A Time Of Uncertainty

By Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

Those few survivors of the first Mabus onslaught battle wild animals, exotic alien creatures and the remnants of the human race from Earth as they explore the constantly changing merged worlds of Earth and Laithra. The driving force behind each adventurer is to find their loved ones and ultimately to thwart Mabus in his continued use of Binnean technology to inflict his wrath on all life.

Aware of the threat some of the adventurers pose to his plans, Mabus unleashed his drones, robots, and alien allies to hunt them down and bring them to his justice. Using Binnean science, he has programmed assassins whose sole purpose is to seek out his enemies and destroy them.

While pockets of humanity struggle to survive, Mabus strengthens his strongholds in the effort to remain as World Emperor. As the world collapses, he rebuilds the Capitol into a castle while imposing never-ending taxes and demands on the survivors. His goal is to ensure his power and comfort at the expense of humanity.

The small groups of adventurers must consolidate their forces and work together to overthrow the dictatorship before it takes root too strongly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP
• Release date: Dec 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310856594

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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A Time of Uncertainty

Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2015 Ronald N. Goulden

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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Cover design by bobooks

Table of Contents

Prelude

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilog

Additional Works

Prelude

Noticing a strange glow from behind my tree line, I addressed my lovely wife. I have a feeling we may have visitors tonight. Would you care to join us on the porch?

She accepted the invitation as I poured two strong scotch on the rocks and carried both drinks outside and placed the on the table to my left.

You’re drinking a bit heavy tonight, aren’t you?

I smiled and patted her leg. Let’s see what happens.

In only a few moments, a figure strode purposefully from behind the trees and advanced toward us. My wife clutched at my leg fiercely, making me gently remove her hand. Don’t worry.

As the woman in the green satin gown approached, I stood up and moved to the empty chair to my left, so that my wife would be able to interact with our visitor.

The woman shook her long red tresses as she closed the gap between us while her delicate hand gently caressed the knife at her waist.

I stood up. I assume you are Yvette DuBois.

She looked surprised that I knew her name. I introduced my wife and motioned for the woman to sit down. Let’s say your reputation precedes you. I tried to smile disarmingly.

And yours precedes you as well. The Mitchells speak highly of you. She relaxed into the char between my wife and me as she lifted the scotch. This is for me?

Yes ma’am.

You seem comfortable with unearthly visitors."

I’ve had my share.

I assume you’ve heard parts of the Mabus Chronicle?

I nodded.

Well, I’m here to tell you the next chapter, which was supposed to be the end of Mabus.

She took a long sip of her scotch. There was a hint of sadness in her voice, So many of us teamed up and coordinated our efforts to rid the worlds of that scourge. I have a message from an old friend of yours. Through a combination of cybernetics and witchcraft, I am able to be here and tell you our story. So, I thank you for the scotch and the good company. I appreciate meeting your lovely wife. She smiled at my wife.

But I only have until sunrise, so I will start my tale. I hope you have a recording device and more scotch, you going to need both. Taking her cue, I entered the house for a few moments, returning with a bucket of ice, the bottle of scotch, and my recorders.

She talked through the night, regaling us with tales of high adventure and romance, and as the first hints of red touched the sky, she stood and nodded her head to us in farewell and strode back toward the tree line. With each step, her once seemingly corporeal form became more transparent. By the time she reached the tree line, she had faded from sight.

Not used to such occurrences, my wife could only say, Oh my God!

What I offer to you is a transcription of that conversation with the green garbed redhead; I have only made minor adjustments to improve readability and continuity. What you are about to read is the best representation of the tale told to me that night.

Chapter 1

I awoke with a splitting headache, feeling unpleasantly cold. The darkness surrounding me was complete. Outside, I could hear what sounded like a ferocious tempest raging. Occasionally, something made the room shake violently.

In the deafening darkness, I wondered about my surroundings. I had no recognition of my place in space. I had no recollection of how I came to be in my current location. In fact, I had no recollection of anything.

