When Obama got re-elected in 2012 he became the inspiration for beginning “New World Order Rising,” which has become a 6-book series.
(Book 6 ended the series and offered hope not just for America but for the world.)
After two months of original research I began writing. Conspiracy theories provided much material for book 1 and continues into Book 2. One major theory was how the super soldiers were trained from childhood–yes, childhood, but I won’t say anything about that here. You got descriptive details in Book 1.
Remember, this is fiction, based on theories but many theories have a habit of becoming fact, whether we like it or not.
As said, this is my second video. I will continue trying to become a better producer.
Excerpt from Chapter 5 “State Line” (Carter has POV)
The twenty minutes and twenty miles went past. As they neared the state line with Nebraska they could see at least a dozen black uniforms waiting, and two Swat vehicles, one on each side facing the highway. Not one of the black uniforms was lounging as at least some regular men might have been. No, these black uniforms stood tall, the super soldiers of the Illuminati.
Carter glanced at Jocelyn on Genevieve’s lap, “You’ll have to get on the floor again, honey, just as if we’re in town.”
She looked at him somewhat impassively, for certain did not smile, and got on the floor.
Had he thought he should have anticipated something like a border check happening and looked for a different road—even a field road—but he didn’t think, and why would he have? Americans had always been free to cross as many state lines as they wanted at any time. Life-changing events seemed to be happening at breakneck speed.
“Okay, girls, just like before. If they approach and knock on your window just lower it and answer any question as best you can.”
He heard sounds from some of the girls but nobody actually answered him. They evidently were as tired of this cat and mouse bullshit game as he was, “We don’t have any choice, girls.”
“Why don’t you just floor it?” Genevieve asked, “And if any get in the way just run over the bastards?”
Very strong words from a very young girl. He didn’t say anything back, couldn’t really think of something to say because she was correct, but he should probably say something, “They have many guns, Genevieve, enough to cut this pickup right in half.”
“I know, Carter, It’s just that I’m so sick of this shit!”
Four of the uniforms moved onto the highway, so they would have to stop.
“What’s that about a quarter mile farther away?” Beth asked, “Where those black uniforms are isn’t really the state line. There’s no sign welcoming us to Nebraska. But it looks like there’s a sign farther up.”
He hadn’t thought of that, and as he looked, men even farther away began appearing from the sidelines, “Nebraska Militia?” he asked, to no one in particular.
“Well,” Beth said, “They sure aren’t wearing black uniforms, but I don’t think they’re American soldiers either.”
Three of the black uniforms positioned themselves on the highway.
“Right,” Carter said as they reached the line of black uniforms, stopped, and put the pickup in park, “And we don’t even know if regular Americans would be friendly to us.”
The fourth black uniform approached the driver side and made motions to lower the window, which Carter did, “Hi there, how can I help you?”
“Why are you leaving Kansas?” the black uniform asked.
“We don’t live here. We’ve been on vacation and are on our way home.”
“Where did you spend your vacation?” The black uniform leaned and looked inside, and saw Jocelyn on the floor. Jocelyn covered her face and tried to get even smaller.
“Why is the little girl on the floor?”
There was no answer for that, and Carter wondered if this guy even knew about the seat belt laws. He maybe was just concerned about the little girl—if he even understood the concept of concern! But he had to say something, “It’s cooler down below. She just wanted to get out of the sun for a while.”
Even an idiot wouldn’t buy that.
“We just got a message of a little girl being abducted by people in a black pickup. Little girl!” The black uniform leaned farther in, “Why are you on the floor?”
“Because I like being cool!” Jocelyn snapped back.
The black uniform stepped back and raised his gun, “Get out of the vehicle! All of you! She will stay with us!”
“Grandpa, please don’t let them take me!”
“Everybody stay put,” Carter said as quietly as he could and gently slipped into gear, causing the pickup to vaguely jerk—as all vehicles do no matter how carefully one puts them in gear, “When I floor it everybody lean down as much as you can.”
He floored it, “Duck!”
They hit the three black uniforms blocking the highway so hard that he almost lost control of the steering but he kept it floored. Then came the sound of guns firing, and bullets began hitting the back window and passing through to the windshield. He held onto the steering wheel with his right hand and tried to lower himself a little more.
Then the sound of firing got more distant, then it got louder. They reached the actual state line, and saw it was people at the official state line returning fire. He turned off the highway as he realized they were suddenly among an encampment. And his neck felt wet.
Excerpts from Chapter 31 “Killer From the Sky” & Chapter 32 “The Child Warrior”
(Carter has the most viewpoint.)
Then came a tremendous blast. His world all but stopped. He found himself lying on his back, seeing only golden cottonwood leaves and the blue approaching autumn sky, and how beautiful his world on the farm was, and thinking about someday getting to move out to the farm and leaving all the city woes behind. He would watch Chantal and Dodie ride Sheikh. He would play with Dodie like a real grandfather would…Dodie…Dodie’s gone. He had Jocelyn now—where’s Jocelyn?
My god! Jocelyn! She was outside! Why is she outside? Dear God! Dear God!
Some of his senses returned. Through peripheral vision he felt more than saw the Mrap finally move ahead, then heard a huge crash, close by, then the ground shook—Sawyer! Sawyer had to be ramming the Mrap! That would throw it onto its side. He suddenly felt so proud of that boy! Then came deafening small arms fire. He felt for his gun. He couldn’t find it. He couldn’t even move—what the hell is wrong with me? His world began darkening—Jocelyn! What was she doing there? Amber behind her! Running! Where did they come from? Out of his darkening world came one of those inhuman monsters with the dark face shield, with a gun, aiming at him! Jocelyn was at his side, grasping at his leg—why? What was she doing? Jocelyn, Sweetheart, get away! Please! Go and hide! More small arms fire, and much closer…his world went black again…then he saw more people around him…Chantal!
**** (In this short scene Chantal has the viewpoint.)
“Get him on the stretcher, and get a tourniquet on that leg!” Chantal knelt beside her father and held his head stable as four others lifted him onto a stretcher, “Dad, can you hear me?” She saw Mavis applying the tourniquet, and saw his eyes fluttering, “Daddy, please…!” She rose with the stretcher bearers and gripped his hand, “Daddy, if you can hear me, please, squeeze my hand!” He did, barely. She dropped his hand, “Get him up to the house and then get back here! We have more wounded!”
Then she finally noticed Jocelyn beside her father, holding onto his other hand…and carrying a gun, the tiny one he said he had allowed her to shoot—and it was cocked! She hurried to Jocelyn’s side, and noticed the brave little girl had her finger off the trigger and stiffly beside it, just like her daddy probably had showed her, “Jocelyn, honey, please let me have that.” She tried to sound calm, “I’ll just keep it for you, honey.”
Big-eyed but steady, Jocelyn looked at her, then handed over the gun and rejoined her dad and held his hand as they continued toward the house. She released the hammer on the gun and put it on safety. Why did Jocelyn have the gun? Why is she even out here?
Carter heard every word his darling daughter spoke…what a heroine! But what the hell happened? He felt himself being carried. He saw Mavis holding something on his leg—why was she doing that? And why were they carrying him? He could walk—he should be walking. He saw Jocelyn walking beside him, holding onto his left hand with both her hands.
She looked at him, “Don’t die, Grandpa—please don’t die.” She said it so calmly, yet with such feeling and depth. How could he die? He wouldn’t. He tried to tell her he wouldn’t, but he couldn’t speak. He felt like his world was hollow and echoing back and forth.