Birth Of The Goud Resistance: End of Days Chronicles, #1

By David Burns

The first book in the series 'End of Days Chronicles' with approximately 129,910 words. This is the beginning of the end for sentient life on planet Earth unless it fights and wins the battle for survival. Samael is a Clairvoyant, Psychic, Spiritualist, and Carnival owner, but he's much more than just that! Having orchestrated the rise and fall of species on planet Earth previous to Homo-Sapiens and being a lifeform known as Goud make him unique. Six people who possess a gift of value to Samael become aware of their destinies having been manipulated to make a life-changing decision. Will they make the right choice and agree to Samael's proposal, then will they lead the fight against the Spore's harvest of planet Earth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Burns
• Release date: May 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201647377

David Burns

David Burns lives in a beautiful part of the world called Northern Ireland in a quiet suburban district on the outskirts of Belfast. He spent his entire career in the Electrical Contracting Industry and retired as a Senior Electrical Engineer in recent years. Aged fifty-two, he now enjoys various hobbies including story writing, digital sculpting, and walking. Married for almost thirty years to his loving wife Annette, he says she deserves a long service medal for being so tolerant of him. David is a family man and his son Timothy and Daughter Danielle are the light and joy of his life. The animal menagerie he keeps as family pets provides the color in his life.

Book preview

Prologue.

Samael clawed his way up the narrow volcanic vent leading from the deep underground cave system. His host's bleeding and battered body screamed for him to stop, but he sensed planet Earth was close to its demise from the changing energies around him. Small pieces of loose rock embedded deep into his flesh as he wriggled and squirmed over the sharp volcanic rock surface. His human host was verging on total exhaustion, and his body's internal organs were close to failure. Even with the recuperative healing powers of hosting a Goud, Samael knew Robert, his human host, was on borrowed time.

High up on Erbus peak, the narrow volcanic vent widened to form a shallow cave overlooking Strangefell Lough. Samael felt Robert's breathing start to become laboured as he slumped against the smooth weather-beaten surface of the cave's wall. He inhaled the warm night air deep into Robert's lungs to help ease his host's growing discomfort.

Am I dying? Robert mumbled softly.

Samael's familiar, softly spoken voice filled Robert's mind, Yes, my old friend, I am afraid you are dying.

Robert coughed to clear his lungs and was greeted by the metallic taste of blood for his effort. How long do I have? he asked before choking.

Shusssssh, rest and save your energy, Samael replied quietly.

Will it be painful? Robert pressed gently.

No, my friend, I will not let you suffer, he whispered. Samael felt Robert’s heartbeat begin to weaken, so he drew energy from the ambient heat of the cave to bolster its rhythm.

The sudden drop in air temperature and adrenalin rush caused Robert's body to shiver.

Sorry, Samael apologised softly.

Robert chuckled, We put up a good fight, didn’t we?

Samael turned Robert's gaze to look at the view of the burning towns and villages of Strangefell County. Burning ambers drifted up into the waning night sky, carrying the sounds of sporadic skirmishes and mournful cries.

Samael chuckled, Yes, we did. My friend Spore will remember this reality because of it. Perhaps the next reality will bring us victory.

Robert choked on the blood gathering at the back of his throat. He coughed and then spat out what he could to clear his airway. Can I see you as you truly are, he spluttered.

Hundreds of Spore mother ships hung motionless in the sky as thousands of smaller drop ships rained downward from each of them. Above the spacecraft, high up in the atmosphere, white vapour trails formed a lacework tapestry against the inky sky. Then, far off in the distance, a light flared in the darkness like the first rays of morning sunlight breaking over the horizon, and Samael knew the end was coming. Yes, it would be an honour to show you my true form, my friend, Samael replied.

Robert squinted against the glare of light from the white ball of energy as it emerged from his chest. The light felt comforting and calming, and it made him feel safe. He smiled as he stared into the depths of its light, It's beautiful. You're beautiful!

Samael watched the last flicker of life extinguish in Robert’s eyes and his smile fade. Goodbye, my friend, until we meet in the next reality, he whispered. Samael remained silent for a few moments while he thought of his departed friend, and then thoughts began to drift. Homo-sapiens are the most resilient and determined species so far when it comes to a fight for survival. Perhaps they will stand a better chance than the others who came before them. He pondered.