Confounded by the absolute blackness surrounding me and the emptiness in my mind, I reached out with my arms to try to identify my whereabouts. I found I was lying supine on a slab of concrete resting at a thirty-degree angle sloping downward toward my feet. Extending my arms to the left and right, I felt nothing. However, I discovered a similar slab of concrete above me, at the extent of my reach. Beyond my head, the concrete slab extended as far as I could reach.

As I struggled to extend my reach, a sharp pain in my left leg made me gasp. Gingerly, I explored my leg and discovered that the tibia was broken, though apparently not dramatically displaced. When I felt around, searching for something to use as a splint, I discovered I wore only a pair of boxer shorts.

My movements caused the pain in my head to increase. I touched the back of my head and felt a large bump and a stickiness that could only be blood. I must have banged my head pretty hard. Funny, I don’t remember any accident.

I did not find any splinting material readily available, so my mobility was dramatically hindered.

Feeling helpless and confused, something told me I could not stay here indefinitely. Not knowing the dimensions on my residence, I opted to try to ascend as high as I could. My thoughts were that it would be easier to descend if I became exhausted, and I just felt better about trying to go upward rather than down.

Being unable to walk, I chose to scoot myself up the inclined slab of concrete, using my arms and one leg. I travelled upward in this fashion for only a few moments before my head struck the ceiling of my prison, for that is what I had come to think of my current abode.

The ceiling appeared to be made of a less durable material and had some flexibility in response to my probing. In the darkness, I assumed it was wood. This invigorated me. I felt that escape was possible.

The intensity of the storm outside was painful to my ears and it had an odd rhythm that caused a feeling of nausea. It was almost like being on a small boat, even though my prison was not moving.

As my hands explored the surface of the ceiling, I located some strips of cloth and some loose planking that I quickly conscripted into service as a splint for my broken leg. Briefly, I wondered where I learned to splint a broken leg.

Suddenly, the earth shook violently and sound vanished. There was no sound, other than the incessant ringing in my ears. Wondering if I had become deaf, I shouted, Hello. The word echoed in the confines of my prison. Beyond the ceiling above me, it was as if everything ceased to exist. I suddenly became very afraid.

I do not know if I fell asleep or merely became incoherent. Time seemed to have disappeared along with sound. I have no idea how long I huddled next to my ceiling, shaking with cold and fright. The darkness was as absolute as the silence.

Awareness returned to me as I felt a sliver of light burning against my chest. Dumbly, I glanced up and saw a slight crack in my ceiling. Inspired with the hope of escape, I found a piece of wood and attacked the tiny opening before me.

Soon, it was big enough for me to stick my arm through. Pressing my face to the opening, I yelled, Hello. Is anyone out there?

Listening intently, I thought I heard a response. I repeated my call and this time I was positive I heard a response. This caused me to work faster, trying to enlarge the opening.

However, I soon reached a limit to how much I could enlarge the hole with my meager tools. The opening was barely large enough for me to press my face into and steal a glimpse of my world. 

Pressed against this opening, awkwardly balancing on my good leg, I tried to peer about and get a feel for my situation. What little I could see was a plain of destruction and ruin and a distinct ‘oddness’ around me. Did we have an earthquake?

In the distance, I heard others calling out. It seems I was not alone in my plight.

Faced with the realization that I needed a better tool to continue my efforts at escape, I inched downward into the depths of my prison. I assumed the heavier pieces of wood and possibly even metal would have fallen to the floor of my cell, wherever that might be.

With the aid of the slight illumination from the opening I had created, I slid back down the concrete slab, discovering it was roughly eight feet wide and balanced fifty feet above the floor at the highest point, near my opening.

Upon reaching the bottom of the cell, I found that it was twenty feet wide and shaped oddly, as if it happened rather than having been built.

Rubble and debris littered the floor and I quickly found a short metal bar and a sturdy piece of wood I could use as a hammer. Thus armed, I began my ascent to the tiny opening offering escape from my prison.

As I inched my way back up the inclined slab of concrete, I realized I could not remember when I had last eaten. My stomach growled and I began to feel extremely thirsty as well. Why can’t I remember anything?

As if in answer to my unspoken needs, the opening above me blackened and the darkness cracked with a deafening blast of thunder. A virtual torrent of rainwater flowed through my tiny opening, threatening to dislodge me from my perch on the concrete ledge. The water flow had the force of a fire hose.

