The pair squared off until her tummy rumbled. She learned a feast in her honor and another’s was about to be served. Doom then spun on his heels in a different direction. The door Doom slid back at his touch and revealed a tunnel that surprised Clarity. She knew of the tunnel’s existence, given a glimpse when she first entered Doom’s home, but she wasn’t prepared for the passageway itself. The walls and ceiling were amber, giving the channel warmth. As in Doom’s home, soft light shone from within the stone. At a touch, it slid across the smooth surface, guiding their feet to the tunnel’s end where another door awaited.
Once entering the room Clarity stopped in her tracks. The area was spacious, four times the size of Doom’s home. The walls a masterpiece of beautiful rock. Many furs littered the floor, all thick and soft under her feet. She was tempted to remove her strange new booties that Doom produced while hers dried. Entire families were gathered for a feast. Leather pots were bubbling over rounded dirt holes filled with a burning substance. The aroma was delicious. Other areas void of the strange rock were filled with ovens. Within the ovens she could see loaves of bread cooking.
Doom handed her a bone cup filled with a darkish substance. Clarity sniffed at the contents. Beer? A tiny taste proved her suspicion. The taste wasn’t the same as her preference but enjoyable. She began to wander when Doom left her alone standing stationary to speak to Menace. The man, dangerously handsome, intense, couldn’t take his eyes off her. There was something predatory in his gaze, but more, there was possession, passion. There was a man who wanted love and no doubt would hold fast to the emotion if he possessed it.
Open bulging leather containers caught her attention. The scent was of the beer she drank. Chunks of bread floated in the largest satchel. The leather was double thick, the beast whose hide this came from must have been the devil’s own to bring down and skin. Each satchel was filled with different stages of the fermenting beer. Other leather containers, most stoppered, held a liquid smelling of wine. Sniffing the contents of one Clarity was certain it was fermented plums. She uncorked the lid and dipped a finger in. The beverage was surprisingly sweet and palatable. With no one looking she drained her beer and poured a cup of wine, downed that, and poured another.
Booze, finally something tangible in this God forsaken hell.
Clarity shook her head. Her situation was dire but if she survived a sinkhole she would survive this mess. She needed to gain perspective on the positive.
Hmm, positive.
She again glanced at her surroundings and took a sip of her wine. Doom’s people were so primitive and yet their creations so advanced with what they had to work with. Or perhaps they learned about what and how to create with human help. If, when, she found material she could work with, the villagers could be taught. The men and women clearly possessed the power and strength to wield weapons. They just needed better weapons. Clarity began roaming.
Adjoining rooms, their ancient smell preceding them, were filled with intricately woven baskets containing einkorn and emmer wheat, rye, and barley. The bins were half-full, and Clarity wondered if they went out to collect the staples in the fall. Other containers showed molasses. She dipped in a finger to find it bitter and wondered if it was made from or cooked with sugar beets. The idea made her head spin with marvel. These people functioned living with dinosaurs. Another bin was filled with small hard rocks. She picked one up and sniffed. With the tip of her tongue she took a taste. Salt. Clarity wondered if they were near the ocean or sea. Round stacks of hard cheese were in a cool corner. She scratched her head wondering where they got milk; there were no kept animals. Not even chickens. Then she wondered if there were eggs. Doom said they prepared for winter but the weather was more like spring.
In adjoining caverns were a multitude of drying herbs, for seasoning and medicines. Racks were laden with heavy burdens. In another area were rocks, flint, and bone in various stages of work for weapons and tools. Another area contained rolled furs set on shelves from floor to ceiling. Massive furs hides as long as the room itself. Strange gray leathers worked and stretched on triangular, rectangular, square, and circular frames. Long cordage was woven for types of rope displaying a variety of knots.
Dried fish, the likes she’d never seen, fresh and dried were tied to rows of racks. A number of circular domes were in another room. Clarity could smell the heat exuding from them. The smell of cedar was high and she wondered about sweat lodges. Rows further within the shelter held wood and coal.