Rapid successions of blinding light flared, pulling his attention away from Robert. Humans would rather die fighting than be repurposed or recycled by their adversary. I will have to consider that in the next reality. He concluded.

The destructive forces of Earth's unleashed nuclear arsenal ripped and tore at Samael, reminding him of his birthplace within the Rift. The explosive atomic forces and the collapsing fabric of reality began to rush inwards to form a singularity. Samael whooped with delight as he was mixed and churned within the primordial energies. His moment of anticipation was almost too much to endure as he waited for the singularity to reverberate outwards. He screamed with joy as the point of singularity exploded outwards, hurling him on a white-knuckle ride through the Rift's foaming endless sea of realities.

As Samael's essence reformed, his thoughts refocused. Now that is a rush everyone should experience! It is a shame I cannot spend more time in the Rift, but it is a burden a Goud like me must bear. Still, not many stable realities are left to explore. Perhaps a change in tactics and a new approach will yield the results the Omni-collective are so keen for me to achieve, and then I can return to the Rift. Of course, Spore will also be learning from these skirmishes. However, this is my backyard, and I have the advantage of local knowledge. Let us see how their technological reliance on navigating realities stacks up against my natural-born attributes. And let us see how they perform when I have allies to even the numbers up. I will not be alone in my fight against Spore, and I will defeat them this time. All I must do is choose the most suitable and stable reality for my plan, and then we will see who will be victorious.

Chapter 1...Chad...Time For The Truth.

Do the President and his staff have any inkling about my true purpose and vocation, and if they did, how would they react? Chad pondered. The manicured lawns of the Whitehouse looked incredibly pristine, with the early morning sunlight glinting off the heavy covering of dew. Not even the President knows. That thought made him chuckle. The ringing sound of his secure satellite telephone handset broke his moment of contemplation.

Hello, Chad Lacey speaking, he answered confidently.

Chad, it's Sharif. We have a problem, the middle eastern voice declared.

He shifted forward in his leather armchair, bringing him to sit bolt upright, Sharif, what's brewing, buddy?

Shalom, Chad. The World Space Agency’s Early Warning Threat Detection System just relayed an alert.

Chad frowned, Comet or meteorite?

There was silence for a few moments before Sharif replied, Neither, my friend!

Chad chuckled and then stopped when he realised Sharif had remained silent, If it's not a comet or meteorite, then what is it, little green men? Chad shifted his weight in his armchair as the silence on the telephone stretched onward. Sharif, you can't be serious? he said quietly.

Sharif cleared his throat before speaking, Deadly serious, my friend. Pluto’s Orbital Observational Relay Station has returned images of three extraterrestrial spacecraft.

Chad pulled his armchair closer to his crescent-shaped oak desk, Do you think it will happen?

Sharif's facial stubble rubbed against his phone's mouthpiece as he spoke, Yes, I do, my friend!

The grating sound caused Chad to flinch momentarily away from his phone's earpiece. I suppose deep down, we both knew this day would come. I mean, the guy has proven himself reliable time and again, Chad mused aloud.

Has he been in contact with you lately? Sharif asked.

Chad shook his head, Not with me, and you?

Sharif sighed, No, my friend, it has been five years since he last visited me and nothing since.

Sharif, this has to be it, doesn’t it?

My friend, I think it does, Sharif said quietly.

Both men remained silent for a few moments as the implications of their discussion hit home.

Chad was first to break the tense silence, How long do I have before this is reported?

Sharif sighed, I can scramble the images, which will buy us some time. But, based on the spacecraft's current speed, we have twelve hours before the next  Relay Station's warning system is triggered, and its images are transmitted.

Chad gulped, Damn, Sharif, I need more time if I’m to manage this the way I’m supposed to!

If I get creative with interpreting the data, I can possibly engineer another twelve hours maximum, Sharif replied hesitantly.

Chad sighed, Get creative. I need as much time as possible to organise and get the wheels of bureaucracy rolling.

