Night of Screams

By Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

In the early years of the twenty-first century, a vile evil
ascended the throne of the American Republic. He came
from obscurity, shrouded in mystery and misdirection.
Like the serpent, he promised all things to all people.
He always said what people wanted to hear. His open
disdain for America, the Constitution, and its governing
principles went unnoticed by the mainstream media,
which quickly became his Ministry of Propaganda.

This man, Mabus, ascended the American throne, not
by rightful election of the populace, but by enormous
propaganda efforts and fraudulent voting practices,
funded by his foreign masters who counted among
their numbers dictators, terrorists, and rabid socialists
bent upon the destruction of America.

Mike Robinson, an Army veteran, tried to remain neutral;
hoping that the legitimate political processes would solve
the Mabus problem and restore sanity to America. However,
when Mabus ordered the wholesale incarceration of loyal
Americans by purple berets and UN soldiers, hopes for
neutrality vanished.

Escaping from a brutal concentration camp, Mike joins forces
with other Americans trying to restore their country to its
erstwhile greatness. With the military in exile, the small band
of loyalists wage a relentless war against the domestic enemies
of America and its Constitution.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP
• Release date: Oct 12, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465916488

Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

Ronald Goulden has written novels and stories for thirty years. Having served in Viet Nam as a Translator/Interpreter, He quickly adapts to new cultures and sees a story or an adventure everywhere. He has ‘dabbled’ in witchcraft, though he is not a witch. All of his novels and stories have interconnecting threads that link them into a larger universe, spanning space and time. Some of the links are obvious, while others are very subtle. Some of the events in the stories are based on real life, while others are pure fiction. The distinction between fact and fiction is up to the reader. Having studied witchcraft many years earlier, it had always been in my mind. When I became an IT Director for the Farm Credit bank system in Wichita, I observed the ‘power’ a small group of ladies expressed over others in the bank and their general disdain for many of the men. I had also researched the BTK Killer during his spree and developed a program that allowed me to ‘predict’ his next attacks. As such, I saw the potential for violence in anyone. After being treated rather rudely by the band of bank beauties, I decided to write a story to explain their odd and overbearing personalities. Using newspaper stories and personal experiences, I settled on baby sacrifices and Satanism. While the personalities and physical attributes are based upon real people I knew at the time, their involvement is this story is purely fiction. There are many ‘links’ in this story to the other novels I’ve written over time, essentially building an alternate universe.

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Night of Screams

Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2011 Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover design by Ronald N. Goulden

Table of Contents

Prelude

Beginnings

Capture

Freedom

Logistics

Intelligence

Travel

Tribes

Conflict

Words

War

Union

Mabus

Other Books by Ronald Goulden

Prelude

Years ago, in my youth, I dabbled in the ‘dark arts’ and did more than my share of spells, incantations, and séances. As I matured, I left all of that behind me, or so I thought. Late one night, having struggled with sleep, I got up and fixed myself a stout drink and went to my veranda.

As was my habit when sitting outside in the middle of the night, I carried a big bore pistol. Living on nine acres, an occasional ‘wild’ creature needed discouragement from getting too inquisitive.

I was sitting thus, when she stepped from the underbrush soundlessly, smiling brightly as she approached me, highlighted by the brilliant moon above. My right hand instinctively inched toward my weapon as this comely stranger miraculously appeared on my land and strode purposefully toward me.

At one point, she stopped in her tracks, and motioned to someone behind her. A moment later, a man joined her. Man and woman were heavily armed. The young woman had a huge pistol of unknown make or caliber on her right hip. The man carried matching pistols in military style holsters on a web belt.

My hand rested comfortably close to my own pistol as the pair approached. Both had a translucent quality about their appearance, possibly induced by my scotch. The woman walked with an energetic bounce to her stride and appeared quite comfortable with her surroundings. The man, however, was cautious and carried himself as one who has been hunted.

