New World Order: 666 - The Mark of the Beast (Vol. 1)

by W. R. Benton

  “Sir, what do you want to do?”

  “Warn them to disburse or we'll use force.” the President said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  A speaker mounted on the car began to blast out a warning, but it made no difference to the mob.

  “Use the gas.” came the order a few minutes later.

  Seconds later, people quit beating on the car and began to move away. The limo sped away, striking a dozen protesters as they broke through the mob, sending their mangled bodies back into the crowd.

  Just as they neared the Hotel, there was a loud explosion and the car rocked as the four motorcycle cops were removed from their bikes. Three of the four were dead, with the survivor sure to lose a leg and maybe an arm. One of the black SUVs stopped, loaded the man in the vehicle and moved to the closest hospital.

  At the hotel, police snipers were on the roof, guards patrolled the building with dogs, an armored personnel carrier was near the front door and a tank sat in the parking lot. The walk in was uneventful and so was the trip to their room. They were on the upper floor, with a guard posted at the door, both inside and out. Two other guards were in the suite. The two interior guards had been working with the White House for years, and learned early in their careers to forget what they heard or saw.

  The President turned on the TV, poured a whiskey for the First Lady and a double for him. He turned to a news channel and the world looked to be falling apart at the seams. As he watched the news, he began to wonder if taking the money from the NWO was a smart thing to do. He'd taken it because all he had to do was take guns from Americans and demand the chip to be used. So far, only a handful of guns had been collected, and they were from willing donors.

  Of all aspects of the Constitution, the first and second amendments mean the most to Americans, he thought. I don't know why I got involved with the NWO, but the money was hard to pass up. Of all the times in Americas history, this has to be the roughest, and if what I think will happen happens, I'll soon be facing a civil war, too.

  The First Lady asked, “Honey, can't you do something to stop the rioting?”

  “I'm not sure what. If you remember, the agent in the limo said it was the NWO that was behind the protests.”

  “It just seems to me our intelligence folks could come up with some way to deal with the NWO and prevent riots.”

  What would you say if you knew I was partially to blame? he thought, but said, “The problem is no one knows who the leader of the organization is, and they have unlimited funds.”

  “I'd start looking at those in the world who are wealthy and, one by one, weed them out.”

  “Sweetheart, it's not that simple. We suspect it's a group of wealthy folks operating under a well established business. Of course, there must be a leader.”

  “Look at the women first. This is so well organized, I think a woman is behind it.”

  “My staff criminal psychologists disagree with you, but they feel the layout and organization of the NWO was a woman's planning. However, the big Boss is so ruthless, they've ruled out a female.”

  “That's plain stupidity in my opinion, because women are much more ruthless than men, but men will never admit that fact. Did you know the deadliest sniper in WWII was a Russian woman? The black widow spider is deadly to her mate and the female preying mantis eats the head off her partner after they mate. If you want to be killed, just step between a momma bear and her cubs. There are many more examples, but weak? No way all females are weak. I think if you find a successful business woman, you'll find a woman very capable of running the NWO with cold and cunning orders issued. Simply look for a woman who will not hesitate to kill to gain what she wants.”

  He walked to the bar, filled his glass, and saw she was still sipping her drink. It was raining lightly and he watched the drops run down the pane of glass. Dropping his napkin, he bent over to pick it up, when the window exploded sending sharp shards of glass flying in all directions. The bullet continued on, struck the floor and went to the room below, which for security reasons was empty. An agent was on the President instantly, protecting him by covering his body with his own.

  The other agent keyed his radio and said, “Code yellow, code yellow. Shots fired at big dog, maybe two floors up, south side of the hotel. Appears to be another hotel.”

  “Copy, we're moving now.”

  The President's cell phone rang.

  The agent moved from him and, sitting up, the President asked, “Hello?”

  “You have not kept your end of our bargain, sir. I can see you survived the assassination attempt, but there will be more. The money once in your Swiss account is now gone.” a female voice, that at another time he would have found sensual, said.

  “What do you want!” he screamed.

  “What do I want? Just your life, sir. Your death will please me immensely. You were holding up our progress, so you will be eliminated now, because you know too much. Maybe your replacement will be easier to work with. Oh, tell the First Lady, the pink bra and matching thong she is wearing is very nice. Especially the lace. Goodbye, Mister President.” The call went dead.

  Looking at the agent, he said, “Take this phone and find out where that last call came from. See who's paying the phone bill, too.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Standing, he gulped down what was left of his drink and moved to the bar to get another. Filling his glass, he asked, “What color is your bra and thong?”

  “What? Someone tries to kill you and you want to know the color of my underwear? I'm wearing a pink bra and matching thong, why?”

  “That was a female voice from the NWO, and they've marked me for killing. To show me what they knew about us, she told me you were wearing exactly what you just said.”

  “When did you put those on, ma'am?” the other agent asked, looking worried.

  “Right after I showered.”

  “Control, this is agent one.”

  “Go, one.”

  “Our security has been compromised. The President just received a threatening call, and the voice knew the color of underwear the First Lady is wearing. This room was surely checked for bugs and cameras, right?”