I will. You can count on me to delay the truth going public. Sharif paused a few moments before continuing, My friend, may God be with you.

And you, buddy, Chad replied before Sharif ended the call. He eased the telephone handset into the satellite phone's large cradle, and then he sank back into the comfort of his armchair.

The beautiful view from his office was lost to his gaze as he stared blankly across the gardens and lawns. So, this was really going to happen then? He pondered. He slid his hand into the inside breast pocket of his Armani suit jacket and retrieved the small envelope it held. Chad removed the envelope's playing card and set it on his desk. So, it was no coincidence the card arrived yesterday. He thought. His heartbeat quickened as he inspected the signature scrawled across the face of the playing card. The signature is definitely mine and there's no mistaking! He concluded.

Chad rose from his leather armchair, and then he walked across the deep pile carpet to the coffee station in the corner of his office. The rich aroma of coffee wafted around his office as he prepared himself a large mug of strong coffee. Would the President believe him and take the course of action that needed to be taken? He considered while sipping his coffee. Chad meandered around his office deep in thought and eventually found himself standing at the window of his coveted view of the Whitehouse Gardens. I've come so far since my childhood, Director of Homeland security, American Director of Operations for British Intelligence Gathering Service, and a member of the legendary Majestic Twelve. He marvelled while sipping his coffee. But there was always a price to be paid for success, and soon I'll have to settle my debt. He sombrely reasoned.

He savoured the rich blend and aroma of his mouthful of coffee before swallowing the sweet milky liquid. Still, I've made the best deal possible. My family are all wealthy and successful, which puts them in good stead to survive what's coming. Could I have cut a different or better deal? It doesn't matter because the cost would still have been the same. Samael upheld his part of the agreement, and now it's my turn. He mused.

Chad sipped his coffee as he strolled back to his desk. This is a conversation I’m not looking forward to. He thought as he lifted the telephone handset to his ear. He pressed the button connecting him directly to the President's office and waited.

There was silence for a few moments before the phone was answered, Howdy?

Chad steadied his nerve before speaking, Chad Lacey, Mr President, we need to talk, Sir!

I take it you can’t wait if you’re calling me on this line, Chad? the Texan voice asked.

No, Sir, it can't wait! Chad replied.

The President sighed, Ok, come on up, and I'll clear a few moments for you.

Mr President, you'll not be needing your dairy for a very long time! Chad replied curtly.

The President whistled softly, That bad?

Chad gulped, Yes, Sir, that bad!

Ok, give me an hour to cancel what I’ve got planned and then you’d better come up, he replied gruffly before ending the telephone call.

Chad fidgeted with the bulky signet ring on his finger he’d retrieved from his office safe, Good morning, Dorothy, he’s expecting me!

Dorothy, the President's secretary, glared over the top of her reading glasses toward Chad, So I've been told!

He could see from the disgruntled expression she was displeased, A lot on, Dorothy?

I've a lot more to do now, considering I've got to rearrange all of his appointments for today, she replied with a tight smile.

Chad smiled apologetically, I'll suggest a pay raise for you when I'm speaking to him if that'll smooth things over between us?

Her expression softened, We're fine. Ignore me. I haven't had enough coffee yet, that's all.

Chad clutched the handle of his metal briefcase firmly as he approached the large panel door leading to the President’s office.

You can tell him the Russians and Chinese offer better packages for their staff, she jibed.

Chad sniggered as he knocked on the panel door.

Come on in! The Texan voice called from the other side of the door.

He smirked at Dorothy as he shook his head. I’m not that brave, he mouthed quietly just before he opened the door into the President’s office.

Well, Chad, come in and take the weight of your legs, son! Bill and Albert's phone calls came hot on the heels of yours.

Chad was solemn-faced as he crossed the expanse of the Oval Office. The room smelt of cigar smoke and coffee, but the heady fragrance of furniture polish partially masked the stale odours. He shook the President’s outstretched hand, Thank you for your time, Mr President!

Son, call me Jack. No need for formalities when it's only us, he motioned with his hand for Chad to be seated on one of two very plush sofas. Bill and Albert tell me something is brewing, something that's got people jittery. Son, I assume you will enlighten me, he said with a broad smile.

