Eviction Notice: New World Order

By Don Trimble

Eviction Notice: A New World Order is the Sequel to Hybris, and is a story in which North Americans have been given an Eviction Notice to vacate the continent. They have roughly 120 days to leave North America. Where do 528 million people go? Who will take them in? What money is acceptable? What belongings do they take? Who has given them this ultimatum? Who has the power to do this? Are aliens behind this? Or is this some elaborate hoax?

T. Hill Mansfield and his wife and fellow archaeologist, Renée, are placed into this dilemma. No one knows who has given the Eviction Notice, but North Americans soon learn that this is not a hoax or some deranged hacker playing a joke. This is real and 528 million people must fight for their lives, find a way to get off North America, and somehow find a country that will take them in.

They must survive.

Eviction Notice is a story of survival and death. It's the story of T. and Renée's intense struggle to save themselves and seven others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9780692288191

Book preview

Prologue

Super Bowl Sunday—sports fans and non-sports fans across the planet gather on this sport’s holy day to appease the sports gods through overindulgence of everything from football facts and information to chicken wings and barbeque, beer and mojitos. Fans don their favorite team’s uniform and root for their team, the one they haven’t seen play all year. Renée and T. Hill Mansfield are a part of this pageantry; over twenty friends and family have gathered at their home high atop a rocky outcropping overlooking Lake Tahoe to watch The Game and share friendships.

Televisions are on the pre-game as they have been for two weeks. No one is watching Heidi. The Game of the year is about to begin, bets are laid in Vegas, Reno and Tahoe. The casino sports books rake in more money for this one game than for all other football games combined for the past season. For some it’s not just a game, it’s a life changer; borrowed money will never be repaid if the bettor’s team loses, but it’s the high life if the chosen team wins. The outcome of life or death rests with twenty-two men battling for supremacy on the gridiron. This Super Bowl Sunday—it’s not just a life changer for the betting world; it’s a life changer for the entire world.

It is kick off time, the ball rockets high and long, both teams rush towards one another when the screens go dark. Viewers go berserk and pound on their sets and throw beer bottles at the TV screens in sports bars; fist fights break out as the screens remain blank. North America will never be the same. The Game returns with a superimposed message on the screens. Super Bowl Sunday is now Super Survival Sunday as Panama to the Artic Ocean, the entire North American Continent, receives an Eviction Notice.

Where do over 528 million people go? Is the eviction notice for real? Is this a Super Bowl hacker’s super prank? How will other countries be able to absorb such an enormous population? Who has the power to evict the strongest military ever assembled? Can the United States, Canada, Mexico, Panama, Belize, Guatemala, San Salvador, Costa Rica, Honduras and Nicaragua stand and fight? Who are they fighting? Should they fight? Why not stay and suffer the consequences? Most of the questions will be answered on Super Bowl Sunday—most, but not all, as the answers complicate the questions.

Eviction Notice: New World Order is a story of survival and death. It’s the story of the Mansfield’s struggle to evacuate from North America. If they can find a way to escape, where will they go? There isn’t enough time for everyone to leave, as planes and ships will be overwhelmed. Who stays? Who goes? Who decides? Or, is it chaos? T. and Renée’s super day of fun and camaraderie becomes a day of confusion and planning. Will they survive?

Chapter 1

In The Beginning

T. looked up from the journal he was reading to focus on the present. It had been thirteen, fourteen years since they had neutralized the Illuminati and set up thousands of Mind/Body Training Centers around the world.

He was comfortable sitting in his large, reclining leather chair as he returned to the journal he had momentarily laid on his lap. He wasn’t much of an active player in this journal, but he reflected how he, Renée, Jason, and Monique had found Ikiem in the North Sahara Desert, how Ikiem and his people had taken them through Mind/ Body Control Training, and how they had then brought the secret of health and longevity to the world.

