
"Doctor," he said, "who's 'Smith?'" The doctor looked down at his notes before looking back at him.
"Why, you are," he said. "It seems you may be experiencing some amnesia. I'm not surprised, really. You've been through a lot. That's okay. We'll get someone in to work with you. Now, you just relax and we'll get you set up." With that, the doctor left, giving instructions to a couple of nurses on his way out.
The man knew who he was, and it wasn't this "Smith" character. His name was Avery Wilson. He was born in 1972 to Dan and Barbara Wilson. He had a brother, Robert, who was a year older than him. He joined the Army at 18 right out of high school and was trained to become a sniper. He spent the next four years in various trouble spots around the world, including Kuwait.
He survived Desert Storm and finally got out in 1994, and went home to southern California, where he completed his Associate Degree in criminal justice in 1996. He had always wanted to be a policeman, so he joined the LAPD, where his military training was put to use. After graduating from the police academy, he was made a sharpshooter in 1997.
He met Lydia Jackson and after two years of dating, married her in 1999. Things were great, he thought, and their daughter, Jennifer, came along in October 2000. He stayed with the force while his wife worked as an attorney for the same firm where his brother was a partner. He won a rather large lottery in late 2008 and things went downhill from there.
About the time he won the lottery, he learned quite by accident that his wife had been in a long-standing affair with his brother. Fortunately, his good friend and confidant, Ben Jacobs, had talked him into letting him set up an overseas account under a different name so Lydia couldn't access most of his lottery winnings.
Ben, being an expert on things financial, managed the account for him. He also put him into contact with a real shark of an attorney who hated cheating spouses, and hated Robert even more. He also set up surveillance on Lydia and Robert and had managed to get pictures and video of their trysts.
He had planned on confronting his wife about her affair, but something happened. He couldn't remember the details of that night, but he was sure that it would all come back to him soon. The next thing he remembered was waking up in this hospital ward 10 years later.
Exhausted, he laid his head back down and watched the television as the nurses did their jobs. But who was this "Smith" character? What was that all about?
He considered his life as he watched the local news. According to the news, a Robert Wilson had declared himself to be a candidate for public office. He wondered if this Robert Wilson could possibly be his brother. As he watched, a well-dressed man with a bit of gray at his temples addressed a group of people outside a building somewhere in downtown Los Angeles. Next to him were two women -- Lydia and a teenage girl who looked like a grown-up version of his Jenny.