Chad sat down, and then he placed his metal briefcase on the large oval coffee table between him and the President. He knew Bill Lamont, head of the FBI and Albert Boulenger head of the CIA, would suspect something was brewing, but he was confident they didn't know exactly what. So, Bill and Albert called soon after I called? he queried.

Jack eyed the battered metal briefcase with curiosity as he sat down on the opposing plush sofa, Yep, one after another. They seemed anxious, but they had no details for me. Seemed to think you would, though.

Chad loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

Jack watched him intently, This is looking serious. Son, it looks as though you're preparing for a long slog.

A flicker of a smile broke Chad's glum expression, Sorry, Mr President, just trying to think of how I start this conversation. I've had a long time to prepare for this moment, and now I'm not so sure.

Jack wriggled on his sofa to find comfort, Son, I find it's best to spit it out. How about you start with why my intelligence services are so anxious about what you have to tell me.

Chad took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. He smiled, Sounds like good advice!

Jack nodded in agreement and returned his smile.

Former President Ronald Reagan said it best in his speech at the 1987 United Nations General Assembly. He posed the question of how quickly the nations of planet Earth would set aside their differences if they faced an extraterrestrial threat. Chad paused, and when he spoke, his tone was sombre, Mr President, that time has come.

Jack frowned, What in God's name are you talking about?

I'm saying that very shortly, the people of planet Earth will face the biggest threat of extinction they've ever faced. Extraterrestrial spacecrafts are currently on a flight path from the outer edge of our solar system, and they are heading toward Earth. Their objective is to harvest planet Earth's resources, and humans are but one of those sought-after resources, Chad explained.

Jack's frown deepened, Son, if this is some kind of prank, I'll have your resignation for this! He sat forward on the sofa, You expect me to believe this crock of shit. Am I to believe my intelligence agencies know nothing of this, yet you do? He began easing himself up from the sofa, Little green men coming to take over the world, and you have exclusive intel, bull shit, that's what it is, bull shit!

Chad quickly retrieved something from the inside breast pocket of his jacket, and then he laid it on the coffee table in front of the President.

Jack hesitated from fully rising from the sofa when he saw the ornate gold and silver badge Chad had set on the table. Jack's gaze darted from the badge to meet Chad's gaze, Son, where did you get that?

Chad smiled apologetically, It's mine, Mr President. I'm the Grandmaster of the BIGS organisation in America.

Jack lowered himself slowly onto the sofa. Then, tentatively, he lifted the badge from the table to examine it.

Chad loosened his tie further, Bill and Albert know. But, of course, working in the intelligence sector means they also know some of what I'm telling you now. If they didn't, I'd be disappointed in their abilities. I know what I'm telling you sounds crazy, but you have to believe me when I say it's the truth!

Jack's gaze remained fixed on the badge, Son, carry on, you have my attention!

Chad sat forward to reach the battered metal briefcase sitting on the table, Why did you go into politics, Mr President?

Jack smiled as he fiddled with the badge, and he recalled memories from his youth, Oh, that's simple. It was my old man. He banged on and on about me being President one day, but as a child, all I ever wanted to be was a fireman.

Chad clicked the buttons on the briefcase to release its clasp locks, Doesn’t this look familiar?

Jack focused on the battered briefcase, Yeah, looks familiar, but I can't think why.

Chad flipped the briefcase lid open, and then he turned it around so the President could see inside the briefcase, Does this help jog your memory?

Tears welled up in Jack's eyes as his gaze soaked in the detail of the child's drawing taped to the inside of the briefcase lid, How in the hell did you get that?

The child's drawing depicted a mother, father and boy sheltering under a tree from the rays of an enormous sun. And they were stood in front of the Whitehouse. A single word was written in neat capital letters on the bottom right-hand corner of the drawing. It read 'JACK'.

The realisation of why the briefcase looked familiar suddenly occurred to Jack, It's my old man's briefcase, and that's the drawing I made for him when I was in Kindergarten. He tore his gaze from the briefcase to Chad, How did you obtain these objects and why are you showing them to me now?

Chad placed the playing card with his signature on it in front of Jack, Did your father have a playing card like this?