How can they be so far behind?
Did the primitive era dictate the primitive people? Not one thing remotely resembled technology. Then again could dinosaurs walk the earth with man and a concrete jungle? Imagine a T-rex peeking in on your lunch break through a two-story window. Would raptors chase subways like dogs chased cars? The dinosaurs would need to be muzzled; you couldn’t have a child eaten on the way to school. A disturbing image of a raptor holding a stop sign wearing a safety vest while people crossed a cross walk came to mind. At the end of the day someone would go missing. BBQ’s would be an interesting affair. Dark meat, white meat, or dinosaur meat?
The special tonight on our menu is mammoth hybrid.
Clarity lumbered back to the main room shaking her head, sipping her drink, feeling a bit giddy. She was lightheaded and knew she needed to eat; the beverages were strong. There was an abundance of food. Perhaps providing for the village was their way of proving technology did advance. These were no Stone Age cave dwellers with limited abilities. Set up on tables were smaller rounder chunks of breads. Berries and grapes with a wooden gravy boat of honey. She spied eggs, huge and similar to ostrich eggs. On another table sat cheesecake and bees wax. She picked up a small square and took a tentative taste of the cake. It was different but pleasant.
Her suspicion of an ocean nearby was confirmed when she saw large animal skulls filled with oysters and mussels nestled in ice. The ice was saltwater when she ventured a small taste. Clarity wondered if their dwellings were privy to an ice cave lower underground. Shellfish, shrimp, lobster, and crab were surrounded by dried seaweed. Leather pots contained melted savory butter. Greens and wild carrots steamed on small round rock tables with coals beneath to keep them hot. Numerous cooked plants and roots were on similar roundish tables with waiting tongs set aside until the feast began.
Clarity could smell clean air mixing with the aromas. There had to be ventilation shafts somewhere. As long as she could breathe, she guessed it didn’t matter where the air was coming from.
Doom came to steer her toward a group of people who were settling onto large furs. There weren’t many children. She had seen a few playing, but they appeared sullen. She wondered how long they had been here. All wore the same furs and leathers as their parents but Clarity could tell these children were human. Their bones weren’t as dense, their size, like hers, was too small in comparison. Doom’s people weren’t simply robust, their muscle mass was that of body builders in both man and woman. Their phenomenal power years of testimony to the harshness of the environment.
Gazing at the clan of perhaps thirty, it was undeniable all adults were near the same age, with Doom the youngest. The rest were children, ranging in age from five to twelve. There were no teens or young adults. Clarity felt the bile rise in her throat. If Doom sacrificed children, she would find a way to steal every last one of them and find a way home or die trying.
Oh, the irony of ‘die trying’.
Doom stood before his people smiling. He motioned to a man and woman. The couple stood with the small unhappy boy she had spied earlier. The woman appeared happy, the man wary and the boy held charcoal and a strip of birch in his dirty hands. The child was scowling. He gazed up at the woman who had her hands on his shoulders.
“I want to go home now,” the child said. “This junk don’t make planes. And I need crayons.”
“Hush now,” the woman whispered.
Clarity’s heart sank, the boy wasn’t theirs, she was right.
“Th
is isn’t paper, it’s dumb,” the boy grouched, his scowl deepened.
Clarity knew a temper tantrum was inevitable. The boy’s back was rigid, his neck reddening. The vest-like shirt he wore made her lean forward for a better look at his exposed arm. He was inoculated. She peered at the other children, they weren’t. That had her speculating. Either the other children fell into a sinkhole before mass inoculation started or they weren’t from her Earth.
The more she thought on the idea another Earth existed, the more she became positive. The humans Doom spoke of were too docile. Never questioning, never challenging. There were submissive people on her planet but facial features were a dead giveaway when she examined the children closer. Nothing in their faces, subtleties, and nuances. The four other children were apprehensive when the young boy scowled at them as well.
“What have you decided to name your son, Edge?” Doom asked ignoring the boy.