As they approached, I judged her to be petite, possibly one hundred five pounds and only a few inches over five feet tall. I assumed she was Caucasian, though she was so heavily tanned to an unusual golden hue that determination of her race was impossible, I could not be certain, though it did not matter.

Dressed for a much warmer climate, she wore sandals laced just above her calves and a sleeveless, silk gown of a nondescript color and pattern supported by a single thin strap running from her left shoulder. The hem of her dress ranged from knee high on the left side to mid-calf on the other. Around her waist she wore a belt that appeared to be encrusted with medallions of gold. This belt and a smaller version that extended over her left shoulder supported the weight of the big gun at her right hip. Where a belt buckle would normally reside rested an ornate dagger. However, I knew it was far more functional than decorative.

On either wrist, she wore several bracelets of gold and silver fashioned in patterns I had never seen before. Her ears sported earrings of an intricate design. As she stepped deeper into the light of the moon, I could see that all of this beauty was topped by jet-black hair, laced with broad tints of gold, reaching just above her shoulders.

She smiled disarmingly as she stepped closer, waving happily. As she neared, I marveled at her strange translucence. I had not drunk enough scotch to account for any impaired vision, so I assumed I was actually seeing through her. Oddly enough, in my life, I had seen stranger things.

Hello Jennifer. It’s been a while.

The young apparition, Jennifer Clarkson had visited me before and regaled me with tales of her world.

Can I get you and your companion a scotch?

That would be nice, yes. She enchanted me with a smile as she sat in the chair beside mine. Oh! With Ice!

I extended my hand to her companion, an older man wearing military olive drab clothing. Having served in the military, the lack of rank or unit patches was telling. He was of slight, but powerful build with close cropped graying hair. I judged him to be in his fifties, though I could have been wrong.

In spite of his translucence, his handshake was firm as he looked me in the eye. Call me Mike.

As we shook hands, I noticed he had a one quarter inch by one inch blue bar tattooed on the top of his hand. I did not ask about it at the time.

I pulled another chair next to the young woman and entered the house to fix my guests a drink. I grabbed my recorder, I had a feeling I might need it.

Jennifer giggled as I handed her the scotch. She immediately pushed at an ice cube with her finger tip, watching it bounce back to the surface of her drink. This is so cool! I just love ice.

I reclaimed my chair. So Jennifer, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I hope all is well with your family?

Everyone says to tell you hello. Things have been exciting, but that’s not the purpose of this trip. We need to tell you Mike’s story. I think you may find it interesting and prophetic.

I forced my attention away from the comely young woman and turned toward the man.

My name is Mike Robinson. As you’ve no doubt guessed, I come from a parallel world, not terribly unlike yours; Maybe it is your world. I do have a tale to tell, though it is incomplete and lacks a satisfactory ending, so far.

I’d love to hear your tale. I’ll record it, if you don’t mind.

The man glanced at the device and nodded. I came here to tell you my story so you can warn your people.

The man began talking and continued through the night. I present his story as he told it to me, with only minor adjustments to improve the flow of the tale.

Beginnings

In the early years of the twenty-first century, a vile evil and corruption ascended the throne of the American Republic. He came from obscurity, shrouded in mystery and misdirection. Like the serpent, he promised to be all things to all people. He always said what people wanted to hear. His open disdain for America, the Constitution, and its governing principles went unnoticed by the mainstream media, which quickly became his Ministry of Propaganda.

This man, Mabus, ascended the throne, not by rightful election of the populace, but by enormous propaganda efforts, funded by his foreign masters who counted among their numbers dictators, terrorists, and rabid socialists.

In the early stages of his ‘election’ he used brute force and intimidation to sway people to his mission and silence those who opposed him. Even before his ascent to power, these were dark days, the global economy was failing, war threatened everywhere, disease grew and spread into pandemics. Hundreds of thousands of people lost their jobs every month as this man spewed his lies and wove his web of deceit and betrayal.

Inquiries about his past, his citizenship, and his relationships surfaced and flowed across the Internet until a few months after his ‘coronation’. Then, people started ‘disappearing, quietly at first, then with increasing disdain for subtlety. The message spread quickly, Disagree with Mabus and suffer the punishment.

