Clarity's Doom (Ancient Origins Book 1) (6 page)

“This isn’t Earth is it?”

“No. Not your Earth, this planet is my Earth.”

“How do you even know what Earth is? What do you mean
your
Earth?” He didn’t by any means look stupid but his primitive weapons suggested the lack of space flight.

“Others come. Like you. Through holes.”

Clarity rose to her knees. “You mean there are others from an Earth like mine here, now?”

“They leave.”

It was the way his gaze shifted, the sudden tension in his shoulders. He was lying or omitting a part of the truth. Doom looked human, but there was something more.

“What is this place, this planet?”

“Your planet and this one are similar I’ve learned, except we never experienced an ice age. Or a meteor never landed. Your kind speculates what Earth might look like today if those things never occurred. We, my people and I, live it.”

Clarity’s mind was in a somersault. Languages developed over time, why not here? Of course speech would find a way, people needed to communicate. She urged Doom to continue.

“Your Earth is a tumultuous planet of natural and manmade disasters I’m told by some. We have no climate issues. No global warming. I’ve never in my life felt our planet shake except in a certain place, but it’s a natural occurrence. I’ve traveled far across the globe and have never seen a mountain filled with burning liquid. Our ocean waves behave. We experience all four seasons, and all four are extreme but many creatures migrate. Many creatures on this planet are dangerous. Many mammals. Many of the beasts are dinosaurs, many different breeds.”

“Dinosaurs,” she whispered and wondered how many he was talking about and what kind. The single word dinosaur was a broad scope. Her heart began to pound. “There were dinosaurs walking erect, like a human but strange. They sounded like they were calling me. Whistles, hand gestures were used.”

“Neandersauri. Long ago the different species on this planet fought for dominance. Including humanoid types. From evolution each humanoid form fought for supremacy, evolving, changing to survive. A walking relative to my people were Neanderthals. Our cousins were larger boned, bigger everywhere. There were certain dinosaurs that continued to evolve. They were thinking creatures. Their brains were larger, smart. Somehow they evolved and created man-dinosaur hybrids. Accident or not the changes gave them an edge and they began to evolve faster.

“A species that can manipulate its bones—the ones appearing on its outward skeletal structure and the one within—by dislocating the outer bones when necessary. It gives the hybrid advantages: making weapons, fire, cooking, the sheer strength and muscle mass in battle. Its outer structure keeps the internal one safe. The hybrid species almost destroyed my people. They don’t like the mixture of them and us, and will not breed with us, nor us with them, it would be impossible. They are as smart, but stronger. At one time, their goal was to annihilate my people. If we are gone, they rule the planet. They almost succeeded. I’m surprised they tried to interact with you. Normally they leave humans alone until…. Well normally, they leave humans alone.”

“Do you communicate with them?”

“Their leader, he calls himself DaV-nin, leads all of his kind.” Clarity shuddered at the name, his tone was guttural, animalistic, almost a growl. Clarity could understand a Neanderthal being named but a dinosaur with a name, calling itself by name, was unconventional and too strange.

“DaV-nin,” she whispered.

“DaV-nin,” he repeated, rolling the words in a growl. “Their number is many and growing. Far outnumbering my own kind. We understand each other well enough. They use little words, mostly whistles and hand gestures, grunts and growls. They adapt to any weather, heat, cold, rain. And they make use of skins and furs as do my people. I’m uncertain where they live, or what their home structures are, but I think they dwell deep within caves. Dinosaur and man. When they need to they switch to the use of the bones which will aid their environment necessities best.”

“So they wear clothes. Like the Neanderthal their flat nose and added mucus warms cold air, so maybe they don’t migrate. The feather fur is a bit of a surprise, must be the dinosaur aspect. They think, problem solve. Brilliant, really.” Clarity sat pondering; the scientist in her couldn’t help but be impressed.

“Deadly, more so.” His tone again suggested an evasion of truths. He turned and sat beside her as the torrential rains rose from beyond the stone opening.

“Why does it rain up?” Clarity asked.

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“The clouds release the rain.”

“Yes, so does the ground.”