After a few moments of scrutinising the card from where he sat, Jack shrugged his shoulders, Can't say for certain. Why?

If I was a gambling man, I would bet your father had a card just like this. I would bet he signed a similar card to seal an agreement he made, he said with a broad smile.

Jack studied Chad’s expression, Son, you’ve lost me.

Chad chuckled. I believe your father entered into an agreement with the same individual as I have to ensure you'd be President of the United States of America one day.

Jack laughed at the absurdity of what he was hearing until he suddenly realised Chad was being sincere, Son, I think you've been out in the sun too long.

Chad shook his head, Let me guess, you never wanted to go into politics, but your father pushed you into it. Everything fell into place and came easy if you strived for what your father wanted for you. And when you strayed from that path, something always happened to bring you back to a career in politics. Opportunities given to you were unprecedented, and your political success fast-tracked you through the echelons of government. I bet you won every election you've fought by substantial margins. How am I doing?

The ashen colour of the President's face and his scowling expression suggested to Chad he'd hit the mark with what he'd said.

You see, Mr President, I made a similar agreement with the same individual as your father. But, unfortunately, everything he predicted to happen is now happening, and it doesn't bode well for any of us.

Individual! Who is this person? Jack blustered.

Chad smirked, Not who, but what!

Jack sighed as he shook his head, Son, nobody can control fate or destiny.

Chad stood up and motioned with his hand towards the Presidential desk, Mr President, may I examine the Resolute Desk?

Jack's scowling expression deepened, Hell son, why not, carry on! Bemused, he watched as  Chad examined the ornately carved decorative panels of the desk. Built from the oak timbers of HMS Resolute and crafted by master tradesmen, it's beautiful. You don't get craftsmanship like this anymore, Chad muttered while scrutinising the carvings.

After a few moments, the President crossed his arms, Son, I'm beginning to lose patients. What the hell are you doing?

Sorry, Mr President, I'm looking for, ah-ha! Chad hurriedly removed the bulky signet ring from his finger. The ring's raised embossed face was diamond-shaped and bore a protruding symbol of the Cross Formée Patée. I'll explain in a minute, Mr President, he called out from the footwell of the desk. Chad slotted the face of the ring into a matching negatively shaped carving of the ring's face on one of the panels. He grunted as he pushed with all the force he could muster against the ring. Suddenly, the ring moved deeper into its impression on the wooden panel, 'CLICK'. He smiled with relief when he saw the join of the secret compartment's opening.

Jack heard the noise and quickly stood to see what Chad was doing. Son, I hope you're not damaging a part of this great nation's heritage? he called out to Chad.

Chad brushed his hand over the legs of his trousers as he stood up from under the desk.

Jack’s gaze locked on the vanilla colour envelope Chad was now clasping in his other hand, What in the world have you got there, son?

Something to help you, I hope, Chad said as he hurried towards Jack. He handed the envelope to Jack and indicated for him to be seated, Please read this.

Jack examined the envelope. It’s coloured with age, and it’s been sealed with wax using a Presidential seal. He concluded.

Go on, open it. It's for you, Chad encouraged.

Carefully, Jack broke the wax seal, and he removed several pages of a letter the envelope contained.

Chad paced back and forth as he watched Jack reading.

A few minutes passed, and when he’d finished reading, he stared at Chad, Son, is this real?

Chad grinned, Yes, it's real. President Harry S. Truman issued this Presidential Executive Order himself.

Jack shook his head, Why have I never seen this?

Since Harry S. Truman, no president has set eyes on this, he said softly.

Jack cocked his head to the side and looked at Chad, Then why are you showing it to me now?

Credibility! Chad returned to the sofa opposite Jack. The Majestic Twelve was formed under this Presidential Executive Order to facilitate the recovery and investigation of alien spacecraft. As the Grandmaster of the BIGS organisation in America, my predecessor asked me to become a member of MJ-12. I need you to believe what I have to tell you, and I'm hoping my credentials persuade you I'm telling the truth.

Jack set the letter onto the coffee table, and for a few moments, he studied Chad. Then he eased himself back into the comfort of the sofa and crossed his arms, Son, I'm still listening. Carry on.

