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

by W. R. Benton

  His pain gone now, but fighting sleep, the old man said, “Mable . . . Kennedy said . . . they were at the Ozarks . . . Hotel near the highway. Five of . . . them in the . . . bunch.”

  “Nancy, you take 'em back to camp while we visit the men who did this.”

  The old man, his pain lessened by the morphine said, “I have a big truck out back; when ya leave town, bring the whole damned store with ya. Keys are in the truck. I need to sleep some, so I cain't help ya —”

  “Dick, you and the women stay here and load the truck. I suggest you do the job fast too, because this town will be hot when we're done with our job.”

  The old man, who Nancy learned was named Homer Poor from the business license in the store window, was loaded in the Jeep and she returned him to camp.

  As the store was being loaded in the truck, James and the rest moved for the hotel. Now, for the first time, they were about to turn bloody, but all realized Americans had to move, and now. For too many years they'd said nothing nor took any action, because they'd left it up to the political clowns to keep things under control. They'd not done their job, and now this small group was about to start the bloodiest conflict in this nation's history. It was time to clean America up, starting at the floor level and then slowly moving up.

  When they pulled into the parking lot, they saw just a single floor building and all the rooms opened into the parking lot. Two men went around the back, just in case someone tried to get out by using a window.

  James and Bob entered the lobby and made their way to the desk.

  “May I help you gentlemen?” a young man in his mid-twenties asked. He was an average looking man, with auburn hair, round hippy glasses, and had Liberal written all over him.

  “What room are the Federal Agents in?” Bob asked.

  “I'm not allowed to tell you that, sir, it's a violation of my customer’s privacy. Besides, I don't think you need to know.”

  Holding his pistol out, with the barrel less than an inch from the man's face, James said, “You either tell me or I'll start kicking doors in, and I'll kill every sonofabitch I see. But, you'll not see that, because you're the very first bastard I'll kill. Don't think this is a bluff, son, or your brains will soon be on the wall behind you.”

  “Uh, don't shoot me, mister. I have a wife and two kids at home.”

  “Room numbers?” Bob asked.

  “There are five of them. Two in one room and three in the other. Rooms 105 and 106.”

  “See that wasn't so hard, huh? Let me see your cell phone.” James said.

  When the clerk handed it to him, it was dropped to the floor and then stomped hard by James. His boots shattered the cell into little chunks of plastic. Bob then moved behind the desk and cut the phone cords to the main hotel phone system to pieces.

  “Let's move now!” James said.

  Bob said, “No, just a second. Now, program me two keys to get access into the rooms.”

  Lowering his head, the clerk made the card keys and then handed them to Bob. As the two men stood talking, Ben said, “I'll unlock the doors, and when all of us are ready, I'll swing the doors open.”

  “Sit in your chair, and now.” Bob said to the clerk.

  “Why?”

  “I'm going to tie you up and blindfold you, that is, if you want to live. Or, I can just shoot you, hell, it doesn't matter to me.”

  “I'm sitting.”

  Bob tied the young man to his chair and then blindfolded him with his own necktie.

  As they left the office, James said, “We need to hit both rooms at the same time. So, I'll do one room while you do the other.”

  “How are we going to do this? I was just going to toss a grenade in and wipe 'em out.” Bob said.

  “We can do that, and it may save us casualties, too.”

  Once at the vehicles the group was told of the grenades and how they were to enter the rooms as soon as both exploded. There were to be no survivors.

  They then moved to the room doors.

  Bob was worried. As a combat veteran with a Combat Infantry Badge with a star, he knew things never went as planned in combat. Something would go wrong, but what? This looked simple, open the doors, toss grenades and then mop up after the explosions.

  James was at his door, so when their eyes met, Bob nodded. The magnetic strip was placed in both doors, the green light came on, and the doors were swung open. Two grenades were tossed in and from one room they heard a yell of surprise. A few short seconds later there came two explosions, and everyone entered the rooms.

