Clarity's Doom (Ancient Origins Book 1) (3 page)

Parents howling and yelling raced to dive into the blackness to save their children, while all around the black abyss began filling with zoo animals. A rhino thundered to the surface, its legs smashing into the back of a man who reached for his son and tossed him to safety last second as his back snapped. A giraffe slipped and skidded its spindly legs trying to free itself of the pandemonium. A tiger, soaked and snarling in fury lunged off the shoulders and heads of humans to the pavement leaving jagged bloody scratches in its wake.

The water was a rolling wave of mass confusion surrounded in death. The tumbling choppy waves grew to eight feet in height in the thirty-foot length rectangular wading pool. White caps crashed over heads. Other adults within the park area raced to aid the flailing children and parents as elephants appeared, gorillas broke free to the surface after dragging those in their way back under. Platypuses, polar bears, camels, all emerged until the grassed area became a refuge for the dazed and confused.

A sea of life and death muddled together as police and fire fighters arrived with first aid and paramedics. Among those to offer help were animal shelters. Wild life workers moved in as shots were fired,
and fired
.

****

The chopper hovered over the massive black circular hole over the ocean. The humming whoop-whoop of the blades was the only sound in the silence. The pilot and three vacationing passengers stared in stunned surprise.

“Oh my God.”

Humanoid and not so humanoid alien life forms began appearing on the surface. Blue and green faces bobbed and rolled. A single horn protruding from large-chested, bald beings. Smaller beings void of horns, thinner, curvy, long webby hair, twisted as the black mass filled. All looked dead. Aquatic animals never seen before came next. Grotesque blobs with hundreds of three toed legs, mouths open to reveal purple innards. Long-necked gooey substances rolled within the waves.

“What are they?”

“Not from this world,” the pilot said.

“Black holes?” another asked, speaking in awed undertones.

“Sinkholes maybe, linking our planet to theirs,” the pilot speculated.

“Get me out of here,” a woman demanded and began to hyperventilate, her hands waving in agitation.

The pilot took the chopper higher. The woman screamed as a massive soggy furred being shot from the hole upward. Twenty feet in height it lunged with jagged teeth hitting the underside of the craft. Talons scraped the metal. Squealing protests of fiery sparks flickered as the underside exploded with the contact, flashes dancing across the air. The chopper surged up; a man out of his seatbelt for better pictures flew from the chopper, last moment grabbing the landing gear. Another grabbed for him as the pilot sped off for safety and the monster plunged back into the mass below bellowing.

The black hole began to grow, so too did the number of alien creatures appearing. Not all were dead, and many were decidedly enraged.

****

Outside, everywhere Clarity gazed the ground crumbled. Long gaping splits in the asphalt ran dozens of feet separating streets. Across lawns, ornaments were sucked into oblivion. Gnomes, birdbaths, rock gardens, nothing was sacred or spared. People were running, screaming, others stood still, their feet frozen with horror. Women, children, men, parents with babes in strollers, ran when there was nowhere to run. Each direction blocked with sudden rising slabs of concrete and broken water mains. Downed hydro lines crackled against the surface, dancing sparks of death. Dogs barked, snapped, snarled, others whined. Bright, endless, innocuous blue skies overhead taunted existence. A horrific rumbling within the earth bubbled to the surface, as though starved for human sacrifices.

A small sinkhole opened and people began screaming as creatures the likes never seen before emerged, grabbed a human, and plunged back down into inky darkness. Clarity stood gasping as a humanoid creature, muscles bulging, grabbed a young woman, eyed Clarity, and jumped back into a sinkhole.

The sinkholes remained but Clarity knew from a look the portal or whatever opened was gone, the ebony now a mist of dark earth. A sick feeling in her guts built as she guesstimated the ages of humans disappearing in front of her eyes. The forecaster said people were returning, dead, after years of being lost. What were the ages? There was no mention of children returning, but the broadcast was cut short too fast. A boulder thundered into her chest with her thoughts. What purpose did these alien creatures have?

For whatever reason, people of all ages were disappearing in front of her. Some must have been inoculated as was she. Especially the children. Was her theory too farfetched? It couldn’t be considering the inoculations had begun again.
Why?
her mind screamed. Did any human now appear to be fair game? There was too much pandemonium for much speculation about inoculations when other pressing thoughts bombarded her. The ground shuddered as the water tower in the distance crashed to the ground. A giant wind turbine was next. Nothing was spared.