  “Is her underwear covered by a robe or something? If not, when she passed a window, it may have been seen. Yes, the room was swept and was clean.”

  Turning to the First Lady, the agent asked, “At any time that you can remember, ma'am, did you walk by a window without a robe?”

  “Uh, once I had my underwear on, I did move to the bedroom to get my robe from the bed, why?”

  “I'll explain in a minute, ma'am. She only walked around with no robe in the bedroom.” the agent replied, and he moved to the bedroom. He then added, “The drapes are open and the blinds have been raised. I think the shooter got a look at her before the shot.”

  “I agree, close every blind and drape. Control out.”

  Lowering his radio, the agent said, “Ma'am, I —”

  “It's okay, I heard the conversation.” She moved from the sofa, walked to the bar and topped off the whiskey in her glass, right to the brim.

  The President, knowing he'd never be able to sleep in this room now said, “Alert Air Force One that I want a fresh crew on the aircraft, and engines running one hour from now. Tell them our destination is the Cheyenne Mountain missile complex. I want the facility notified that I want no special treatment, just a room for the two of us to rest our heads, and our visit may be an extended one.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A series of shots were heard off in the distance and then an explosion.

  “Lord,” the First Lady said, “let me survive the ride to the airport.”

  The President shook his head and thought, What a mess. I don't like the NWO on my ass; they hire only the best, and they're ruthless sonsofbitches.

  CHAPTER 15

  James looked at Nancy and asked, “How does he look?”

  “I don't think he'll survive, if that's what you're really asking me. The bullet
struck his forehead and destroyed most of the right side of his brain when it passed through his head. I think within 24 hours he'll be dead.”

  Ben asked, “Did anyone follow you?”

  “Not that I know of, but we were kind of busy. He jerked and twisted violently after being struck, for about ten minutes or so, which is rough in a Jeep. I almost never got a bandage on his injury.” James said.

  “I suggest we avoid the town completely now.” Ben said as he met the eyes of James.

  “That means we'll have to steal what we need, then.” Carol said.

  “So be it.” James said, “While I hate a thief, I think I'll have to change my attitude about life a little to survive.”

  “We'll have to do what it takes for us to live, baby.” Donna said, and then shrugged.

  “Our biggest problem will be protein, which is things like meat, peanut butter, and beans.” Nancy said.

  “We have a lot of each, but do we have enough to last all winter?” James asked.

  “I don't think so. If we could find a small town that doesn't have the chip technology yet, we could buy all we need easily enough.”

  James said, “There's a small town, and I know a shortcut that will allow us to use the back roads. It's maybe 8 to 10 miles from here. The last time I was there, they had one cop and a couple of stores, so it's not much.”

  “This town have a name?”

  “Newburg, and it's a small place.”

  “Who'll go with you?” Bob asked.

  “You, if you want, but it could turn to shooting, if we're unlucky. I have no idea what to think of the place now. I don't know if the stores are even still there.”

  “We won't know if we don't go and see, right? Hell, let's go right now.”

  “There used to be a butcher shop there, but I think the price of beef may be out of our range. I'm more inclined to get beans and other protein sources.”

  They moved toward the Jeep, which Ben and Frank had cleaned when the group had returned from Rolla. The chunks of brain and bone were now gone, but the seats were still damp from the water used to wash away the blood. Both men covered their seat with a poncho, and off they went.

  The roads James used were mostly gravel and lightly traveled. They drove by the Little Piney river, over the low water bridge and continued moving north by east. The river was low, but gave the whole place a feeling of harmony. Both knew the feeling was deceptive. A few miles later, they turned right on a macadam road, and they could see the small town in the hills on the other side of the river. They drove over a larger steel bridge, crossed some train tracks and were in town. They turned left in town, went down a block, and saw a grocery store. They pulled into a parking lot, with only one other car there.

  They entered to see an older man at the counter and he said, “Afternoon. What can I do the two of you out of?”

  James immediately liked the old man and said, “We've got a problem. We're both Christians and refuse to have a chip implanted. Do you still take cash?”

  “I ain't getting the damned chip neither. I take cash, so just select what ya want, and all is okay with me. The Feds ain't been here hard yet, but when they do, I'll be sent to one of the concentration camps, I reckon. I will not get the mark of the beast, because my God will protect me.”

  Knowing peanut butter could be stored without refrigeration, James bought four cases of the stuff and three hundred pounds of dry beans. He then bought fifty pounds of lean beef and ten pork roasts. He'd take it back to camp and make jerky out of it. The pork could be used, but the fat would have to be trimmed off first.

  He bought 100 pounds of potatoes, the same in onions, five pounds of salt, and 5 gallon containers of unscented bleach, to purify water. He bought all the ammo he had for their weapons, and then got all the bags of hard candy the man carried, because it was hard to beat for energy or heat when cold and tired.

  The old timer was smiling as he rang up the total on an adding machine.

