Friday, July 5, 2013

New World Order Rising, Book 1, The Abduction


The following excerpt is from my new novel, New World Order Rising, Book 1, The Abduction. This is excerpt #5, the last one before publication sometime this month, July, 2013. Here the main characters have reached the New Mexico desert, the location of an Illuminati Satanist camp, where Carter hopes to find his abducted daughter, Chantal, and granddaughter, Dodie.

****

One man, keeping his weapon ready, approached the driver side, “What do you people want here? This is private property.”
Carter wondered about the truth of that but didn’t say anything, just glanced at Harley, who spoke, “We noticed a camouflaged pickup turn onto this road awhile back. We thought if you guys are training here you could be a good ally.”
The man looked surprised, “Ally for what?”
“An assault on the Illuminati.”
The man’s expression stabilized, then he pointed, “Head on down to that main building where the flag is flying.” He stepped onto the running board, “I’ll just tag along and introduce you.”
At the building the man stepped down, “Wait here,” then walked to the building and knocked, shortly went inside. About five minutes later he reappeared and returned, “All four of you. Come in.”

Militia

Carter wasn’t expecting to see two silver bars on the collar of the man behind the desk.
 “That’s right, sir, I’m a captain in the US Army, and I’m absent without leave.” He pointed toward chairs against the wall. After everyone—except their escort, who remained standing—was seated, “Now what’s this about an assault on the Illuminati?”
Carter looked at Harley and nodded. Harley told their whole story, ending with, “The assault will happen tomorrow night.”
“We know of them,” the captain said, “It’s a new location and we haven’t been able to penetrate yet, and what are we to do? Just go in there with guns blazing?”
“Yes!” Carter exclaimed.
“We’d like to, and with the direction the country seems to be heading…well, we’ve…been waiting.”
“So, you are an AWOL officer in charge of local militia men…?”
“That’s right, the New World Order, the Skull and Bones, the Illuminati, whatever the hell you want to call them, they are poised to take over. That last mass shooting provoked a massive new gun law by the liberals. Without presenting it all to you, the most important item was demanding registration of every firearm in the nation, from .22 caliber pistols to antique shotguns to, of course, the AR15. A registration will take a huge amount of time, but even if they aren’t finished registering, the next mass shooting just might provoke the confiscation.” The man placed his hand over his mouth for a few seconds, then continued, “If they aren’t already confiscating as we speak. Disarm America first, including Canada, then the rest of the world will likely fall into line.
“Oh sure, there’ll be individuals—like you people—who will try to fight—a few Latin Americans, probably a few Brits—but you won’t know who the enemy is. Outside of my lieutenant here—“ He nodded toward their escort, “I don’t even know how many of the men here in camp are true militia. Some might even be army intelligence, or NSA. As Fox Mulder of the X-files would say, we can ‘trust no one.’
The officer took a breath, “So that’s what we—including you folks—are up against.”
“But you said they are ‘poised to take over.’” Carter said, “How do you know that?”
The captain turned to Carter, “You remember the black-uniformed police you saw—that your partner just described to me, the ones who took that union bunch—not that I have any love for the unions—but they took them, and, at the moment, on yet a small scale, that’s happening all over the country and Canada, and not just union strikers but individuals too, like yourselves. You’ve been gone for what? Just four days?
“Yes,” Carter said.
“From Fargo, North Dakota, yes?” The man all but smiled, “Fargo should have stayed small and out of sight, but no, she had to grow and grow—had to join the big boys, not that, in the end, it would have made any difference. Furnaces all over the country will soon be pouring out smoke, and, just like the Jews, nobody—or few—will believe what’s happening, until it’s too late, and believe me, this new power that’s upon us will be able to do—what the Nazis tried—a lot faster, and absolutely more efficiently—”
“So,” Harley interrupted, “Will you help us, or not?”
“We will,” the captain said, “My lieutenant will provide you with a radio, which you should give us a check call once you’re back on the highway. We are ‘Crow,’ and you shall be ‘Magpie,’ two birds of a common feather. If you do run into major trouble, just call us and we will send a helicopter.” The captain smiled, “In fact, if we even hear firing in that direction we will probably come.”
“Thank you,” Harley said, “Are we free to leave?”
“Of course.” The captain gestured toward the door, “Remember, though, the Illuminati have a very, very, powerful, ally.”
Only Carter—evidently the only one who didn’t already know—stopped, “Who?”
“Lucifer.” The captain spoke with the straightest of face.