It was all I could do to secure my tools and try to keep out of the main flow of water. I did manage to steal some handfuls of the water to slake my thirst. After that, I huddled in chilled discomfort, waiting for the storm to pass.

Again, I fear I lost consciousness, for when I opened my eyes, the rain had ceased and darkness had returned. As I listened, I heard water slapping against the walls of my prison. I realized the room had flooded, though I was still above the water level.

Knowing that I could not swim well with a broken leg, I cautiously edged upward to the opening I had created earlier. Placing my face to the opening, I shouted, Is anyone out there?

In the distance, I heard, Yes, but I’m pinned under concrete and need help.

 I’m trying to dig my way out. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

 Ok, the voice responded weakly. There are others up here who are pinned down as well. I can see three from where I am.

I wondered about the proceedings that led to my current predicament. I could not recall anything about the events leading to my present situation. Then I realized I could not recall anything. I had no memory of anything prior to my awakening in the haphazard prison cell.

I worked at the opening quietly as my mind raced, trying to locate a memory somewhere in my consciousness. Suddenly, a distant sound made me pause. I heard the baying of a large number of dogs. As I listened, it sounded like the baying was getting closer. For some reason, that sent a chill of alarm down my spine.

Thinking of that other poor souls, trapped and awaiting succor, I worked faster. For some reason, I felt time might be running out for my trapped neighbors.

I worked furiously, pausing occasionally to listen for the baying dogs. Soon, I had the hole enlarged to the point that I could stick my head out and look around. All I could see were dark shadows cast by the starlit night. There was no moon.

A stealthy sound made me withdraw my head and slide down the concrete slab several inches just as a massive, fanged mouth pushed into the opening. The snarling jaws snapped blindly, searching for soft flesh, just above my face. The foul breath warmed my face.

Sensing prey, the huge beast used its powerful forelegs to dig at the opening to my cell, accomplishing more in a few moments than I had been able to achieve in hours. Left unchecked, the beast would soon join me in my cell, to my discomfort and unwelcome death. I was convinced the animal viewed me as its next meal.

Alarmed at the progress the beast was making at my portal, I realized I needed to defend myself or become a meal. Armed with my sliver of metal and wooden club, I attacked the aggressive animal above me. After repeated blows to its snout, I finally caused it to cry out in pain and withdraw briefly.

Beyond the opening, I heard several of the growling beasts. Occasionally, one lurched forward, only to receive a well-timed blow from my club. I felt I was becoming quite adept with the weapon.

Suddenly, I heard a cry in the distance. Help me! Are you still there?

The beasts above me found this new voice much more interesting than worrying me. I heard them pad away, in search of easier prey. Fearing for the safety of this unknown stranger, I poked my head from the hole and yelled, Be quite. Be still. They are coming to eat you.

 What?

 Shut up.

My warning came too late. I heard a final scream as the beasts attacked my trapped neighbor. Soon, the sounds of feeding animals replaced his screams. Through the night, I heard other screams of fear and agony as the beasts located the other trapped individuals. I knew that eventually, the animals would return for me.

Finally, I realized that the sun was rising and I could see around me. The enlarged hole provided a great amount of light into my cell. The animals had enlarged the hole to the point that I could work my way out, but not without attracting their attention. I heard them feeding nearby. With a broken leg, I knew I could not escape them.

Though I had an avenue of escape, I could not use it. However, I reasoned that if the hole was big enough for me to escape, then the animals could work their way in. Eventually, I would tire and they would overwhelm my defenses. I looked around for a solution to my imminent death.

Finally, I spotted a length of plastic tubing sticking from a wall. I worked the tubing loose while keeping an ear toward the opening above me. To my dismay, I heard the padding of feet as a beast approached my opening.

In desperation, I violently worked the tubing back and forth, causing it to snap and leave me holding a three-foot long piece of plastic tubing.

Without any hesitation, I inched down the inclined concrete slab and deeper into the cold water. With my body fully submerged, I slid over the edge of the slab, holding on to the edge with one hand while holding the plastic tubing to my mouth with the other hand.