There were confirmation reports of sinkholes opening in basements. Though Clarity turned off the radio, she didn’t escape a few sordid details. There was gossip in her building at work. The government couldn’t hide everything from everyone. Sinkholes popped up wherever people resided. Now it was plain to see. Humans
were
being stolen. If they were returned dead, there was no hope for survival where they went.

Squealing tires caught her attention. A massive black object descended on her. Clarity dodged the rolling vehicle where it crashed over a tree trunk and screeched to a halt, teetering on the edge of oblivion. Children pounded on the darkened window of the backseat of the SUV. Calling out to her. Clarity could make out their expressions vaguely. She raced to help, but the blacktop rose up splitting the yellow line on the road and the car slipped downward. She knew it was useless, but Clarity grabbed the bumper yanking with her entire being. Little faces, tears trailing their way down pale cheeks pressed to the window.

The pain in her arms was too much, even in her desperation Clarity couldn’t lift a five-thousand plus piece of tin. The car toppled forward as she fell back on her ass, then she scrambled to peer over the edge. The children were still pounding on the window as they disappeared into an ominous ebony darkness. Clarity howled her rage, smashing her palm onto the pavement. She turned to scream at someone, anyone. Why didn’t someone else try to help her? She gazed left, then right. There was no one. The street was deserted.

Her teeth began clicking together as she remembered the words spoken across the airwaves. Someone was coming for her. She was alone. Clarity swallowed hard. The ground beneath her was too hot to remain where she was as the sun beat down mercilessly. Her exposed flesh was burning as the blackened pavement absorbed the sun’s rays.

On shaky feet Clarity rose; her legs trembled as she settled her purse back onto her shoulder in an unconscious action. Slowly she turned. Eerie quiet assaulted her. There were no people, no animals, no aliens.
Nothing
. Her breath resounded in her ears, throat constricting. Heart pounding, she took in the devastation. Her once warm flesh was now saturated in sweat and goose bumps. A small gust of wind ruffled her hair then settled. Her jaw clenched to stop the clacking noise as she cocked her head to listen—for anything. Trees once covered in the lush foliage of summer were bare. Petals from flowers fluttered then slipped into holes. Everything but Clarity had been sucked beneath the surface. Only a few homes remained. The ground a slice of Swiss cheese, pock marked and riddled with destruction.

One foot in front of the other, Clarity drifted, glancing at smaller holes. Ice filled one, long jagged icicles dangled down, plummeting into nothing. Another caused her body to shake as steam wafted to her nose, the scent of fire and brimstone threatened to bring bile to her throat. Another hole filled with bubbling green goo, boiling and popping; the sides of dirt eroding as it expanded. Certain hell awaited unlucky humans.

Dazed, Clarity roamed the broken street. Beneath her the ground grumbled then stilled. A tiny gasp tore from her throat when to her left a small stone statue succumbed to the green goo hole. A movement caught her eye and she stopped, noticing a man in a window. For a second, they stood gazing at one another. She lifted her hand to wave. The ground suddenly shook. Clarity’s body weaved. Her wave turned into a desperate plea for help but the curtains snapped closed. The terrain opened up beneath her feet. Clarity was falling, screaming. There was nothing to hold onto. Down she went into the bowels of the Earth. Her world turned black. Air rushed up, her breath caught and held. The smooth surface of the hole caught her attention when her ass and hips collided with a bump, another bump, then settled.

Clarity tried to breathe but couldn’t. The air was racing by too fast in her freefall. She pulled her arm around her nose and mouth to filter the air. She could feel the sides of her shorts hike as the assault to her ass cheeks scratched further exposed skin. The heels of her runners scraped and she almost tumbled head over heels until she bent her knees. Her back was the next to connect to the hard surface. She was sliding in a curve. Both arms lifted to cover her face as she tried not to let terror consume her. A painful sucking began to her left, and Clarity was thrown sideways. The movement rattled her brains.

