Some exciting news on FORGETTING:

We will be publishing the complete story on eBook readers (Kindle, iBooks, Nook) on August 16, 2011!

If you don’t have any eBook reading devices, the book will be available for download as well.

More details to come soon, but for now follow us on Twitter @ForgettingBook

Thanks to all who have been following so far and those that have helped promote the book online.  Keep it up!

Love,

Eric

Alex opened his eyes – slowly. He was still a bit groggy and wasn’t sure if he could focus yet.

He strained to look at his surroundings. He was in a large van. It was moving. He was tied up with his hands behind his back.

There were three other passengers in the van. The man with the boots – the one that had overturned his car, was in the driver’s seat. He was young, maybe mid-twenties. He had long black hair and glasses. He wore army fatigues, but they didn’t fit him well at all.

In the front passenger seat was the beautiful blonde from earlier. She had on black clothes that were very flattering. Her hair was in a ponytail, you could tell she didn’t care much about personal appearance, but it came naturally to her. She was staring at her watch every few seconds.

In back of Alex was the third person. He wasn’t able to get a good look, but he knew they were holding the machine gun that the man driving had carried after the crash.

They didn’t! She could hardly believe it. She told them never to use force.

She ran towards them, fury in her breath.

She rounded the bushes. There on the ground, covered in blood, was one of the men from the team. The shot didn’t come from them. It was the old man.

The team had him in a headlock. They had confiscated his gun. As they turned to see Annie they were just as surprised to see her as she was at the spectacle before her.

Now she was in too deep. A man dead? How was she going to explain this?

“Hold him.” She said coldly. “Watch out for witnesses.”

The man started to struggle. He murmured and cried under the men restraining him. He tried to say something, but one of the men had their hand tightly over his mouth.

Annie’s phone rang. She knew who it was and she knew she couldn’t ignore it.

She turned around and answered.

“Annie.” The voice was calm, she hated the way he was so calm.

“Yes sir.” She tried to act as innocent as possible, but she could tell he already knew everything.

“I’m looking at a file for Alex Pomodoro…”

“I’m taking care of it sir.” She lied, cutting him off.

At that moment, the old man was able to break free. He ran down the driveway of the Pomodoro house and was struck to the ground with a bullet in the head.

Annie was in shock, she couldn’t believe what just happened. She looked to the man who fired the shot. He had done it so quickly and coldly.

The two remaining members of the team put their guns away and began cleanup on the two bodies.

Annie stood frozen with dismay. A tear formed in her eye.

“Hello?” The voice from the phone was becoming agitated.

Annie realized and put the phone back up to her ear.

“He will be taken care of sir.” Then she hung up.

Annie showed up at the house around four. She pulled up alongside the team and they talked. The three gentlemen in the car had become restless. They didn’t understand what they were doing there and were beginning to ask questions.

It was all Annie could do to keep them focused on the task. She finally had to relent and tell them to check out the house. She didn’t want it to come that far, but she was running out of options.

“Do it quickly and make sure no one sees you.” She told them.

They agreed so she left them to their task. She drove around the corner and parked, there was no way she was going to leave it all to them.

As she snuck her way back, she noticed that one of the neighbors was spying on them. She wanted to yell out to the old man but she didn’t want to attract any notice from the team, or from any of the other neighbors.

Then the old man did something foolish. He approached the team.

Before Annie could stop him, a gun shot went off.

Annie had waited far too long for a report. She had sent a team earlier to try and recover Alex if he had returned home. She clung to her phone in case they called with any news.

She had really made a mistake in losing him. This wasn’t just get fired bad, if you mess up to this degree at GSD, it’s over.

She didn’t want to think about it. She kept the search going throughout the city. Any strange posts, any strange calls, she would be the first to respond.

Earlier that day she responded to a few posts about an overturned car on the interchange. It was all that she could do to cover it up from her superiors because the car that had overturned – was Alex Pomodoro’s.

By the time she arrived there was nothing to do, the car was empty. There wasn’t any blood, no signs of a struggle. Just an empty car upside-down on the road.

That’s when she called in a favor from a friend. She asked him to send a team to watch the house in case Alex showed up there. They had been waiting for most of the day. She called every fifteen minutes for an update but there was none. She was beginning to grow uneasy. This could be it for her. She decided to leave early and head over to the scene. She could easily slip under the radar since she was supposed to be working on Alex. If she lost him… again, she didn’t want to think of the consequences.

Three figures sat in a dark car, parked down the street from the Pomodoro house. They were there for the better part of the day.

Some of the neighbors were beginning to become suspicious, the retired Mr. Shumway had kept an eye on them while doing yardwork. Mrs. Bartleby next door was for sure spying on them, Mr. Shumway could tell because she was always nosey like that. It was a wonder why she hadn’t posted anything about it every couple of minutes. Her profile was full of either stupid pictures of cats dressed up in clothing, or the juicy neighborhood gossip. She had created more than a few fights between neighbors.

But today she was silent. And so were the three figures in the car.