As Renée worked in the kitchen, she noticed that T. was reading her journal, the one in which she had recorded a brief narrative relating to her and T.’s kidnapping by Hampton Squires when T. had gone berserk and killed Squires and his henchmen. She recalled how she had freed herself of the chains that T. had not totally destroyed, enabling her to contact Ikiem, who activated individually-planted biobombs that resulted in over 20,000 hybris-minded One-World Government people being eliminated. She and Ikiem had been the ones who were finally able to bring Mind/Body Control Training to the world with no worries from Squires or the Illuminati.

T. was sure that he had been totally involved in the initial introduction of Mind/Body Control Training Centers to the masses, but Renée’s journal recorded that he had played only a small part prior to his coma. Renée had explained to him that he did play a critical, initial part in getting the information to virtually all four corners of the world, but by the time he came out of his coma, millions of centers had been constructed and over a billion people had received training.

T. glanced at Renée. He still couldn’t believe she had married him. He watched her as she walked past the doorway; she didn’t look like a grandmother—five-seven, 135 pounds, tanned, with brown eyes, sun-bleached blonde hair and a very nice shape.

Renée read T.’s thoughts. I heard that. Keep your mind on the journal. Sometimes you don’t shield your thoughts as you should, Renée commented from the kitchen.

Why would I want to protect those thoughts?

It’s not those particular thoughts; it’s where those thoughts lead that you need to shield, Renée replied.

He got up from his overstuffed Arizona leather chair and replaced the journal in order on the bookshelf. T. glanced out the den’s window that framed Mt. Talac as its centerpiece. I’d better get ready for our guests, he said to Renée. They should start calling for me to bring them up the hill soon. The pre-game has been on for over an hour.

Dear, the Super Bowl pre-game has been on for the last two weeks, Renée pointed out.

Yep, of course it has. The Super Bowl isn’t about football or the game; it’s about the advertising and the partying. No one really cares who wins; it’s how much money everyone makes, including the players and the coaches, T. related to Renée. And, we’re doing our small part to support capitalism.

Ikiem, Maria, the Herberts, Jason, and Monique are all getting ready and should be upstairs any minute. John Thunder, his wife Mary, Billy Hightower and his fiancée, and all the rest should be here any time needing rides up our icy hill. You know, we’re going to have fifteen or twenty of us all milling around eating, getting drinks, and watching the pre-game. It’s great that everyone is staying over; what a party.

Yes, dear, that’s why Monique, Maria, Clare, and I have been cooking for the last two days in preparation for all our company. I don’t care how much it snows, they had all better show up, and they had better be hungry.

Chapter 2

Super Bowl Sunday

Dad T., who’s your pick to win the Super Bowl? Monique quizzed her father-in-law. Knowing full well T. was a 49ers fan, she added, Dad and you will be at odds today; he’s always been a Giants fan.

The Giants don’t stand a chance, T. responded. It will be the 49ers from the kickoff. And besides, what does a Frenchman know about American football?

T. looked over at his daughter-in-law. About Renée’s height—five-seven or eight—blonde hair, flawless skin, and as Jason likes to say, curves, curves.

You’d better be careful, mister, or I’ll be telling your wife, Monique said to T.

Too late. I already heard his thoughts and he’s in trouble, Renée said from the other room.

T. looked into the kitchen, over the counter, at his wife—almost forty-five in calendar years but only thirty-four as far as actual aging is concerned, but still she puts most twenty-yearolds to shame. Damn, I’d better keep my thoughts to myself.

Once again, too late. Are you ever going to learn? came the voice from the kitchen.

Renée heard Jason calling his dad from the lower level of their home at Tahoe and couldn’t help but think, Father and son are almost twins. From the back the only giveaway is that a little bit of hair is missing from T.’s scalp that he lost before the training. Jason has blue eyes; T., brown. Jason’s six-two; T., six even. Jason’s about 210 and T. is about 200 pounds. They walk the same, talk the same, and laugh the same. Yep, two T.s in a pod.