  The walls were dripping blood, and all five men were dead.

  “Take their weapons, clothes, ammo, money, watches and anything we may need later. If you find any chips or registers for the chip scanner, destroy the scanners but bring the chips.” James said, and then grinned. He had an idea.

  Twenty minutes later as they were leaving, two cop cars pulled in, blocked the exit, and the officers left the car and knelt down behind the squad car doors, and both had weapons drawn.

  Ben raised the sniper rifle, sighted in the man on the left, and then squeezed the trigger. The shot was loud and the officer fell hard, where he jerked and shook, because he'd taken the round in the center of his face. The second policeman sent four or five shots toward Ben and then ducked down behind his door.

  Ben, sighted in the man's knee in the crosshairs of his scope, which was below the door and squeezed his trigger. The officer screamed and fell back. Bob ran forward and fired two rounds into the downed officer's head.

  Running back to the vehicles, Bob screamed, “Let's go!”

  As they were leaving town the chips were tossed into the river because if nothing else, it'd cause confusion for the people manning the NWO computer consoles.

  As they moved, Bob said, “It feels so wrong to kill an officer of the law.”

  “Yes it does,” James said, “but they were chipped or they'd not be working. I'm sorry, but from now on, we're at war. If they are part of the establishment, they're our enemies. We need to start thinking like a military unit and not a bunch of civilians.”

  Ben said, “I'm sure if your roles were reversed, he'd be glad he took you out. I think he'd be bragging how he took out a redneck.”

  “I hear you, but I was raised to respect the law, and now I'm killing the enforcers.”

  Ben replied, “The laws they're enforcing are not legal and not in our Constitution, which is a piece of paper we never should have gotten away from as a nation. The first and second amendments are now useless to every American. The President is not to make laws, just enforce the laws passed. This crap where he signs just anything into law is not legal. The sonofabitch has used his last executive pen to sign laws into effect. I'm sure we're not the only group fighting them now.”

  “Do you think others are resisting as well?”

  “Turn on the TV when we get back and see. By them coming into small hick towns like this, they're really stirring up a hornet’s nest. These folks are the very backbone of America, always have been, and they'll not put up with this bullshit long.”

  Less than an hour later they pulled into camp, parked under a large oak and covered the vehicle with a tarp to keep it out of sight from above. They made their way to the fire. As they all took seats, the weapons taken from the Federal Agents were looked over and the women each got a pistol, along with the magazines to go with it. One of the pistols and a shotgun taken from the hotel room was kept for the old store owner. There was a box of ammo for each weapon.

  Money taken was handed over to James, and the rings, expensive watches and jewelry went into a pile to use for trading later. The men were suddenly tired and hungry.

  The grocer was lying beside the fire and meeting James' eyes he asked, “Are those bastards dead?”

  “Yep, everyone of them, along with two state policemen.”

  “Don't feel bad about killin' those cops. They're all chipped and can't control themselves. They're all like them people in one of them
zombie movies.”

  “What's your name?” Bob asked with a grin.

  “Don't laugh, but it's Homer Poor.”

  “Why would we laugh?” James asked.

  “I caught hell in my school years because of my name, and the fact we were poor, to boot. Now, just call me Gator. It's been my nickname since I was about 7 years old, 'cause I learned to eat anything. Ya call out fer Homer and I'll not answer. Hell, ain't been nobody call me that since my momma died.”

  “Hush!” Ben said, “I hear a helicopter.”

  CHAPTER 16

  In Air Force One the Captain said, “This is your Captain speaking. Lieutenant Colonel James Murdock and I are in contact with the Cheyenne Mountain missile complex. They inform me they have no Presidential suite, but they do have a VIP room for you, Mr. President, and your lovely wife. It's small, but they claim you've used it before as a senator. I was informed they will do all they can to make your stay a pleasant one for both of you. Crew, to your landing positions. We have just been approved for landing and will be on the ground shortly.”