Among his first actions in office was to triple the national debt and create a massive budget, giving himself trillions of dollars in discretionary funds he began forming his Civilian Defense Corps; his private army.

***

Working as an Information Technology Director for one of the country’s largest lawncare companies, I approached my CIO with my candidate for the Senior Network Architect. Curtis was certified in every network architecture and protocol available. He had a Master’s Degree in Information Technology with twenty years experience designing and implementing computer networks for Fortune 100 companies.

Dick, I want to offer Curtis the position of Senior Network Architect. He is immensely qualified and experienced, and has family ties here in Memphis. He’s perfect for the position. I handed Dick the resume and supporting documents.

Dick took the documents and tossed them on his desk without looking at them. Mike, you’re too late. Clark decided that the gentleman from India will be a better fit. I’ve already started the H1B paperwork. He’ll start next Monday.

What! Clark doesn’t know a damned thing about networking. I’m the Infrastructure Director. The hardware and network are my responsibility. Where does that dipshit get off dictating who I hire?

Clark’s not dictating I am. Clark likes the work ethic of the Indians, so we’ll hire him. You’re just going to have to work with him.

"That’s insane! You choose to put your network of more than two hundred branches in the hands of an overpaid foreign national over an extremely qualified American who does not require sponsorship?

Well, get used to it. Clark and this gentleman will be staffing the entire network team. I’m getting rid of the seven guys we currently have.

What? Why?

I just think it’s wise to ‘shake things up’ now and then and bring in new blood.

That’s absurd! My team has built this network from the ground up and it is rock solid. It hasn’t failed in more than two years and its performance is phenomenal. You can’t just fire people on a whim.

Yes I can, Tennessee is a ‘Right to Work’ state. I don’t even have to give a reason. It’s going to cost me more to rebuild the team, but it’ll be worth it.

You’re serious?

As a rock. Get on board or get out.

To hell with you, Dick. I tossed my badge on his desk as I returned to my office to clean out my desk.

As I threw my belongings into a box, Clark leaned on my door frame. You know, I find that people from India are just much better employees than Americans. You have to pay them a lot more, but they’re worth it.

Clark, you need to shut up and leave. I’ll hurt you and make you cry.

He chuckled, Mike, I’m half your age and have thirty pounds on you. I’d slap you around like a little girl.

I stopped my work and approached him. He was a few inches taller than me. Size, strength, and youth mean little if you do not know what to do. Start slapping.

He backed away, I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.

Right now, I want to hurt someone; it may as well be you. Start slapping back up your claim, or are you afraid of an old man?

He just stared at me.

That’s what I thought.

***

A few weeks later, I sat in a ‘social networking’ group at a neighborhood church, trying to find a job. I shared the room with twenty others who had been ‘displaced’ by downsizing, off-shoring, and other corporate stupidity.

When in a new situation, I prefer to listen and learn before I speak. Three of the five men sitting at my table worked in computer and networking fields.

A heavyset man spoke out, You know, it’s funny. I hired one middle easterner on an H1B a year ago because I felt sorry for him at the time. Right after he came in, he redesigned the network without authorization, changed passwords, loaded a bunch of undefined scripts on the server. When I challenged him about it, he said that the CFO told him to do it. When I asked the CFO, she admitted that she did authorize those changes, without my knowledge or oversight. She said it seemed like a good idea.

A skinny young woman added, I had a similar experience. My bosses refused to hire any Americans for the networking jobs; they brought in H1B’s at much higher salaries than was budgeted. When my team found out, they all went elsewhere. It’s like the executives want to get rid of Americans and turn their networks over to the Middle East.

A quiet man in a dark suit asked, What if all of these Middle East network people could communicate and coordinate their efforts to shut down large portions of the American communications infrastructure and even the Internet on command?