****

Thanks for reading

Author’s notes
(Digital downloads $0.99-$3.99; paperbacks $10.00-$29.95)
 In my fiction I do not try to create super-heroes, but rather bring alive common and regular people who try to find love, survive, and react to circumstances as best they can, and, usually, try to do the right thing. The books are more than one genre, from war to sex and violence to romance to humor to horror to fantasy to science fiction to adventure, I write in third-person with viewpoints by men, women, and children. 

Contact

nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                          email
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S   Author page at Amazon
http://morninginapril.weebly.com                   Website & Blog
http://morninginapril.blogger.com                   Blog
https://www.facebook.com/#!/                         Facebook
http://subron7.hubpages.com/                          HubPages
https://twitter.com/PMGOLD                          Twitter

Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos)
A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.

Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a  day, sometimes more than a day. Look for those announcements on my blog, Twitter, and Facebook
One last thing: When you visit my website, please check out the Freebies page.


Friday, June 28, 2013

New World Order Rising, Book 1, Excerpt 4

From my new novel, New World Order Rising, to be released some time in July, 2013. Carter Banks’ daughter, Chantal, 24, and his granddaughter, Dodie (Doe-dee,) 6, have been abducted by the Illuminati. In this excerpt Chantal has the viewpoint, and is trying to comfort her daughter as best she can. Forced to lie in the backseat for many hours they are finally arriving…somewhere. Chantal has no idea where or what’s happening, as their abductors do not speak except to give orders.

****

Chantal could feel the car turning, slowing down, speeding up, turning again. They must be getting close to somewhere. But where? Her headache was gone.
“You two can sit up back there,” came that voice from the front.
Stiffly, Chantal moved her feet to the floor, at the same time put both her hands on, “Dodie, honey, you can sit up now.”
“Mom…?”
“Yes, honey, sit up, please, get right up here on the seat beside me.” As if I can protect you from all harm.
Dodie moved quickly to beside her mom, who put both her arms around her and kept them there.
The man in the front passenger seat looked back. In daylight the man’s face looked doubly evil, and white, almost bloodless, white. He didn’t smile, “Brush your hair with your hands, and get the sleep seeds out of your eyes, the kid’s eyes too.”
She did as told. Dodie looked up, her soft eyes showing…she didn’t know, “Mom, where are we?”
“I don’t know, honey.”
“Where are we going?”
“That’s enough talking back there.”
“Ssssh.” She put her finger to Dodie’s lips, “Quiet, honey, please. They’ll soon tell us.”
The man in front, the driver, she thought, laughed, but didn’t say anything.
With her daughter as close to her as possible, she looked at the passing scenery. Not much to see. Rundown buildings. Empty streets. No trees, no people. She saw a statue ahead, a warrior, with a sword, maybe—she remembered seeing a picture of a knight once, a Knights Templar, she thought—whoever they were—she wasn’t sure. The statue was rundown too, and had many bird droppings on it. They came to a more open area, at least three blocks with few but really rundown buildings, something like a modern ghost town.
Then appeared a much larger building. The car steered toward the main entrance to what appeared to have once been a fabulous hotel, with even a doorman. No uniform, though. She felt a rush of humor. The man at the door was anything but royalty; he even looked homeless, like he was getting paid to stand by that door and soon would just disappear into the streets again.
They stopped. The man in the passenger seat got out quickly, removed a key from his pants pocket and unlocked the back door, then opened it and gestured, “Come on, lady. We’re here.”
Where?
Hanging onto Dodie’s hand she stepped out first. Dodie followed and clutched her mom’s arm.
The man then gestured to the doorman, who stepped up and grabbed Dodie’s arm and pulled her away. Chantal grabbed Dodie’s other arm and tried to hang on but realized she couldn’t win and let go.
“Mom…?” Dodie’s eyes showed…fear.
She had seen dozens of expressions cross her beautiful daughter’s face but never what resided there now—she couldn’t really call it fear, but an emptiness, as if Dodie already knew she was seeing her mom for the last time—and Chantal knew her own face had to be showing fear like she had never known—I can’t let my daughter see the fear I’m feeling—she tried to erase the fear from her face; she felt her face turned hard—what can I do?—Dodie!—“Just do what he wants, Dodie.” She couldn’t have said that! What on earth had she just told her daughter to do? Whatever the man wants—my dear Lord!
The man with the evil face then grabbed Chantal’s arm and pulled her through the door. The man with Dodie came in too, but went in another direction.
“Mom…?”
Chantal’s stomach felt like it no longer existed. She struggled as much as she dared, and watched her Dodie getting farther and farther away. She tried to see into her daughter’s eyes, tried to tell her that everything would soon be all right, but somehow she knew that everything was not going to be all right, and that ‘emptiness’ look stayed on Dodie’s face. She watched until her child disappeared through another door. The look in Dodie’s eyes stayed with her, and would stay with her, Dodie, my Dodie—dear Lord, where are we? What’s happening? God, please help us!