Chad breathed a sigh of relief as he settled deeper into the soft sofa. "Twenty-five years ago, I should have died, but I didn't, and that wasn't anything to do with luck. I was a rookie CIA operative working with a team in Afghanistan. The team's mission was to disrupt the flow of drugs crossing Afghanistan's borders. The idea was to use the disruption as leverage when manipulating the various warlords and factions involved.

Our success was short-lived. Surrounded by the dead bodies of my team and badly injured myself, I lay on a remote hillside praying for help to come, but it didn't. Eventually, the warlord's militia came searching for their drugs and missing comrades. Instead, they found dead comrades, drugs, and me. I was dragged across mountain ranges for days with little food and water. Finally, several days of walking brought us to an isolated mountain village where the militia decided to hold up for a while.

Physically and mentally, I was broken, so much so I'd given up hope of living. I concluded it would be better to die quickly, so I decided I would goad my captors into killing me. My plan worked, and I found my captors easy to rile. They quickly got bored of beating me and decided it was time to slit my throat. I was dragged on my knees out of my makeshift prison and onto the village's main street. The militia forced the villagers out of their homes to watch the spectacle of my death. Oddly I felt happy I would die because I knew my suffering was about to end. I steadied my nerve as my executioner waved his knife theatrically for all to see, and that’s when I spotted Samael!"

Jack’s eyebrows arched, Samael?

Chad nodded, Yes, the entity I made an agreement with and the one I suspect your father also made an agreement with.

Son, why do you insist my father knew this Samael? Jack asked curtly.

Chad smiled, Because Samael gave me your father's briefcase.

Jack looked uncertain, but he nodded, Ok, plausible, carry on.

Good, the President is still willing to listen to me. He thought. Chad grinned, "Dressed as if he was playing a round of golf, an elderly gentleman strolled into the village. He walked as if he didn't have a care in the world. The villagers were spooked more by his presence than they feared the wrath of the militia, and they scampered back to the safety of their homes.

The militia seemed stunned into inaction by the appearance of a gaudily dressed elderly man out for a stroll in the remote mountains of Afghanistan. They watched him walk the length of the village street until he stood directly in front of my executioner. Samael and my executioner conversed in Dari for a few minutes, and as they did, the other members of the militia gathered around us to hear what was being said. Finally, Samael must have said something the militia didn't like because, in unison, they pointed their guns at him in readiness to open fire.

I remember his eyes. His eyes morphed into black pools of darkness, and instantly the militiamen dropped dead where they stood. I've never seen anything like that happen before or since."

Son, you're telling me this person killed the militia without weapons? Jack scoffed.

Chad nodded his head, Yes, Mr President. That's when I realised Samael wasn't human. Unarmed and without moving, Samael killed those men!

Jack scowled, Really?

Yes, Sir. He looked elderly, but he lifted me in his arms and then carried me out of the village. He carried me for hours across rough mountainous terrain, and he didn't break a sweat or get out of breath.

So, he was fit! Jack jibed.

"No, it was more than mere fitness. As Samael carried me, we talked. He asked me why I was so keen to die when he could offer me a long and prosperous life. I thought he was barking mad. I mean, nobody can provide that, right?

He explained he was a form of an entity called Goud, and they came from another dimensional plane of existence. He told me the elderly gentleman I was communicating with was his host. Samael also explained about other species of sentient beings and how they flourished on planet Earth before homo-sapiens. He then informed me of the extraterrestrial threat called Spore that almost wiped out each successive race of sentient beings.

Spore! Are we to face the same threat? Jack asked.

Yes, Mr President, we are! Samael explained various events that would take place leading up to the arrival of the Spore.

Jack frowned, And those events have taken place?

Chad nodded, Yes, Mr President. Samael asked me if I was willing to consider postponing my death in return for a prosperous life. Chad reached forward to the coffee table, and he retrieved the signed playing card, "I signed this playing card as a commitment to an agreement I entered into with Samael. Shortly afterwards, I passed out.