“That is the most extreme sense of evaporation I’ve ever witnessed. So, do I just wait for a sinkhole to come pick me up?”

He cast her a fast glance before looking away. “No, you will come with me. I’ve explained the hybrids to you for a reason. This planet is dangerous to those who don’t know it. You are safe with me and my people. There are few rules. You will be happy. We have simple lives, no currency. We trade expertise. It takes about a year before you will be welcomed home.”

Clarity groaned. A year to be here, a year to go home and die, that had to be why the scientists found the bodies. Or had she already traveled a year? There would be no way this man could know to return was certain death. What would be worse, here or dead? Maybe not all died on re-entry, maybe. Living with dinosaurs on a strange planet wasn’t on her bucket list—at twenty-eight she didn’t have a bucket list.

Crap.

“I can’t stay a year. I have no clue how to survive here. I have no home or job. If your kind has no currency, I have nothing to trade.” She was mortified; she couldn’t keep the wail from her tone. The three hundred and ten dollars and eighty-five cents in her wallet was useless. The same with her credit and debit cards. All she had was her purse and the ripped and stained clothing on her back.

Doom reached to clutch her hand. His features tightened. “There is no one better than me to take care of you during your time here. Entrust your life to me. I promise to keep you safe.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I will.”

****

Doom meant what he said to the human female.
Clarity, her name is Clarity. What a beautiful name.
There was nothing more precious than her life to him. Her life meant the salvation of one of his people, his family. Doom’s family survived for decades together; there was no one more important than the people he cared for. For a year, Clarity was his to feed, clothe, and care for. The first of many, he hoped. Eventually, she would be moved from the protected area to aid another family through the rough winter approaching.

During the time of the great sleep, the human children in the village would need to rely on human adults. He learned humans thought it odd he and the villagers hibernated for a short time, the coldest time; Doom thought it odd humans didn’t.

Keeping the truth from humans was imperative, especially when the villagers slumbered. The snow was deep and humans would freeze to death if they left the safety of their homes. There was no escape. The bulwarks hibernated as well, but the snowdrifts were brutal. If the humans ventured out, sank into the snow, and died, Doom’s people would die. Humans brought to the village were made to feel safe and wanted. Each was coveted. Everything was provided for them. Locking them all together with the human children in the safe area was impossible for six weeks. The humans needed to be able to roam the entire shelter, to access food supplies and water. Keeping them in the village at all times was paramount.

The humans he met were happy to stay in the safety of the village. From the village, they could see certain dinosaurs that helped prove his point. Many times Doom had come across a human fleeing from a dinosaur. Their flight for life into his arms made trusting him easy. He wished it was.

The storm stopped and Doom took the opportunity to guide Clarity from the cave. He needed to see her safely to his people. Glancing at her as she watched every moving leaf, he wondered if he should keep her for the duration. The Neandersauri coveted human females the most. Doom didn’t know why the females were killed, as were males. If the beasts who discovered her tried to interact with her, Doom wondered if it was to send her in his direction or kill her. The beasts had never kept humans on their own. They wouldn’t take the time to feed and house them, to keep them safe. It was rumored the hybrids hibernated, but Doom wasn’t certain. The hybrids wouldn’t keep humans close when vulnerable. Unless they were never vulnerable as was also rumored. To date, Doom knew of no one who had killed a hybrid, the theory was too much to grasp.

Clarity grabbed his hand at a shrill noise. Humans always behaved in this fearful fashion at first. Doom could only imagine their terror, especially after hearing how docile their planet was. It was hard for Doom to imagine a world without dinosaurs and hybrids. At first when the harvest of humans began, Doom guiltily sent them to their demise, and though the guilt was raw and real, learning their planet was home to billions of humans made the sacrifice easier. A planet that harbored billions could afford to miss a few each year. Doom wasn’t greedy; he wanted only to meet his quota. The villagers of Dooms’ kind counted in the hundreds, or small thousands, if that, spread over the planet. It was hard to tell when gatherings of clans ceased so long ago, before Doom was born.