“Flight,” the man said and rolled his eyes. Others in the room chuckled.
“My name is Joseph Jay Junior,” the boy yelled, turned and stomped his feet. “My daddy’s going to fly his plane up your ass.”
The woman looked mortified. Doom’s eyes widened. The other children shuddered collectively. Clarity placed her hand over her mouth and laughed. Edge growled and, grabbing the boy’s shoulders, he swatted the boy’s behind making him yelp.
“You can’t hit me,” the boy raged as tears streamed down his face. “Children’s Aid will throw you in jail. My daddy will sue your ass.”
Clarity doubted these people would understand the concept of Child Services. Though she admitted at times she didn’t either in certain circumstances. As for a lawyer, they might fit in with the raptors.
“The boy will be known as Flight from now on.” Doom hunkered down to the boy’s level. His gaze was stern. “This is where you live, this is your home. These are your parents. Unless you answer to your name you will be a very hungry little boy.”
“I didn’t eat all day,” the boy whined.
“And unless you answer to Flight you will not eat.”
Clarity saw hopelessness seep into the boy’s features. “I want my mommy.”
The woman scooped him up. “I’m right here, Flight.” The boy remained rigid.
Both adults took the boy to another room. Doom faced Clarity. She narrowed her gaze onto him. If he tried to give her another name, she’d taser him. He leaned to grip her hand to pull her to her feet. She stood gazing at the many strange faces before her.
“This is Clarity,” Doom began. Clarity sighed with relief. “The first of many in our salvation. There is no need to petition for her, she is staying with me for the duration.” Clarity heard groans. Menace had his dark glare fixed onto her. “This human has discovered what we need.” Groans turned to gasps.
“She must be placed in seclusion,” someone yelled.
“Maybe she should be turned loose,” said another.
“No not turned loose, but yes seclusion. She will terrify the others.”
Frantic calls continued until Clarity became annoyed. Doom was watching his people, appearing useless. Clarity decided the villagers needed to understand she made her own destiny. She reached into her small bag hanging from the leather rope at her hip. Doom had seen her use a similar pink object to gloss her lips and he looked confused. She wondered if he could tell this was a different tube. This was her personal taser, disguised in a lipstick tube, and Clarity zapped Doom who fell like a stone twitching. Silence followed. Everyone took a communal step back. Doom was groaning. The shock wasn’t high voltage and he was a large man. She was feeling exceptionally smug.
“I’m happy my parents named me Clarity,” she said, she placed the cap back on the tube then slipped the taser back into her little sack. She paced a few steps; everyone watched keeping their distance. “Situations become very clear to me quickly. Unless you change what you’re doing you’ll all be dead, killed by the hybrids. I won’t be one of your sacrifices. I just might be your salvation. In any case, if one person tries to hurt me, dispose of me or any other funky thing I’ll make you shit your drawers. Understand?”
Doom was stumbling to his feet. Hands braced on his knees he gave Clarity a nasty glare. “I changed my fucking mind. Anyone want to petition for this delightful creature?”
Not a single hand rose.
Chapter Seven
Doom sat watching Clarity eat. After her initial exclamations over the onyx plate given her she hesitantly picked at her food, she questioned everything, sniffed everything. Doom wondered if her small stature was due to the fact she never ate. After the initial taste, she dove into her meal with gusto. Obviously a fan of dark meat, she groaned, eyes closed then sucked juices from her fingers declaring the meat melted in her mouth. Then went on to say words such as “succulent” and “tender”.
What was she expecting, raw hide?
She’d eaten with him before but appeared to actually be tasting—everything. Her cocky appearance made him wonder until he tilted her empty cup. He smelled the wine. She’s half drunk. She was cocky when not inebriated but twice as bad when tipsy. A fucking nightmare when drunk I bet. He poured her some water.