  The aircraft banked slightly and the whirring sound of the wheels lowering filled the cabin. Minutes later the wheels gave a loud screech as the tires met the runway, leaving a black strip on top of others that had landed before them. The flaps came up, the engines reversed, and the pilot applied the brakes.

  As the aircraft moved toward a parking spot the Captain said, “Mr. President and First Lady, it's currently 0400 hours at the Cheyenne Mountain missile complex, with nice weather. The temperature outside is 50 degrees and there is a slight wind from the west at less than five miles an hour. Skies are clear, and I want to remind everyone to remain seated and buckled up until I bring the aircraft to a complete stop. We will be parking shortly. As a reminder to all new passengers, the first people off the aircraft will be the President and First Lady.”

  Inside the complex, the commander, Colonel, General select, Brian Null, a twenty year United States Air Force veteran and senior command pilot, USAF Academy grad, second in his class, and a fast burner up the rank ladder was on a classified phone line.

  “Yes, sir. I fully understand, but his death must appear natural. I can't just shoot the man. I will think of a way to kill him, but to kill a President is a serious matter, and a full investigation will be conducted. I promise you, sir, he'll never leave this complex alive. Yes, yes, goodbye.”

  Colonel Null shook his head and wondered how he'd get out of the mess he was in now, or even if he could where would he go? The NWO had a long reach and unlimited funds.

  “Sir,” a Staff Sergeant said as he knocked on the Colonel's door frame, “the President and his group are in the conference room as you requested.”

  “Oh, yes, thank you, Jim, and say hello to that beautiful woman you're married to when you see her again.”

  “I will, sir.” The young man smiled.

  The Colonel stood and made his way to the briefing room.

  The briefing was a standard one that explained the complex, the jobs of some of those assigned to the mountain, and the past, present and future of the base. He also read their mission statement and their goals as a unit. Once he'd covered that, the Colonel called his intelligence officer, a Major, forward to give the current intelligence status. ISIS is currently the top dog in the World.

  “Sir, the situation in the middle east is unchanged, with cars and people continuing to be used to kill innocents and noncombatants. So far this week, there have been an even half dozen suicide bombers and four cars or trucks exploded. The numbers dead are roughly 68 with over 200 injured. Then, closer to home, we now have claims from ISIS that they were responsible for the dirty bomb that took out the White House. They claim it was in the back of a rental truck and being driven by a suicide bomber at the time of detonation. Of course, the area is so hot with radiation we've not been able to exam the center where the device was exploded. The best we've been able to do is to fly over the area with drones and record the damage done. Of course, there are no witnesses and we have thousands being treated for radiation sickness.”

  “Your report is excellent, sir, except I'm not interested in world news, Major. I need you to tell me what is happening here, here in my country.”

  “Uh, initial reports indicate a massive uprising in mainly conservative states, with armed resistance against the UN removing any private weapons from homes. A spokesman for the resistance said they are simply 'doing what the second amendment was written for, protecting our rights.'”

  “Not good, and I expected resistance, but not like this. This is pure chaos.”

  “They claim they'll stop fighting when the order to stop removing arms is given, the UN troops leave American soil, and they are assured no legal action will be taken against anyone who resisted the illegal confiscation of personal weapons.

  We have some evidence that the New World Order is involved fanning the flames of war on both sides. The resistance is receiving sophisticated weapons from Europe, but so far our agents have not been able to learn anything, except that some weapons running is taking place. We do know a few Senators and Congressmen and women, we have their names, have taken money from the NWO. Our military, as a whole, have refused to take weapons from private citizens and are trying to avoid taking a side.”

  “Why is my military not doing the job they should?” the President asked.

  “Uh, Major, don't answer that question, I will.” the Colonel said.

  “Well?”