Humans who came through the sinkholes spoke of countries and States or Provinces. Doom had traveled often on his planet before the village was created. He couldn’t fathom a world where people were cut off from one another by oceans. His kind were kept apart by hybrids.

The female’s small hand was warm and sticky. With bits of tree and sap covering her, he could only guess at where she sought shelter from the beasts. Her earthy smell could have been what put them off, perhaps questioning if their scent was right. This little human was smart. For a second his heart raced, he had to hand the humans over by setting them loose in the forest of loss, the villagers aptly named the area. If the offerings escaped the beasts, it wasn’t his fault. His breath expelled in a sigh,
no
human ever escaped. The beasts were too efficient, the humans too afraid. The hybrids learned sweet whistles would draw a human to their fate. It’s why no villager ever whistled, and human children were reprimanded if they did.

The males of his tribe had a hard time letting go of the beautiful humans found. Letting this one go would be difficult for them all. But when a protest was made, the ultimate question was would they be willing to sacrifice someone from their own family. It was rare, but there had been a few occasions his people gathered more than their quota of humans, and then a nearby tribe would trade for a human if they were short.

Doom’s people were more important than the humans. So were the other tribes fighting for existence. It was a race to find any humans, many perished moments after landing on the planet, the other creatures of this world made no deal with the Neandersauri. They wouldn’t know how. Sometimes Doom damned his people’s ability to think. Even humans used the term “ignorance is bliss.”

Doom’s people had an uncanny life span compared to humans, so he was told. He supposed it was part of their ancient breeding with other humanoid types. He never really questioned the amount of time for his existence before. Doom learned humans were obsessed with the concept. As the animals of his planet evolved, mixed, and the strong prevailed, so too did Doom’s kind, and unfortunately so did the hybrids. His people had stopped breeding, and as far as Doom knew only his kind and the hybrids were left of the known thinkers. For every new birth, DaV-nin wanted another sacrifice. In a way, Doom’s people saved as many of the humans as possible, sacrificing the joy of having their own children to spare suffering. Human children found wouldn’t add to the quota. The evil beasts considered them offerings sooner or later.

At Clarity’s gasp, and the pressure on his hand increased, Doom watched as a dinosaur crept by. Humans told him it was a mix of a turtle and alligator. Doom had never seen either species as a whole and was surprised when humans informed him their creatures were mixed. He should have known earlier in his planet’s history animals bred for supremacy. It was that or extinction, but the knowledge was a revelation when he first learned. The creature lumbering before them was massive and would attack if cornered or challenged, Doom did neither.

Clarity pressed against him, eyes wide. Culture shock apparent. Doom had no doubt if he went to Earth the culture shock would be his. Humans spoke of strange inventions, artilleries, but none were capable of recreating such weaponry. Strange lightning that zipped across the heavens instead of weaving through tree trunks. One human was able to develop matches. For a while, Doom had optimism that one human would be the one to save them, but it didn’t happen. There was always hope in the back of his mind a human would come to help them with the hybrids. Each sacrifice dimmed his hope.

The beauty beside him was timid, small. She would be among the first captured when the time came. It was a shame; she was the first female in a long time to stir his loins until he quashed his ardor. There would never be anyone for him. Some human men lasted longer during the hunt, when they possessed brute strength. It wasn’t morbid curiosity that led him to watch the gathering on one occasion. A human man, powerful yet weak with kindness had fought back. He was brought to his knees by a hybrid, thrown over a shoulder, and taken away. Doom watched no more gatherings after that, hope was too elusive.

There was nothing strong about Clarity. Her dainty hand lifted to brush a lock of hair from her face. She was what humans called Caucasian, but something about her features nagged him. She was human there was no doubt; he’d seen many humans of varying colors and races. His mind shrugged, her looks didn’t matter; she was a sacrifice. For the next year, Doom planned to make certain her life was happy. She deserved that. Her hair was damp from the storm, her eyes a whirlwind of mystery waiting to unfold. He hoped she had many stories to tell. Humans were fun during the long winter months before the deep sleep of the most brutal of weather, swapping tales of their adventures.