****

In this second excerpt Chantal and Dodie have been separated for awhile. Mason is Chantal’s husband.

****

When Chantal awoke again the vicious headache was back. They must have drugged her again. She knew she was again riding, again lying in the backseat. At least it was dark, so she opened her eyes. But just the act of opening them intensified the pain. Then she became aware of a voice—
“What do you mean ‘She’s not a virgin?’ Christ, she can’t be more then five or six years old!”
“She fell…on her bike,” Chantal said, and couldn’t believe she was explaining, “It happened just last year—“
“What?” The man in the front passenger seat jerked around, “What did you say?”
She opened her eyes for a second, saw that the man was on a cell phone, “She was riding her new bike and the seat came off—I told Mason it wasn’t right but he didn’t listen! Dodie bled and bled….” She started to drift again, but heard the man repeating what she had told him. Why did I tell him? Where am I? “What’s happening? Where’s my baby?”
“Shut up back there!”
“You bastard!” She screamed. The pain in her head increased still more, like a belt around her and tightening, “Where’s my baby? What have you done with her?” Her head started spinning. She opened her eyes one more time before passing out; she saw the man looking at her, saw the dash lights reflecting again on the face of pure evil.


Thanks for reading

Author’s notes
(Digital downloads $0.99-$3.99; paperbacks $10.00-$29.95)
 In my fiction I do not try to create super-heroes, but rather bring alive common and regular people who try to find love, survive, and react to circumstances as best they can, and, usually, try to do the right thing. The books are more than one genre, from war to sex and violence to romance to humor to horror to fantasy to science fiction to adventure, I write in third-person with viewpoints by men, women, and children. 

Contact

email                                                                                               nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/SubRon15             SmashWords Author Page https://jameswnelsonblog.com/                                                      Website & Blog
(Will need to copy and paste for Website & Blog)
https://gab.com/Headforthehills                                                   Gab Social Site                                    https://Brighteon.social/@subron75                                            Brighteon Social Site

Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos)




Friday, June 21, 2013

New World Order Rising, Book 1, Excerpt 3

Excerpt from Chapter 12 Casket Liners—What are they For?

Carter Banks (main character) and Harley Maxwell (Carter’s best friend from childhood) following by GPS the abductors of Carter’s daughter and granddaughter, have taken a sidetrip into Nebraska to follow up on a lead about a secret Illuminati staging area.

