Friday, 10 April 2009

• You Forget Who You Are

  Chapter One can be found HERE
  
  

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  "Get in," commanded one of the men in black. Stocky, but with a tapered waist and a strong jaw line, the man had a glock .45 in a holster that rested at his waist. Dark gray eyes studied Gregory, sizing him up. Gregory felt the part of the puny math geek in comparison, sliding into the dark car without question. The driver glanced up into the rear view mirror. Eyes hidden by a pair of square framed sunglasses.
  
  "Mr. Merkin. Thank you for coming without a fight. We do like these extractions to be clean," the feminine voice was cool, smooth, and her vowels were rounded like an Italian. Gregory stored this useless piece of observation away. "Uh, they have guns," he said in shaky reply. The men who flanked him now sat next to him. They each had their fire arm strapped to their waists on the sides closest to the door. They didn't acknowledge the statement of fact as Gregory glanced at them uneasily.
  
  "Why am I here?" he ventured to ask. Stony silence met his query. The car started to drive away, turning left out of the alley. "Where are we going? What did I do wrong? Why is this happening!" Gregory's questions were ignored until he sat forward in his seat, one hand on the back of the front passenger's side seat. He could see the driver's profile. Aquilian and strong jaw line, she was classically beautiful. The gentle curve of her bust was beneath the thick black cotton combat jacket. Black pants and a firearm strapped to her right thigh made her impressively seductive for the personal and firearm power she possessed. "Sit back, Mr. Merkin. Now." The driver said, her voice brooking no argument. The flash of white teeth seemed more preditory than pleasing. He didn't move, testing his luck. A moment later, the man to his right grabbed Gregory's shoulder and yanked him back.
  
  "I just want some answers," he muttered, crossing his arms childishly. The driver looked up sharply, startled almost. "Yes, yes. So do we, Mr. Merkin. That's why you are here. They say all the genius' always answer their own questions eventually," the smirk was heard rather than seen. Gregory tucked his chin to his chest, feeling the bubble of personal space he had shrink dramatically as the car took a sharp turn, uncerimoniously pushing him into the man to his left.
  
  "Empty your pockets, Mr. Merkin," the driver commanded. She accelerated the vehicle, shifting and accelerating again.
  
  "Why? I don't have anything dangerous. A protractor, maybe," Gregory's humor was lost on this crowd. The car pulled into the parking lot of a large gray-metal building.
  
  "Because, Mr. Merkin, you need to forget who you are."
  

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