***

Still looking for a job, I surfed the Internet daily and checked my email constantly. I found one news article to be particularly onerous and alarming. According to the Department of Homeland Security, I was now classified as a ‘Right Wing Extremist’ under a number of categories; because I was a veteran, believed in the Constitution, supported the Second Amendment, and resented the ever increasing taxes.

Well shit. Two years of being shot at in Viet Nam at the demand of my country, and now I’m a security threat.

***

Over the course of the next several weeks, I noticed the increased frequency of gun crimes. However, many of the reports were re-circulated and rehashed with the obvious intent of keeping the ‘guns are bad’ mentality to the forefront. The media was in a frenzy, demonizing firearms and the Second Amendment.

It seemed that every night, reports of DHS, BATF, or some other alphabet organization breaking into someone’s house and confiscating guns and ammunition filed the airways. The efforts were so obvious to anyone with half a brain.

Mabus issued a proclamation that all civilian firearms had to be registered within thirty days.

It was about this time that I noticed an increased military presence in the city and even on the highways. However, I did not recognize any of the unit patches. On one occasion, I walked past a military vehicle and noticed a blue helmet in the back seat, partially covered. The soldiers were randomly checking IDs of pedestrians.

When I returned home, I logged onto the Internet and did a search for ‘UN Unit Patches and discovered that the patch I saw was a French unit. That’s curious."

***

The UN presence continued to grow without question or comment by the media. I sent an email to my Congressman. The response was a firm denial of the presence of any foreign military on American soil. I took a photo and emailed it to the Congressman, but never got a response.

One day, I saw a local news station filming a story, less than fifty feet from a pair of blue-helmeted UN soldiers checking civilian IDs. I waited politely until the session was finished, and then approached the attractive reporter. Excuse me. I was wondering if you had any interest or insights into why UN soldiers are checking American IDs?

She blinked her eyes in surprise. There are no UN soldiers in America.

I pointed to the two soldiers wearing blue helmets with the letters UN clearly visible. What about those two soldiers?

I don’t know what you’re talking about. She turned on her heel and hurried away.

It was about this time that I started noticing a lot of young men and women patrolling the streets wearing purple berets. They wore olive drab one-piece overalls and military boots. Some of them had web belts with sidearms. At first glance, they had a very military aspect.

***

A few weeks later, I found a link to the Mabus budget, and out of curiosity, I opened it. Since the budget was over three trillion dollars and no one had explained what it encompassed, I wanted to know. To my alarm and amazement, I noticed more than half a trillion dollars allocated each year for Discretionary Non-Military funding. I noticed that this Non-military discretionary budget line item was almost as big as the Military defense budget line item. Evidently Mabus was making good on his boast to create a Civilian Defense Corps (CDC) equal in size and funding to the Department of Defense.

Why would he need such a large paramilitary organization? That seems like a huge waste of money, we already have an Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, and Coast Guard.

I was disturbed by my observations. Mabus was taking over the country and subverting it in plain sight of the American people. I found his disrespectful disdain for the American people disturbing. Angered, I left my rural home and drove to the river in the hopes of finding an answer as I watched the Mississippi river.

I parked my truck and found an unoccupied bench facing the river. I sat down to enjoy the spring sunshine and watch the river and people. As I had come to expect, I noticed several UN soldiers and a dozen or so of the purple beret CDC troops patrolling.

The purple berets were rude and overbearing. They made a point of stopping every attractive woman and forcing her to submit to lengthy questioning. Some of them were physically searched in the process, though I suspect it was more of an opportunity to ‘cop a feel’ on the part of the purple berets.

Over the weeks, I had noticed that the Civilian Defense Corps seemed to have filled its ranks from the slums, ghettos, and barrios; finding angry young men and women and giving them a purpose, authority, and a weapon. Mabus also pulled heavily from the ranks of unscrupulous union thugs and questionable community organizing groups.

I was sitting on the bench, minding my own business as two purple berets approached. I saw them coming and eyed them cautiously. One was a tall, red-haired youth, while the second was a muscular Latino. I made a point of ignoring them; I