I awaken to find myself in a Washington Hospital treated by medical staff. Nobody could tell me how I came to be there, and after my recovery, a CIA investigation failed to come up with any plausible answers. I put the whole experience down to psychosis being brought on by trauma. However, my life quickly changed after my recuperation. I was medically retired as a CIA operative. But, in a strange twist of events, I was hired to be a personal assistant to a retiring CIA Director who decided politics was his next career choice.

My own career blossomed, and golden opportunities were handed to me by the bucket load. I became a very successful State Governor, and my lifestyle was very prosperous. Yet, I always had a niggling doubt about the legitimacy of my psychosis. Chad held the playing card up so Jack could see it clearly, Every time I had a doubt, this would turn up. I've destroyed and disposed of this damn thing more times than I care to remember, but each time, when I doubt, this playing card appears!"

What did you agree to do? Jack queried.

Chad smiled, Mr President, I agreed to help humanity’s chance of survival.

I see! Jack replied curtly.

Unprecedented opportunities were given to me, and I took every one of them. It was as if I had the Midas touch when it came to climbing the echelons of government. Mr President, does that sound familiar? he asked softly.

Jack squirmed in his seat, Sounds familiar, yes.

All of the events Samael predicted would take place in the lead up to the arrival of the Spore have taken place. I can also confirm the World Space Agency has detected three extraterrestrial spacecraft on a trajectory for planet Earth. So I urge you to believe me when I say the nations of this world need to mobilise and prepare for a fight for survival!

Jack studied Chad's expression for a few moments, and then his gaze drifted over the artefacts strewn on the coffee table.

Chad remained silent while he watched Jack lost in thought. Then, after a few minutes, curiosity got the better of him, Mr President?

Jack’s gaze locked on Chad, Son, you’d better prepare the Situation Room for a long hard slog!

Chapter 2...Elizabeth...Finding Stephaven.

Liz switched the car's radio off, Come on, Dennis, we are lost. Just admit it!

Liz, we're not lost. It's the bloody SatNav that's lost! Anyway, why are you complaining? I'd have thought you'd remember the way. After all, you were the one who spent their teenage years holidaying in Stephaven.

Liz sniggered, Exactly, I was a teenager, which meant I never drove to Stephaven. Instead, I was usually zoned out in the back of the car with my headphones on while dad drove.

The Volvo SUV crunched through the thick blanketing snow covering the narrow hedge-lined road. In the heat and comfort of the Volvo's plush leather interior, Dennis and Liz felt like intrepid armchair explorers.

Sod global warming, this freaky weather is becoming more unpredictable! Dennis gazed over the craggy snow-covered landscape, Liz, is this rural enough for you? Dennis asked sarcastically. Stephaven doesn't even show up on SatNav, and all the bloody signposts lead you around in circles. Perhaps it only exists in the Twilight Zone? he added.

Liz punched his arm playfully, It's perfect. So we'll never have to think about the stress of city life ever again if we do this? If we can't find Stephaven, the rat race won't find us.

How are we for time? The estate agent won't hang about in this weather for long, Dennis said while rubbing his arm over dramatically.

Liz laughed, Stop it, it wasn't that hard! We're fine for the time. As long as we find the village in the next hour or two, we'll be OK. The estate agent lives beside the property we're viewing. It's his brother's house, and he's selling it for him. The agent said to call at the Rectory between two and five o'clock, so we've got a good bit of leeway when it comes to time.

The Volvo slowly rolled to a stop at the junction. Oh, look, Dennis, it's your favourite crossroads! I now name these crossroads Déjà vu.

Ha-ha-very funny! Déjà vu, more like Stephaven's bloody own Bermuda Triangle, Dennis jested.

She caressed the spot on his arm where she'd punched, Well, at least we've only one option now. Turn left?

Left it is then, he replied.

The country road rose steeply as it snaked through jutting mountains and misty patches of woodland.

The Volvo's onboard computer broke the growing silence in the SUV, Warning! Care should be taken outside temperature, zero degrees Celsius, and the possibility of black ice.

Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. We should turn around and go back home. We can always rearrange the viewing for another day, Liz suggested.

The SUV's Off-Road Traction Control pinged, indicating it had been automatically switched on.