Billy Hightower and his wife were among the first of the local guests to arrive and call for a ride up to T. and Renée’s home. As Hightower and his wife dusted off the snow and got out of their boots and parkas, Billy heard what Renée was thinking and responded, Renée, I heard that thought about the missing hair from T.’s scalp and I want to be on record that it was not me. If someone scalped T., it was Thunder who did it.

T. thought, Hightower, with his dark complexion looks more Italian than Washo Indian. About Jason’s height but a little heavier perhaps; a true friend of the family.

OK, T., once again, I am not Italian. I know you think I am a fake Indian, but let me convince you by showing you the way a real Indian cuts a white man’s hair, Hightower thought back at T.

Wow, I’ll get scalped by everyone if I don’t quit thinking out loud.

Too late, came a chorus of voices from all over the house.

The Mansfields’ big-screen TV almost filled the country kitchen/family room and continued to babble with pre-game trivia: who was hurt, how one player matched up against another on the opposing team, win-loss records, trades, all the stuff no one paid attention to but that set the stage for the big game.

Over the next hour, T. drove the Rover up and down the road from Highway 50, to the top of the Cave Rock development, to their home named Eagle’s Nest. Everyone who had RSVP’D was now there and enjoying the friendship, food and the fire roaring in the fireplace.

T.’s cell phone rang. Who’s not here? he quipped as he picked up his phone and said hello; he noticed that all the other cell phones were also ringing. No answer. He went into his den and closed the door to better hear the person who had called. Hello, T. said for the second time and then looked at the cell phone’s screen. It was a simple text message but confusing; it stated: You Must Leave.

T. looked at his phone and accessed the phone’s history to see who had texted him. No record. The last call was from one of their guests for T. to come down and pick them up. T. walked out of the den with a confused look on his face; Johnny Thunder inquired as to what was wrong.

T. showed Johnny his message. Johnny said, Wait, let me show you the message I get every hour. I don’t know where it’s coming from or who might be sending it, but I’ve been getting them for days; so has my wife and other members of our families.

Everyone in the house had their cell phones out as they gathered in the country kitchen. They first looked at their own phones and then at the others as they entered the room. Hightower brought his cell phone out; it read the same as Thunder’s: You Are Approved To Stay.

Then, just as the 49ers kicked off to the Giants, with the ball still in the air, the big screen went black, and a message flashed on the screen so quickly that no one could read it. After a few mo-ments the message returned, went blank again, and then came on and stayed on, no matter what was done to the TV, even when they unplugged the set from the wall and disconnected the cable feed. The message remained, seemingly burned into the screen:

All Non-Native North American Continent Inhabitants

Must Vacate Our Land.

Your Final Day On Our Ground Is

May 31st Of Your Year.

Renée turned on the radio. Nothing but static and then a metallic voice came over the airwaves, stating the exact message as on the TV.

What kind of prank is this? T. asked no one in particular as he reached for the landline phone. T. heard a dial tone, but the call wouldn’t go through to the cable company.

Wow! Is someone going to pay for hacking into all of our communication systems, Jason said as he looked at his friend Hightower, who was flipping channels in an attempt to find a station that didn’t have the message.

Hey, don’t look at me just because I’m Indian. I didn’t hack into the game or the radios, Hightower said.

Feeling guilty, are we? Jason badgered Hightower. Finally kicking us off your land, are we?

OK, that thought may have entered my mind, but no, I wasn’t thinking that. But I was wondering why natives were told to stay and all others were told to leave, Hightower said. And what do those coordinates refer to ?

T. went into the den to look at the globe. Everyone followed. T. looked at the globe, then the coordinates he had hurriedly written down. Well, they’re more than just a little rugged, but basically the line follows a boundary approximately seven miles out from the shore line. It excludes Greenland and Baffin Island, goes north of Victoria Island, around Alaska, splits the Bering Strait, does not include any of the Aleutian Islands, down the western coast of Canada, United States, Mexico, Central America to Panama, through the Canal. It excludes Cuba, Jamaica, Haiti and the Dominican Republic, finally up the coast of the United States and Canada. Unless otherwise stipulated, seventeen miles is as close as boats or planes are allowed to approach. No flyovers are allowed.

