Who am I, really?

When you find yourself on a hospital bed, body reeking with pain, your only recent recollection is non-existent...you can't help but wonder where am I? and what has just happened? A pain in my chest was almost unobtainable, unmentionable... I was lying on my side on a cold medical bed... like the kind they perform surgeries on. My hazy vision began to clear, and I looked up and around examining the strange room I had found myself in. The walls, the sealing, the ever flickering fluorescent lights were blinding. It felt cold and sterile. Something, though, was off. Would a typical operating room REALLY have a vaulted door like the ones at the banks...? Small dabs of blood speckled the gray floor. Another surge of pain came over me like a wave of electricity. Looking down into my body, I saw a stitched wound where my heart should be. Did I have a heart attack?! Other stitches were all over my body closing up deep wounds, but many of the stitches matched the mass of the one across my chest. Did I just undergo some horrific surgery??!

Just then the door's thick tumblers were undone from the outside. A tall female human walked in a white laboratory coat. She had dark hair and her name tag read 'Francesca Stein'. "I've been watching you from the security cameras," her brown eyes gesturing towards in security cameras in the corner, adjusted in my direction. "Vitals signs are good... You seem to be in decent spirits... Why, I might even say you're in for a full recovery!" The whole scene was just so fishy. "You call this good spirits? AND MOST OF ALL, where the heck am I?! The look on her gently aged face was bland. She was now standing near the bed, arms folded behind her. "You're in the operation ward of the 'underground operations facility' - the UOF. Here, I brought a little pressie for you!" She seemed so light-hearted in such a dreary time.

From her large pocket she pulled out a necklace with dog tags, like the ones men in the US armies have for their soldier. On it was written 'ACOUS'. "Is that my name...?" I asked her. "Well... it is now. Just lift your neck up for me." I scrapped up a little nerve to comply when I just wanted to run and I scrapped up a little energy to lift my still dizzy head. As Francesca tied it around me she said "Artillery Canine Of Undisclosed Services." I mirrored back rudely "Artilla-what?!" She groaned. "Hard of hearing now, are we? You are the Artillery Canine Of Undisclosed Services - ACOUS for short." "Why am I named that and... is that my true name before all this mess happened?" My name didn't feel familiar... it didn't feel real to me. My eyes begged for answer. "No... I don't know your true name. From what I heard you were in the war. A soldier of sorts. You were terribly injured... In fact, you've been in coma for a month recovering. Your legs, most of your ribs, a few discs in your spine, your hips, your tail and even a great portion of your scull was fractured. The bones were replaced with iron plates. Roughly 80% of your body is now iron. But that is not why you are ACOUS. She continued with

BOMB?! one simple word that would unnerve anyone, specially in such a tense situation. "Yeah," she continued "I was commissioned by the government to replace your ruptured heart with a bomb that could blow us all to high heavens! That baby took hours, but the operation ran beautifully!" She snorted. BEAUTIFUL?! This is 'beautiful' to you??!" "Acous, don't get angry!!" "How dare you... I don't even know who I am..." I cliched my teeth in anger. I felt like crap, like a pawn, a drone made for the government's bidding. I couldn't remember a single thing about who I am... or who I was, at this point. She sighed. You could tell she was obviously guilty. "Acous," she whispered. I didn't want to hear another word, but before I could hush her she continued in a low, almost inaudible tone. " I know who you are. Wait for my check up with you... I will tell you more. " With that she left the room, the thick metal door locking behind her with a wondrous ka-chunk, clank clank clank clank. That was that, I guess. Having the feeling I might find out more gave me hope, but not enough to bring my spirits up.

Strange Dreams

Nightfall came, I guess. Whether it was truly night or not, I don't know because there were no windows in my 'jail cell' that they call a room. I spent many hours of staring at the ceiling, watching the clock tick, running circles in my head about where I came from. The more questions arose in my head, the fewer answer I had. Sleep at last arrived. The world behind my eyelids fluttered about with vivid but lucid dreams. "Jackson..." a man's scewed voice cried out in my dreams. "J-Jackson!!" Slowly translucid visions came to play. I could tell I was lying on my back looking up at a red smoke filled-sky. The smell of gunpowder, smoke and gasoline filled the air. Familiar but unknown faces looked down upon me. "Is he dead?" one asked. "He won't make it, he's too far gone..." another said. "We need to report him back to base..." And then everything was gone, the dream ended there. The oddest thing is how often these dreams would occur. They were always the same but each time more and more details revealed... yet nothing that could help me identify myself. Maybe I was 'Jackson', the one they were calling to? But... who were they? Did I even know them before I got here?

Another vision that came to me, like a dream yet unlike a dream.... A young girl who looked like me. She was about ten years younger than me (in canine years of course). Her eyes were the most clear thing in the vision. They were sad. The rest of her was fuzzy, but I'd never forget how her silver eyes would never stop staring with an occasional tear. Once, she spoke. "Don't you remember?

...

Woke up in a cold sweat as the tumblers on my door came undone from outside. In walked miss Stein yet again. "It's been a week, Acous." She smiled. "I wouldn't know... I lost track of days." is all I managed to say. She took a flashlight and shined the blaring beam into my eyes. "Vital signs are good."