That sounds like a good idea, Liz. Because even the SatNav is lost without a signal in this terrain. So the next opportunity we get to turn around, I'll take it.

They drove for several miles, but the narrow high banked road offered no opportunity to turn around.

As they came over the brow of a steep hill, Dennis pressed the SUV's brakes hard. The Volvo's ABS system brought it to a juddering stop inches from the back of a rickety old tractor sat in the middle of the road.

Dennis glared at Liz, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL? he exclaimed loudly.

The tractor rattled violently as its engine spluttered into life, causing it to cough black smoke out of its rusty exhaust.

Liz stared at the frost-covered window of the tractor's cab. Ah, she cried, taken by surprise.

A large hand rubbed at the tractor's frosted window, and then a weather-beaten face peered through the patch it had cleared. 

Dennis grasped Liz's hand to reassure her, Hey, it's OK! At least we can ask for directions, right?

The tractor's cab door swung open and slammed against its side with a thud. A barrel-shaped man wrapped in a long tweed trench coat eased himself out and climbed down using the tractor's footholds.

Dennis lowered the SUV’s window as the man plodded around the tractor and through the snow toward him.

The man leaned against Dennis's door to catch his breath.

Dennis glared at him, What the bloody hell do you think you were doing parking your tractor in the middle of the road? Coming over the hill, I couldn't see you sitting there. I could've crashed into you, for God's sake!

The man lowered his head so he was face to face with Dennis, and then he pushed what was left of his once thick mop of blond hair away from his face with a shovel-like hand, Sorry about that, but there's no good place to stop on this road. I don't mind if you put a dent or two in old faithful.

Can you tell us the way to Stephaven? Liz quickly asked in an attempt to diffuse any possible confrontation.

The man’s light blue eyes locked onto Liz, Hello Miss, I can do better than that if you’re the young couple come to view the Rectory?

Dennis and Liz exchanged looks of bewilderment.

The man's jowls wobbled as he chuckled, I take it you are then? I’m Thomas, Jude’s cousin. He asked me to show you the way to the village cause it can be a bit hard to find.

Bloody impossible, Dennis muttered quietly to Liz.

Thomas continued, The road to the village is a bit tricky, though. I've been clearing the landslide all day. Best you stick close to me, and if you get stuck, old faithful will pull you out. Thomas didn't wait for a reply or any further discussion. Instead, he shuffled back through the snow and then clambered into the tractor's cab.

I take it Jude is the estate agent we're meeting? Dennis asked.

Liz nodded.

And I take it you want me to follow this abominable snow idiot? he queried.

Liz smirked, We are lost, and he knows the way!

The SUV crawled along behind the lumbering tractor until they reached a junction in the road.

Bloody hell, where did all this come from! Exclaimed Dennis as they turned into a dirt track of a lane.

On either side, a mix of snow, mud, and large boulders heaped as high as the tractor's roof made the lane feel claustrophobic and oppressive.

Thomas said it was a landslide, Liz offered.

Yeah, I heard him. But we're on top of a mountain, and we're at the highest point. So where did this all slide from?

Liz shrugged, I don't know, but I'll be glad to reach the village when we do.

Chapter 3...Elizabeth...Rectory Viewing

Nestled in a steep -sided valley, Stephaven looked like a picture-perfect postcard scene. Orderly rows of buildings lined narrow streets. Their black stone and red brick construction stood out in stark contrast against the blanketing white snow. 

Oh look, Dennis, look how beautiful the village is! exclaimed Liz as they pulled up in their SUV outside the Rectory. 

Thomas blared the tractor's nasally sounding horn, and then he waved farewell before setting off down the village's main street.

Wow, it certainly is! replied Dennis as he took in the house’s setting and splendour.

The Rectory's studded oak door opened, and a tall, well-dressed gentleman stepped out into the branch covered porch. He waved, beckoning Dennis and Liz to come into the house.

Eek! Liz squealed with excitement, This is it, Dennis, I know it is. I can just feel it!

Well now, hold on, Liz, don't get ahead of yourself. We haven't even seen inside yet. The asking price is at the upper limit of what we can afford, Dennis cautioned.

Liz fixed him with