Around four-o-clock in the afternoon, another car pulled up alongside them. Words were being exchanged. They glanced every now and then up at the Pomodoro house.

The Pomodoro’s weren’t home. Their house looked that way. Mr. Shumway had seen Mr. Pomodoro leaving for work at his usual time. Mrs. Pomodoro had left earlier than that. Nothing seemed amiss.

At exactly 4:15 am, the second car pulled away and the three occupants exited the first car. They were all normal looking folks, nothing really distinguishing about them. Mr. Shumway moved towards the far edge of his property to get a good look at what they were up to.

They walked across the street and up the driveway of the Pomodoro’s. They didn’t seem to be doing anything malicious at first, but soon it was apparent that they were looking for a way to break in. As head of the neighborhood watch, Mr. Shumway felt it his duty to make himself known to the potential thieves and if necessary call the authorities.

He stepped out of the shrubbery and cleared his throat.

This week has been especially insane trying to get things ready for the following set of chapters.  Sorry there have been no posts of the book in a few days, they should continue Monday.

Until then…

Alex looked to the van – the person in boots had stopped near the car.  They seemed to be waiting for something.

Alex picked up the gun. He checked the chamber. The operation of the small handgun came to him naturally. As if he had known it personally in his former life. He checked the chamber and clip. He had a full stock of rounds. He took it off safety and pointed it toward the person in boots.

The person just stood there. Alex held the gun trained, but after a few minutes his arm got tired. He dropped it and lifted himself up from the seatbelt. Blood was rushing to his head and he was losing consciousness.

He couldn’t keep it up. His arms were starting to shake. With a loud exasperation, he dropped. He took in deep exhausted gasps.

The person in boots turned around. They walked around the car. Alex strained to see the face, but he was at an awkward angle.

In the distance Alex could hear ambulance and police sirens. It brought him no relief for some reason. He started to fear that the person outside his car would just as soon kill him than let him be taken to a hospital. He began to struggle with the seatbelt again.

He picked up the gun. The seatbelt wasn’t coming free. He was starting to turn purple.

“What do you want?!” He yelled out to the person.

The blood was forcing a concussion. His eyes drooped as he lost the strength to fight against the restraints. The outside world was becoming blurry and dark. He fought it, but he couldn’t stay awake.

As he was about to lose consciousness, another black vehicle pulled up on the driver’s side of his car. The door opened and a blurry figure in dark clothing exited. Alex strained to focus in on the figure.

The person in boots approached the figure and they shook hands. They whispered. Alex was straining to listen, see and stay awake but it was a lost battle.

The figure approached his window. It bent down to see inside.

Alex was able to focus in on the figure for just a moment. He saw a smiling face staring back at him. A face that he didn’t recognize. It was a beautiful woman with blonde hair.

“Hello Alex.” She stated, as carefree as a chance meeting at the supermarket.

Although he couldn’t recognize her, she certainly knew him. In fact, Alex had run into her earlier that day.

She was the barista with the nametag of ‘Darcy.’

When the car finally stopped spinning, Alex shook his head. He was still conscious, but extremely dizzy. He felt a sharp stabbing pain in his left knee. He was in shock at what just happened. He sat squished against the roof with the seatbelt digging into his shoulder and neck. All the windows were smashed. It was a miracle that he hadn’t been flattened on the spot.

After a few moments he looked out the passenger window. The black van had parked a few feet away. It didn’t seem to have any damage besides a crumple on the front bumper where it had nudged his car.

The sliding door of the van opened. Someone with two large black boots and military fatigues exited with a jump to the ground. Near the edge of Alex’s car window he was able to see the tip of what looked like a sub-machine gun. He could recognize the fact that it was a very large weapon and he was immediately struck with panic.

He started to struggle with his seatbelt. It wouldn’t free, it had bent inside the release. Alex opened the glove box, the central panel, anything. Papers and knick-knacks flew out from each when he opened them.

In the center dashboard, Alex opened a small compartment. Inside was a flash of metal. Alex pulled it out. It was a gun.

Alex dropped it in surprise. What was he doing with a gun?

As he sped away, he realized that the human functions of working a car were still very much a part of his memory. He knew the mechanics of working the shifter and the wheel. He knew how to operate the GPS unit and the on-board computer. He knew so much about functioning as a human, why couldn’t he remember anything important? What was going on and why was he being followed at the train station?

He had just put it out of his head when he realized that he was again being tracked - this time by a large black van.

It was several cars away, but it was unmistakably following him. When he exited the freeway, the van did also. Every intersection he turned at, so did the van.

He tried maneuvering away from it. He attempted to cross three lanes of traffic, cutting off several other cars. It was no use, the van was too quick.

Then it happened – the van nudged his tail.

The van was doing more than that; it was trying to put his car in a spin. Alex did his best to try and keep it under control, but the van had too much weight on his small car.

The little grey sedan spun backwards. Alex overcorrected – the car endoed and flipped. Supported by the roof, it spun in 360 degrees, over and over.