  “Sir, with all due respect, the order to take weapons from private citizens violates the second Amendment to the Constitution of the United States, as you know. All military members, officers and enlisted take an oath, just as you did, to defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic. Our military does not see your order as a lawful one under the UCMJ, our manual for Courts Martial, or our legal code books, and they are correct. We are bound by law, as well as our oath, to protect the U. S. Constitution and not laws you've signed into action with your executive pen.”

  “By God, Colonel, it's law now!” the President screamed, his anger fueled by the double whiskeys he'd had on Air Force One.

  “Again, sir, no disrespect intended, but you, as the President of the United States, are the Executive Officer of our Government. You cannot technically draft a law from your personal desires or wishes. Sir, you have no law making authority and are limited to signing a bill into law or vetoing it when it comes to your desk from Congress.”

  “You are wrong, Colonel! I passed a law to force all Americans to surrender their guns and it will be obeyed. I am the absolute law in this country now!”

  “I hope you are correct, sir, but your military will not become involved, and neither will your state law enforcement officials.”

  Remember the chip implants, the President thought and then smiled as he said, “I'll not argue with you; excuse my outburst, but I've been through much in the last few days. I need a few days of rest and some good food.”

  “I can understand, sir.” Colonel Null said, and then looking at the Major, winked, and added, “Continue with your intelligence briefing.”

  “At last count, 25% of active duty personnel and 70% of all guard and reserve units have had the implant. Out of thousands of implants, there were only two cases where the person's body would not accept the foreign object. In both cases, the hand became infected, so the chip was removed. We were, however, able to tattoo a barcode on their foreheads.

  The last of my briefing is the slide you see, where the armed resistance to the taking of private weapons is taking place the most often.”

  “Looks mostly to be the Southern states, Rockies, and Midwest.”

  “It is, sir, and Texas, as well as Florida, are hot spots right now. The Texans refuse to give up their guns and Florida, which has a very high percentage of veteran retirees, has told you to, quote, 'Go to hell,' unquote. In both locations, fierce combat between the UN and private citizens has taken place.”

/>   Standing and needing a drink, the President said, “The First Lady and I are tired, and need breakfast and some sleep.”

  Good, if I can slip some anthrax into a letter or document, I can cause an illness or maybe death. Regardless, he'll need a hospital. Odds are, even if not killed, he'll be removed from office. Hell, I might get lucky and kill 'em both, Colonel Null thought, and unknowingly smiled. The Colonel stood and said, “Chief Hill, see to the needs of our Commander-in-Chief. Mr. President and First Lady, if you'll follow Chief Hill, he will take care of you.”

  As the President and Colonel moved toward the door, Chief Hill yelled from the very pit of his stomach, “Tennn-hoooit!”

  Everyone stood.

  Near the door, the Colonel said, “At ease.” The Chief then moved forward to lead the President to his quarters.

  Later the same day, a young man with two stripes took the President some messages and letters from various sources. A special carrier plane had brought all the correspondence to the complex for the Commander-in-Chief. It was the usual stuff he read everyday, and he thought nothing of it. It was just after supper when he poured four fingers of whiskey in his glass and began opening the mail.

  He took a large gulp of whiskey, moved to the bed and laid down. He placed his drink on the night table. His back was propped up so he was actually almost sitting and he was comfortable as he slipped his reading glasses on. The First Lady was reading a novel as he went over his papers.

  All went smoothly until he opened a card from his mom in Alabama. A fine white dust moved into the air as the letter opener moved across the top of the envelope. The particles were so small, if not for the light and surrounding darkness, he'd not have seen it at all. He removed his reading glasses and saw a fine mist settling on his wife and wondered what it was. When he glanced at the letter, it was a simple card from his mother, and even the date stamp showed Mobile, Alabama.

  Glancing at the folds in the card, he saw tiny particles of the dust.

  This is not normal; I need to contact security. This stuff almost looks like baby powder, he thought as he picked up the phone. How can this be? Because I would swear this is mom's handwriting.