The road soon appeared, but would have been easy to miss. Carter turned onto it.
“Just keep going, Carter. When we get there you’ll know.
They soon entered a large meadow clearing, where appeared stack upon stack of…, “What on earth are those?”
“Casket liners,” Harley said, Thousands of’em. Maybe hundreds of thousands”
“Liners? Hell, they’re bigger than the caskets themselves.”
“That’s right. You, me, and two or three other good-sized people could crawl into just one.”
Carter pulled to within fifty feet of a stack and stopped. Nearby a man got up and stared at them, “What the hell? I didn’t even see him. What is he? A guard, maybe?”
“Not likely.” Harley opened a compartment down below the dash, easily accessible by either the driver or passenger, and pulled out what appeared to be a semi-automatic pistol, “Colt .45, my friend.” He also retrieved a loaded magazine, inserted it into the handle, and pulled back the slide, cocking it, then put it on half-cock safety. He then slipped it behind him, between his back and his trousers.
Just like they do it in the movies.
“Leave it running,” Harley said, “We’ll both get out and talk to him. He might know something.”
They both got out, and left their doors open.
“Howdy!” Harley called out.
The man didn’t answer. The stare on his face appeared to harden, and maybe get a little wild.
“We’ll approach a little closer,” Harley said.
They took a few more slow steps.
“Who the fuck are you?” The man doubled his fists and raised, slightly, his left one.
“We’re nobody.”
“Yeah, ‘nobody’—fuckin’ right! Then what the fuck you want here?”
The man’s eyes had much white showing, and—my god! His hair was short and black and looked like a photo from a deep past, and a short little black moustache mainly just under his nose that reminded Carter of, of—he refused to even think the name!
“They’re gonna try to mark us!” the man shouted.
“Who’s ‘they?’” Harley asked.
They were within about twenty feet.
“That’s close enough,” Harley said in a low voice.
“The ones in charge,” the man said, a little quieter.
“And who’s that?”
“You know!—the shadow fucking government! Or the goddamned Illuminati—whoever the fuck they are!”
“So you don’t really know?”
“I know all goddamned right—I was with’em—I was one of’em, for Chris-sake!”
“Are they close by?”
“Hell, they’re everywhere!”
“But the group you were with,” Harley persisted, “Where are they? How close?”
As they stood there an odor began, “Jesus!” Carter’s hand flew to his nose, an automatic movement.
“You don’t like that smell, do ya, ya crazy fucker—it’s gangrene! I’m probably gonna die soon. The mutherfuckers shot me when I was escaping. Hit my leg. It’s a wonder I got away at all.”
“We should help him,” Carter said.
“Start backtracking to the pickup,” Harley said, “You keep driving.”
“What…?”
“Do it!”
They carefully walked backwards. Carter’s skin began crawling. He didn’t know how close they were and he didn’t want to turn around and look—
“Run!”
Then he did turn around and ran, but just before he stopped seeing the man he saw that the man had started toward them, limping but appearing quite able to move quickly. He reached the driver’s side, jumped in and closed the door, thanking God they had left it running.
Harley had moved a little more slowly while keeping his eyes on the man. Finally at the door he pulled his gun and pointed it at the man, then fired into the ground between the man’s feet.
The man stopped, “Mutherfuckers! The hell with ya—we’re all gonna die anyway! The Mayans was wrong, but the Illuminati ain’t!”
“Let’s go!” Harley said as he climbed in, “Go to his left, about two hundred feet, then make a big U-turn and haul our asses out’a here and back to the interstate, and don’t let no grass grow under us!”
Carter did as instructed, and as he began the U-turn, through peripheral vision, almost like an impossible dream, he saw them: Railroad tracks. He tried to dismiss what he saw, the man’s startling resemblance, the casket liners, as the presence of both things sent his mind reeling to nightmarish movies and old news reels from World War II Nazi concentration camps.
He didn’t think the Nazis had bothered with casket liners, but the horrible analogy was there. What are they for? Why the railroad? God help us!

Thanks for reading

Author’s notes
(Digital downloads $0.99-$3.99; paperbacks $10.00-$29.95)
 In my fiction I do not try to create super-heroes, but rather bring alive common and regular people who try to find love, survive, and react to circumstances as best they can, and, usually, try to do the right thing. The books are more than one genre, from war to sex and violence to romance to humor to horror to fantasy to science fiction to adventure, I write in third-person with viewpoints by men, women, and children. 

Contact

nelsonjamesw@hotmail.com                          email
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B004GW465S   Author page at Amazon
http://morninginapril.weebly.com                   Website & Blog
https://www.facebook.com/#!/                         Facebook
http://subron7.hubpages.com/                          HubPages
https://twitter.com/PMGOLD                          Twitter

Feel free to contact me. (Response is not guaranteed) (The world is full of psychos and wackos.)
A reminder for when you go to Amazon to read digital books, mine and many other authors: Amazon has a free APP download that allows you to read your book on any electronic device, including PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, Android, and Blackberry.

Occasionally I list one of my books as free for a  day, sometimes more than a day. Look for those announcements on my blog, HubPages, Twitter, and Facebook.

One last thing: When you visit my website, please check out the Freebies page.