A few minutes later the Super Bowl came back on the screen, but the eviction notice overlaid the game, making it next to impossible to see what was going on. The commentators apologized for the message and advised that their techs were working on the problem, but when T. changed channels the message remained on the screen regardless.

T. flipped to Fox News; the reporters there stated that this message was being broadcast worldwide but, of course, pertained only to North America. Fox had no answers. The same confusion was related to the viewing public from all the networks. CBS, as usual, was trying to propose a theory that conservatives were behind the problem. One liberal senator or another was trying their best to correct the problem. One senator who was interviewed couldn’t pass up the chance to push for socialized communications and stated that If television transmissions were state-controlled this would not have happened.

CNN’s reporter was interviewing the Democrat mayor of New York, who blamed the interruption on the warming of the environment.

Without exception, everyone at T. and Renée’s Super Bowl party called family or friends. As they tried to hold cell phone conversations, the message continued in the background. All of North America’s population, except Natives, had just been given an eviction notice. But by whom and for what cause or reason? What kind of a prank was this that hackers could affect all communications throughout the entire world? This had to be a huge joke.

Monique’s father asked his wife, Clare, are you taking this warning seriously?

Jean-Paul said, Just in case this is not a prank, I think we’ll leave for Avignon tomorrow morning. He dialed the airlines he and Clare had flown in on. The phone line was busy and remained busy for the next four hours; finally Jean-Paul got through. Six seats remained on the last flight out of Reno, with the connecting flight out of Denver and on through to Marseille. Jean-Paul took all six seats even though he needed only two.

T., Renée, Jason, Monique, do you want the other four seats? Jean-Paul inquired.

We’re one ticket shy, Renée responded. Friends are bringing Tia home from Reno. And if this thing isn’t a hoax and we do have to leave, we have so much to do before we leave, we couldn’t fly out tomorrow anyway. But thank you for the offer.

Anyone else? Jean-Paul inquired.

Jean-Paul looked at Monique and Jason. We can’t leave here at this time, Jason and Monique both said at the same time. We could take Tia with us, but that would leave Mom and Dad to make their way alone; no, we’ll stay and make our way somehow to somewhere.

If no one else wants two of those seats, Ikiem interjected, Maria and I will take two. We need to return to Faux-Avignon.

Bon, was Jean-Paul’s reply.

I don’t think we should panic, at least not yet. How many days do we have if this is for real? T. asked.

Roughly 115 days, was Hightower’s response.

Turn Fox back on; we need more information, Renée said.

They accessed the news channel. There was indeed more information. The US, Canadian, Mexican, Belize, Guatemalan, Panamanian, Puerto Rican, and all the other governments within the eviction zone had received the same new message.

Three Cities Will Be Destroyed.

The Fox News anchor looked into the camera and asked or stated, I have no idea what this new message means. I know it’s clear, ‘Three cities will be destroyed.’ But why? Who could do this or even make the threat? Or how would someone destroy three cities, and to what purpose? What three cities? What time frame? We have reports that the US and Canadian Air Forces have scrambled and are searching for aircraft. Oh no! This just in–News Alert: All military aircraft, I repeat, all military aircraft have been destroyed. All intercontinental missile sites have been destroyed, and a number of aircraft carriers and submarines may also have been destroyed. It looks bad.

Not sure why, but thank God we are getting reports stating that commercial flights have not been threatened and are still allowed to fly.

Someone flipped the TV to a new channel. The news anchorwoman there basically echoed Fox; no more details were given.