A tiny light grew in velocity beneath her. The end was near; her end was near. Clarity braced for impact. She screamed when she became airborne. The sudden shift made her belly flip. The light hurt her eyes after seeing nothing but darkness. Her arms still wrapped around her head, knees tucked to her chest, she curled into a tight ball waiting for the inevitable.

Chapter Two

The tingling of his skin told Doom when it was time to leave the safety of the village and venture to his fate.
Has it been a month already?
Each time there was a harvest of innocents, Doom walked to the cave of sadness, named as such by him, and sat quietly while the etching on his body drew a path of despair on his flesh. Each line, each mark engraved on his soul. Their faces and other beloved images blurred, there were so many. The darkness offered a single comfort. There was nowhere to show his reflection as two single tears made their way down his cheeks. There was nowhere his damning gaze could reflect to condemn him, confront him.

Eyes squeezed tight against the pain, he waited where he knew the brilliance of life would sluice across his skin. There would be no blood, but his flesh was stained with suffering. His sharp breath was the only indication of when the assault started. He swallowed hard once, twice, then settled. Over the course of a year, he tried to connect with each individual he would lead to the slaughter. Not all images were faces. A coveted item, a hammer, or other tool the victim created intertwined across his skin to mix and mingle with the others. The marks were loathed and welcomed. An image of death on his skin meant life for his people, at least for another year.

When the movement across his skin stopped, Doom opened his eyes. He hadn’t moved; yet, his limbs were heavy from exhaustion. Each passing year, the etching took longer as the quota for the hybrids increased. The beasts were insatiable, their need for humans snowballing. With a small shift, he took a deep breath and turned toward the hint of light he had hidden from. He didn’t want to look and at times refused to see the markings. His will wasn’t great enough this time for one reason: he owed his victims that glance.

There she was, her beautiful face etched into his body, a remembrance for eternity. Doom knew it would be her face to haunt him. The only thing she’d coveted was him. Her sweet infatuation would have been his undoing, if he had let her in. He kept his distance to a degree, never letting her close enough to consume his soul. There was time for that after she was gone. If he had spared her, one of his people would have died. If he went in her place, every soul he promised to release would be damned. He must die whole, not ripped to shreds. The images must remain intact. Doom would know when it was his turn for death. Wishing his demise didn’t bring the end any swifter.

He lifted his fingers to gently caress the tattoo. Smooth flesh a deceit when every inch was a dagger to his soul. That one face stood out, bolder than the rest—the one he struggled with. If she had only been a year younger, if not blossomed, if only a child in the hybrids’ minds…. Doom’s entire life was filled with ‘if only’.

“Fear not, young one. When I die, you will come with me into the valley of souls where you will be free.”

The idea was his salvation. The first time the markings appeared, he knew somehow they were his penance and his saving grace. A day would come when the victims would find peace and happiness. Doom swore it on his life, on their deaths. For now, the mark was his solace. He would carry her reflection forever. As long as he remembered her, the Seers would also. The Seers would know of her sacrifice to save his people. The Seers saw everything, how could they not? They shone from the skies, giant hearths, the moon and sun but mostly the stars. Each ancestor blinking down on him and his people were revered.

Rising, Doom strode to the clear pond. The light green of the water reflected his appearance. He hated his image. His hair gone, from stress, he had no doubt. Six foot six, two hundred and eighty pounds, a mighty and powerful male. Helpless. His chiseled features gazed back, mirrored in his glare. Stone cold brown eyes filled with fury as he took in each one of his tattoos. At least, those he could see. Mercifully, the ones he couldn’t see were the marks of his own people when their quota came up short. Each mark one of fury, sorrow, and hope.

“You will all be reborn. You have the word of a warrior, a doomed warrior, a warrior who no longer battles, but my word can’t be taken from me. Only a liar and a coward breaks his word. I swear, if I have nothing else, no one can steal my oath. In life, I could not save you. In death, I will make it my mission to free you.”

When that death would come he had no clue, but he had a gut instinct. While there was room for a single image to adorn his body he would breathe life. The bare glimpses of tanned skin left gave him hope and dread. For now, his people were safe…for another year. Another year to hope their sorry existence would lead to substance. Doom was allowed to dream. But he did so in private. After years of dreaming the same dream, the images drifted further into the abyss of his mind. When dreams turned to fables, dreams became less as hope died. Reality, though harsh, was what ultimately defined existence.