I painfully worked my way down until just the tip of the tubing was above the water, allowing me to breathe while fully submerged. I kept my eyes open and soon, I watched as two of the beasts worked their way into my prison.

They searched the slab with eye and nose down to the waterline. I remained motionless under the water, breathing only when necessary, lest the sound of my breath in the tubing catch their attention.

I hoped the animals did not have a sophisticated enough level of visual acuity to allow them to identify me, motionless, beneath three feet of water.

For long moments, they stared down at the water, and glanced around the chamber. Finally, they turned and clawed their way back to the surface.

Unwilling to accept that they had departed; I remained motionless under the water. After a few moments, my caution was rewarded by the slow approach of a shadow inching toward the opening. Soon, a black snout slipped into the opening as the beast lay at the edge, searching the chamber. The canine knew I was still in the chamber.

For long moments, neither of us moved. Then, it jerked its head up and looked away. The shadow disappeared. I waited several minutes before allowing myself to drift to the surface. My leg ached horribly.

Just as my head broke the surface of the water, the light from the opening vanished, replaced by a hundred pounds of snarling appetite. The fact that I was partially submerged saved my life. When the beast hit me, it knocked me backward, away from the ledge.

Using my arms to keep afloat, I worked toward the center of the chamber. The beast swam after me. I took a deep breath and allowed myself to sink deeper into the water.

As I passed below the swimming animal, I grabbed its rear leg, and began forcing our bodies deeper into the water. My efforts and weight pulled the animal under the water where it quickly drowned.

I pushed away from the dead animal and propelled myself to the surface for a fresh breath of air. Almost immediately, a second animal attacked me.

This time, I was not so fortunate, its powerful jaws clamped on my left forearm. I recognized the beast as a pit bull, and knowing I could not break that grip, I took a breath and plunged under the water. My assailant had the choice of drowning or releasing me. It chose to drown.

For a second time, I fought to the surface of the water, this time ensuring that I was well away from the opening.

Treading water in the center of the chamber, I whistled loudly. Another pair of dogs entered the room, snarling at their intended meal. Now experienced at water defense, I had little difficulty dispatching these new attackers.

I tried to lure more of the pack into my chamber, but received no response. I hoped the others had become distracted or wandered away.

Cautiously, I worked my way onto the ledge and began inching toward the opening. I flexed my hand to verify that it still worked in spite of the dog’s attack. The arm hurt, but the hand still functioned.

I retrieved the club and metal rod before easing my head out the opening into the bright sunlight. My eyes struggled with the bright of day, but quickly adapted. I saw no sign of life near me. Encouraged by the lack of assailants, I pulled myself from the dark chamber and into full daylight.

Sitting at the edge of the opening, I looked around and saw a world gone mad. Trees were twisted and torn as if by the hands of the gods. Nothing appeared in an upright condition. From my lofty perch, I could see that even the grass twisted grotesquely.

My prison appeared to have been a three or four story building at one time which had twisted and collapsed upon itself, forming an insane jumble of concrete and steel.

I could not pull a single recollection from my tortured memory. I saw nothing that looked even vaguely familiar. I could not identify the building or my geography.

Remembering my erstwhile neighbor, I began searching.

In short order, I found a stick that helped me walk and soon, I discovered what little was left of that other poor soul. The dogs had made fast and thorough work of him. All that remained was a leg, still pinned under a huge block of concrete. I wondered if any others had survived in this building.

Not wanting to attract canine attention, I opted to do a visual search as I limped across the shattered structure. I paused frequently and called out softly, hoping for a response that I never received.

I found several torn and ravaged remains, but not a single living soul. The dogs had dispatched the survivors with great efficiency. 

Finally giving up hope of finding any survivors, I found myself at the edge of the twisted building. Looking down, I saw the ravaged landscape. Entire fields were shifted and displaced is if by a giant bulldozer. Parts of the land had been stripped bare and piled high elsewhere. In places, there were patches of vegetation that did not look ‘right’.

Exhausted, I sat down and thought about my options. I was almost naked, injured, and near starvation. However, the warm dry air comforted me as I gazed over the tortured landscape.

At the edge of the horizon, I saw a large column of smoke and the remains of a city, obviously twisted and distorted, even from this distance. I judged it to be several miles away.