Jason flipped back to the Super Bowl game being played in Denver. The game was tied at twelve, and two minutes remained in the third quarter. Jason sat down to try and relax and let things settle in when the TV again went blank. Nothing. He flipped back to CNN. The news anchor looked stunned. She tried to speak but could not. Finally, another lady anchor stepped in and said, Reports are just in; preliminary reports are that Denver is gone—destroyed—Mexico City is gone and Panama City is gone. These are preliminary reports and have not been confirmed; they may be part of a horrendous hoax. We’ll keep you updated as we get more information. Wait, we have just received eyewitness confirmation regarding Denver. Denver is gone. Where Denver was is just smoldering earth—no cars, no buildings, no Super Bowl game and no people whatsoever.

T. grabbed the remote from Jason and changed the channel to FOX NEWS. The commentator finished reporting on Denver when his head dropped and his chin almost bounced off his chest. We have just received confirmation that both Mexico City and Panama City are destroyed as well. Nothing is left, just smoldering earth.

FOX continued. No reports of explosions. No seismic activity. Eyewitnesses state that there was just a blinding flash and the cities disappeared. Whoever or whatever destroyed Denver, Mexico and Panama City must now be taken very seriously. This is not an elaborate hoax; it is for real. It seems that the cities were destroyed as a warning shot. Make no mistake, North America has been given an eviction notice. We all had better make plans to leave.

Chapter 3

Reaction

The group of friends at T. and Renée’s sat near the fire burning in the oversized fireplace. Stunned looks on their faces, some still tried to reach loved ones via cell phone. Cells still worked, but the landlines were all down. Those that lived more than a short drive away made plans to leave early in the morning and arranged for T. to take them down the hill. Those who lived in Carson City, Tahoe, or the Reno area were preparing to leave. T. put his jacket and snow boots on.

Someone turned the TV back on. President Kenzie was addressing the nation.

". . . we are doing our best to discover who or what destroyed Denver, Mexico City and Panama City. Our satellites, telescopes, and radars from all nations are scanning the skies, looking for some type of spacecraft or weapon so that we can address it and hopefully destroy it before it can do anymore harm.

"As a precaution, all nations involved with the ‘Eviction Notice’ have begun negotiations with non-affected countries. Many of the South American countries have already volunteered to absorb Mexico and Central America’s population of approximately 165 million people. Of course, the dislocated population must find a way to transport their families and possessions to the host countries.

"As of this moment, no invitations to relocate citizens to other countries have been received by the United States, who has over 310 million people, and Canada, with 35 million people; however, both of us are in contact with a few administrations that have vast uninhabited lands, such as Russia and Australia.

"Those of you who have contacts in other countries that may be willing to take you in should make travel arrangements as soon as possible and hope that the host country will allow you to stay. The destruction of Denver makes it very clear that we must take this demand seriously. It will be difficult for you, but only take things of value. Limit what you take, much like the wagon train emigrants of the 1850s and 60s. God bless you. I will update you as I can.

One more thing: I know this is shocking, but who else could be doing these things other than aliens?

The TV returned to its message.

T. was on his computer. Do you know how many criminals are behind bars in the US? He didn’t wait for a guess. 2.3 million. In Canada, 32,000, and in Mexico, 192,000. That’s millions of criminals who are, what? Going to be set free? Shot? Sent to the arctic? What the hell do we do with the criminal population? Not to mention those in rest homes. Look here, it is estimated that over 19 million seniors live in rest homes. How do we get the elderly to safety, and what happens to those who are trapped and must stay?

The Rover was loaded with their guests, who just six hours before had been sitting down to what was billed as the Super Bowl of the century. Now the teams were gone, the fans were gone, Denver was gone. What the hell? How do we fight this, this thing? We don’t even know where it is or what IT is? And what happens to those of us who can’t find a way off this continent? Are we allowed to stay in concentration camps? This is just too bizarre.

Hightower, addressing T., said, Listen, for whatever reason Indians are allowed to stay; I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but somehow we must try to stay in touch. If the cell phones continue to function, call me each Sunday at 4:00 p.m. Reno time. Maybe we can defeat this thing from the inside if it comes to that. If the cells stop working, send smoke signals. Hightower and Thunder laughed. Sorry, that was a lame attempt to lighten the mood a little. But I am sincere in trying to keep in touch.