  A minute later he said, “Your total is $1,236.23. Now, you boys can come back here when ya want, but iffen things change, I'll have a sign in the winder that says chips are required or something like that. If I have guests, I'll have my broom in the display winder so you'll know not to come in. Now, I live right above this place, so if you'd rather shop at night using a flashlight, you can do that too. I'm alone since Myrtle died, so wakin' me ain't no big deal. Iffen I was yer ages, I'd gather me up a gang of Christian soldiers and go out and kick some serious ass.”

  James laughed and then replied, “It's a thought, for sure. Thanks, and do you have a name?”

  “Nope, and ya two don't neither. When bein' tortured, we can't say what we don't know, now can we? I can get by now, selling this stuff, because I don't have one of them chip readers, but it's coming and when it does, well, I won't be here. Let me get a dolly and I'll help take this stuff to your car.”

  “Thanks, and you'll get all our business, until things turn rough.”

  “If things get spooky, let us know and you can come to live with us.” Bob offered.

  “How can I do that?”

  Pulling some paper from his pocket, James wrote down his phone number, with no name. Handing it to the old man, he said, “Just call and we'll come for you.”

  “By cracky, I’ll do that iffen things get rough. I'm too old to help y'all much, but my brain still works fine.”

  Bob asked, “You ever in the military?”

  “I was a career man, twenty years in the army. I retired an E-7, because I wouldn't attend college or kiss some officer's ass. I have to warn ya though, I'm blunt and speak my mind.”

  “That's the real reason you didn't get promoted higher.” Bob said, and then chuckled.

  “Ya reckon?” the old man said, and then laughed.

  James said, “If you have visitors, play along with them and then call me the first chance you have. I think they'll warn you first, give you a chip scanning machine and leave. What percentage of this town has the chip?”

  “Maybe, oh, five percent. We're in the sticks, most won't drive to another larger town to get the chip, it's not needed here right now and most of us don't want the damned thing.”

  “Once you get it, it takes over your thinking, sends you thoughts, and knows everything about you. Like a GPS, it gives your location to the authorities at all times, as well as sends your vital signs to a computer used to track you. We know, because we have a man with us that had a chip, until we removed it.”

  “It don't pay no never mind, because I ain't gettin' the damned thing. The Bible warns us of what is to happen during the end of times, and it's surely happenin' as we breathe. I had some ole boy in here last week with what looked like a bar code buried under his skin on his forehead. When I asked him about it, he said, 'worker bees got the bar code, and the elite got the chip.' This crap all started a few years back when the White House started passing all them laws with a stroke of the President's magical pen. All that transgender stuff and gay stuff ain't none of my business, because I'm as straight as they come, but the laws weren't needed. It got so bad my wife and I stopped using public bathrooms.”

  That's likely part of the NWO, Bob thought, but didn't say anything.

  “I think the changes were planned years ago and just now placed into law.” James said, and then extended his hand to shake with the store owner.

  As they shook, James said again, “Don't hesitate calling me if the brown stuff hits the fence. We'll either meet you some place or come and get you.”

  “Well, by God, if I leave, my store comes with me. So, we'll damned sure not starve to death. I'll call if I have the need.”

  “Good; come on, Bob, we need to get back.”

  Two weeks later, James was sitting by the fire, just before dusk, when his phone rang and he didn't recognize the number, but it was a local call.

  “H . . . help me. T . . . they . . . beat . . . me.”

  It sounded like the old man at the store in Newburg, “Are you the
grocer?”

  “Yes . . . yes. Come . . . for me . . . please.”

  “We'll be there in a few minutes.”

  “I'm behind the . . . counter . . . on the . . . floor.”

  “Hang on, we'll be there as fast as we can.”

  “Good. B . . . bye.” The line went dead.

  “Bob, I need you and Nancy to come with me, and now. The old man that owns the grocery store in Newburg was visited by the Feds, and they beat 'em up. Nancy, be sure you bring your medical kit.”

  “How bad is he?” Bob asked.

  “No idea, but he sounded bad and was in a lot of pain.”

  “Maybe the men who beat him are part of a team and still in the town.” Ben said.

  “Now, that is an interesting thought. They only have one hotel and it's just outside of town, near the freeway. We might just pay those folks a visit.”

  “What do you think?” Frank asked.

  “Load everyone in the cars and one of you ride the motorcycle. We'll pay them a visit, if we can find them. Jerry, you stay here and mind the store, while we see if we can administer some justice, good ole boy style.”

  The night was clear, and once at the store they just walked in because the door was unlocked. The old man was found behind the counter, and he'd been busted up pretty good, with cracked ribs, a possible concussion, and cuts to his face and hands. James knew the old man's nose was broken, and both eyes were black and blue. Nancy gave him a shot of morphine and then looked him over closely.

  “He'll survive, but it'll take a spell for his ribs to heal.” Nancy said.

  James' phone rang, so he opened it and said, “Hello?”

  “It's me, Jerry; Blake just died. He started shaking and jerking, and by the time I reached him, he was gone.”

  “Cover him with a blanket and we'll bury him in the morning.” Then his phone screen turned black.

  Nancy met his eyes and asked, “Is Blake dead?”

  “Yep,” James said as he moved to the old grocer. He asked, “Any idea where the men are that beat you up?”