Looking around, I saw a forest close by on two sides, and a large devastated plain surrounded by distant trees on the other sides. This was the only man-made structure I could actually see in my immediate vicinity.

 What could have done this? I don’t think it was a nuclear event, because I don’t see any signs of a fireball. I should be safe from radiation sickness. All I can think of is that a massive earthquake destroyed the countryside.

How long ago did this all happen? The damage to the plain looks only a few days old.

The events that had reshaped the world appeared to have changed man’s best friend into man’s worst nightmare. I was confident that packs of feral dogs scoured the countryside, looking for anything to eat.

 Speaking of food, I need to find something to eat or I won’t survive another attack. I flexed my left hand, ensuring that it still worked. Finally spotting a piece of cloth fluttering in the wind, I forced myself to my feet and used the cloth to bandage my arm as best I could.

As I ministered to myself, I noticed a blue bar tattooed on the top of my right hand. It was a quarter inch wide and an inch long. It appeared to be fairly old. My left hand was deformed slightly and I did not have full use of it. I found I could not make a tight fist, though I could move my fingers and use the hands fairly well. I wonder how that happened.

Since the dogs had found a way to the top of this structure, I knew there was a way down. I hoped I might find better shelter and possibly food in the rubble below me. I did not want to be stranded on the top of this rubble overnight.

Forcing myself to my feet, I began searching for the path down. It was easy to spot; I just followed the bloody paw prints the dogs left after feeding.

Assessing the path down, I realized that I was weak with hunger and needed food immediately. Not knowing what lay below, I realized I had a source of food available to me on the top of this rubble.

Looking around, I could see the leg under the concrete. Shaking my head, I shrugged and approached the opening to my chamber.

Easing myself back into the chamber and using my walking stick, I teased the body of the pit bull closer to the ledge. Eventually, I could grab the body and pull it from the water.

Even though it was the smallest of the four animals I drowned, its weight proved to be a challenge for my weakened body. By the time I managed to worry the body through the opening to the outside, I was panting with exhaustion, I barely had the strength to pull myself through the opening.

When I regained my breath, I dragged the animal’s body toward the edge, where I could watch for the return of the feral pack.

Finding a piece of glass, I used it as a makeshift knife for butchering the dog. It was clumsy work, but I soon had a flank exposed and began cutting strips of the tough flesh.

I thought about the possibility of cooking the flesh, but had no way to start a fire, even if I could find some dry wood. The torrential rains had soaked all the wood on my unnatural hill.

Shrugging, I put the raw meat in my mouth and began chewing. The meat was tough it did not taste like chicken. Once I got past the thought of eating raw dog, I began to enjoy my meal. 

I continued to slice meat as I ate, producing a pile of meat strips that I placed on the concrete to dry. I hoped it would cure enough to allow me to carry some of the meat with me in future travels.

Working through the afternoon, I salvaged as much meat as possible from the animal and had eaten my fill. I leaned against a short concrete abutment and relaxed in the waning sunlight, gazing over the land below me.

Oddly enough, I saw no flying creatures, not even insects.

Occasionally, a pack of dogs passed in the distance, obviously hunting. I made a point of remaining motionless when I saw the dogs; many dogs have excellent vision and my movements might attract their unwanted attention.

Feeling refreshed, I struggled upright and began exploring my domain. It was an irregular, but mostly almost level concrete surface a hundred feet long by fifty feet wide. I guessed the average height above the ground was thirty feet. There was not much shelter, other than an occasional concrete slab leaning at an angle from the floor.

As I painfully wandered the perimeter, I saw the narrow pass the dogs used to gain access. I also saw a section of chain link fencing that I thought I could use as a barricade to stop the dogs’ future ascents to my home. Fortunately, it was only a short distance from my ruins.

The trip down the narrow gap to the ground below was slow and literally painful. I had to position myself carefully at each stage of the descent to keep weight off my broken leg. I also had to be alert for the possibility of the dogs returning.

Finally reaching the ground, I paused, gathered my bearings and assured myself that there were no predators nearby. Then I hobbled to the fencing I had seen from above.

The trip proved