I know, the smoke signal joke was a good one. I was lost in thought as to how I’m going to get my family off this continent in time, T. said with a hollow tone in his voice.

T, when you take everyone down the hill, Maria and I are going to ride to Reno with Hightower. Maybe we can catch an earlier flight out. The sooner we stop this thing, if we can, the better, Ikiem said.

Sure.

Goodbyes were said, complete with hugs and tears; they all realized this could very well be the last time any one of them would see the other.

Not much more was said as the Mansfields’ guests made their way to their respective vehicles, cleared the snow off their windows, warmed their cars up a little, then departed.

Then silence.

Snow fell in large flakes as moonbeams from the half-moon made their way through the broken clouds. The storm was almost over. The wind blew the snow off the Ponderosa pines’ branches, seemingly creating another storm. T. looked past the Ponderosas, past Cave Rock and the lake, across to the lights of Cedar Flats and Tahoe City. T. had spent hours looking out across the ever-changing scenery of Lake Tahoe, and sitting here with the car’s window down, the cold wind blowing snow across his face, the engine off, not a sound, no cars, just lights dancing off the small waves making their way to shore, nothing seemed to have changed. Not true; everything had changed.

If we do have to leave, and it sure looks that way, can we make our way across California, get on a plane or ship, and get to our home in Avignon? Jean-Paul got the last six seats out of Reno. All flights are booked out for six months; we don’t have six months. Perhaps by boat. T. started the Rover, engaged the transmission, and drove back up the hill to begin making phone calls.

I’m going to see if we can get a booking on a ship out of San Francisco or Oakland, San Diego or Seattle or Portland. What do you think, a boat is the best, right? But where are we booking to? Renée, Jason, Monique, where the heck are you guys? T. caught the thoughts of Renée and Jason as he asked his questions. No matter that he could read thoughts with the best of them, everyone in T.’s family still used their vocal cords to communicate. Wow, all that training, all the lectures, all the training centers, all the ‘powers’ we have, and we’re getting kicked off our continent by something we can’t even see?

Shush, Monique has just gotten all of us on a French freighter that will be leaving Oakland in fifty-eight days, around April 5th or 6th. The accommodations are Spartan and we’ll have to stay below deck except from midnight to 6:00 a.m. Those are our deck hours when we won’t get in the way. By the way, the captain will only accept gold, silver or diamonds, and the charge is $10,000 a head. It includes two meals a day and all the coffee you want to drink. The ship’s making a return trip to Marseille. When we get to France, we’ll just be a couple hours from home. I think we’re going to be OK, Renée finished.

Somehow we have to survive for two months and then get across California. Should we leave in a few days and try to hold out in the Bay Area or stay here and make our way across the state when California will be in total chaos? T. responded.

Monique, why don’t you and Tia fly out tomorrow with your parents. Renée, Jason, and I will rejoin you in two months; that way we’ll know you’re both safe.

Monique looked at T. with a little bit of a hurt look, her lower lip a bit of a pout. Do you think at the first sign of adversity I would abandon Jason? Dad, do you think of me as a shallow person with no backbone?

No, God no, not at all. I was hoping that a few more people that I love could get out of harm’s way; that’s all. I really wasn’t thinking that it would upset you or be a slander to your personality. Sorry.

Maybe Tia would be willing to take one of the seats? T. said.

Seats where? came the response as Tia came into the room.

Did you drive up the road by yourself? T. asked his daughter.

As Tia brushed the snow from her coat, she responded, I used the ATV you keep in the garage at the bottom of the hill. You know, you’re not the only one who can drive on ice; I kept the right tires on the far right side of the road, in the sand-covered snow, just as you taught me. When do we leave?

We’re working on that now. Grab a cup of chocolate or hot tea and we’ll catch you up, her mother responded.

If we had just another month, perhaps everyone could evacuate by aircraft, but there just isn’t enough time. Damn it, why don’t they show themselves so we can at least fight for our country?

The TV was still on, and FOX News