Doom gazed around as his people settled with filled plates. All kept Clarity at arm’s length or more. Edge and his wife had returned with Flight. The boy dutifully answered to his name—and ate standing up. No doubt his father taught him respect. From the child’s demeanor, Doom suspected he’d never in his life been spanked. A catharsis of clarity in a flat, opened hand. Almost all of Earth’s children came with an attitude, none as difficult as Flight. Doom’s people never beat children, but they did demand compliance. The villagers didn’t want the children to fear them. In the world they were dumped in, literally, they needed to listen to survive.
“What is this?” Clarity asked. She held up a hard, small, thin, circular piece of bread with meat pulverized to paste.
“The bread is our version of Earth’s crackers, the meat is liver.”
“Liver from what?”
“Megaceros or megaloceros.”
“I’m guessing either or would feed your village a few meals. Do you have any moose?”
“Moose. The creature has been described. None that I’ve ever seen. At least not on this part of the planet.”
“Is this from the animal hide you have on your bed?”
“No. The animal hide is a mastodon mammoth.”
“And this meat?”
“Casteroities, giant beaver. Not all of our animals are hybrids. If it works don’t fix it.”
“Aren’t they like the size of a car?”
Doom blinked at her searching for the word. “Ah yes, things you earthlings ride in. Ve-hic-les with wheels. We also have giant rabbits, some like the beaver adapted but changed. Like your moon-keys.”
“Moon-keys?”
“A human once told me Earth has a species considered one and yet the same.”
Clarity scrunched her nose while absently chewing. “Monkeys,” she declared.
“Yes. Great apes, spider monkeys confuse me though. What an odd hybrid.”
She laughed. “Great apes, and spider monkeys aren’t half-spider or no self-respecting woman would live anywhere near them. And I can pretty much guarantee they’d be number one on the endangered species list.” She smiled at him, sucked on applesauce from a wooden spoon, then appeared to have a thought. “So you have your bulwarks you say keep the village safe. Granted they’re huge, but what keeps out hybrid mammoths? The strange noise you told me of?”
“The noise keeps out the very large dinosaur and doesn’t affect mammals. Our bulwarks aren’t only crossed with dire wolves and cave bears. They are also wolverine. The noise doesn’t bother them either.”
“That’ll do it. Wolverines. Nasty little pieces of work. I’m surprised they let anyone near them.”
“They’re all bred from a long line of hybrids. When the female…”
“Muffin.”
“U
gh, really? Really?”
“She looks like a Muffin.”
“When Muffin,” he ground out swallowing the word and making her laugh. “When she goes into heat this year we will breed her with the alpha bulwark. Muffin, is old, almost too old to breed. Once she has her cub-pups we will destroy her and the alpha and raise the babies. Next year we will breed the other female with the beta who will then be the alpha and do the same thing. Only two hybrids, the strongest male and female will be allowed to live from each mother.”
Clarity’s face had slowly been slipping into a mask of horrified outrage. “That’s beyond awful.”
“Their sires will kill the others’ cub-pups. Even a beta will try to kill the alpha’s spawn. The young ones are raised with families who have a child or children. By the time they are too big to house the older bulwarks are dead and the threat is over.”
“So for their long years of loyalty you kill them? You don’t let the mothers raise their offspring. Muffin is gentle.”
“So I saw. Her time is near done. I can’t have a muffin for a safeguard.”
“Don’t you think she’d protect the village anymore?”
“She would protect her offspring first, the village second. Wouldn’t you?”
Clarity sat without another word. Doom could see the flicker of her eyes. A quiet Clarity was a dangerous Clarity. For some reason he found the thought to be amusing. Until he realized he was the one stuck with her.
****
“What are you looking for?”
Clarity cast a fast glance at Doom who was trailing her through the jungle-like forest. In a few days everything green had multiplied and enlarged to vast amounts. It was hard to believe she was walking the same forest. Leaves, some as large as her, graced bushes and trees. Rainbow colors filled her sight at each glance. If it wasn’t for the dinosaurs, the scene would be paradise.
Clarity's Doom (Ancient Origins Book 1) Page 10