Origins: The Denisovan Trilogy, Book One

By A.B. Carolan

Kayla Jones has dreams she can’t understand. Her future seems determined as the brilliant STEM student who looks forward to a research career, but her past gets in the way. As if the chaos afflicting the world and leading to her adopted father’s death wasn’t enough, killers begin to pursue her. With some friends who come to her aid, she’s on her way to discover a conspiracy that can be traced to prehistoric battles waged by hominins bent on conquest of a primitive Earth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.B. Carolan
• Release date: Apr 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781772421316

A.B. Carolan

I am a collaborator of the American author Steven M. Moore. We met at Blarney Castle in Ireland (appropriate, don't you think?). After a wee bit of chatting there and emails to and fro, I signed on to be his collaborator for all his YA books. I love writing for young adults and adults who are young at heart. Some people think I'm related to that great Irish harpist and singer, Turlough O'Carolan, but who knows?--I don't think any of his DNA is around to check. Others say I was stolen and raised by leprechauns. We do a lot of kidding in Donegal, but maybe they know something I don't. For those who want a free introduction to my blarney, check out my free stories found in Steve's blog category "ABC Shorts"; better yet: read my books.

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What Reviewers Said about A. B. Carolan’s Previous Books

The Secret Lab

"I will disclose this: I picked up The Secret Lab because of Mr. Paws, the intelligent cat. Yes, I could not resist the temptation to read the adventure of a sentient, mathematics inclined cat, told by Steven M. Moore. It exceeded my expectations. Mr. Paws is the result of a genetics experiment aboard a facility orbiting Earth in 2147. The cat and his newly found friends, a group of four smart teenagers, find themselves in an intrigue with corporate agendas, young curiosity, dangerous and ethically problematic research, relationships and their difficulties when coming of age. The complexity is enthralling, but the author also makes it easy to follow, using a light, natural style to tell us their story."–Alfaniel Aldavan’s 5-star reader review

The Secret of the Urns

Asako, a teenager lives with her parents in outer space on a planet’s satellite. Her parents and other adults are scientists studying the satellite. There are native beings on the satellite that has given the scientists permission to study their home. Asako goes out on her own and explores the area. She becomes friends with a Native being. She has decided that she wants to study them. As she learns more about them, she discovers that their ancestors give them advice and other information. Asako wants to learn more about the ancestors but is refused [permission] to have any knowledge of them. When a scientist discover[s] mineral ores, miners come destroying the planets by pollution. When the natives, the natives ask them to stop the miners say no. Asako is the only human who doesn’t think the natives are inferior. Will Asako be able to help the natives save their planet? Will the natives fight the humans?...This is a novel about xenophobia, friendship, and respecting someone that is unknown to you or different." It is an excellent science fiction novel….—S. Mahaffey’s 5-star reader review

Mind Games

This is a wonderful book not only for young adults, but for everyone. It has a wonderful story line that keeps you turning the pages to find out what happens next. It is a wonderfully thrilling journey following a young girl and her quest. Her multitude of experiences and how she handles them make this an excellent book.—Rebecca’s 5-star reader review.

An awesome, fast-paced story that will compel you from the first page to read all of the way through. And so difficult to put down! There are such wonderful characters in this story you become invested in their adventures and their well-being. I highly recommend this!!—Dr. Patricia Eroh’s 5-star reader review.

Summary

Kayla Jones has dreams she can’t understand. Her future seems determined as the brilliant STEM student who looks forward to a research career, but her past gets in the way. As if the chaos afflicting the world and leading to her adopted father’s death wasn’t enough, killers begin to pursue her. With some friends who come to her aid, she’s on her way to discover a conspiracy that can be traced to prehistoric battles waged by hominins bent on conquest of a primitive Earth.

Author’s note: This novel has a young adult as main character and was written for young adult readers, twelve- to eighteen-years-old nominally. Explicit sexual scenes are not present, but some sexual situations often found in this age group are implicit. The same warning applies to any violence contained herein because this is a sci-fi thriller. Parental guidance might be appropriate. Of course, adults can also enjoy the story!

Prologue

New Paltz, NY: 2019

Kayla had nightmares. They’d started when she was five, soon after she was adopted…maybe even before. She didn’t remember much before that. Bombs, yes; flying debris, yes. Waking up in a hospital, a bit fuzzy-headed. But she couldn’t remember who her real parents were, or where she’d come from. She knew that Kayla Jones wasn’t her real name, but she couldn’t remember what that was either. The doctors and nurses had been nice, though…and caring. They told her she was a war orphan. At first she didn’t even know what those words meant because they spoke in a strange language she didn’t understand well at the time.

Her new parents comforted her every time she woke up screaming. They were black; she was light brown. That didn’t seem to matter to them, and it certainly didn’t matter to her. There was a lot of love in their comforting, and there was also a lot to be grateful for in her new home, a place not far from a big city many grownups called the capital of the world.

Her adopted father was a pastor; her adopted mother the church’s choir director and organist. Kayla liked the church music. The softer, slow music was comforting, while the louder and more rhythmic music that got the congregation swaying made her happy. At first she didn’t know what the words that went with the music meant either, but she learned the strange, new language with time.

Sometimes the dreams weren’t bad. In some dreams, she was watching men and women dressed in protective clothing working at counters topped with weird instruments and machines. They didn’t talk much—the area where they worked was quiet and a bit gloomy, and the lights would often go out—but she somehow knew what they were thinking. Those dreams were recurring too, but they brought her peace instead. And somehow that gloomy place seemed like home.

She also remembered a different room where she could sit and stare at the stars—millions of points of light seen from a bubble that surrounded her. Or were those someone else’s memories? In any case, she liked those dreams best. They also seemed like dreams about another home, a more peaceful place than the one associated with the nightmares.

The peaceful dreams weren’t as frequent as the bad ones, though. She never told her new parents any details about them. She wanted the dreams, even the bad ones, to be her special secret. They were the only things left from a past that she’d mostly forgotten. She wanted to know more about it, but she had to postpone that quest.

Chapter One

New York City: 2032

Kayla spotted her pursuer just in time. The second one of the night! Others had killed two of her friends on different nights, and she’d just managed to escape the one who’d killed Pam. Now she had to confront his accomplice in a dark warehouse on the city’s upper West Side. At least there’re no rats!

She dove into a pile of old cardboard and packing material as she heard more shots. Automatic. High-capacity magazine? Harry’s lessons were always with her. She counted the five bullets that had slammed into the wooden shipping crate where she’d been standing only seconds before. Her guess might be correct, but some magazines held more than others.

There wasn’t enough refuse to cover her. Nowhere to hide! She stood and looked around. Move, Kayla! Keep moving! Don’t become a stationary target. Harry’s imagined voice spurred her on. She squeezed between two shipping crates into the next aisle, ran along it, and then smiled as she spotted her pursuer move along the aisle she’d just left, but in the opposite direction.

Maybe he’ll think I’m hiding under the pile? Fight or flee? The last might lead to a bullet in the back just like the one Pam got. It’d been wild the last few days, but, if she did it right, this time she’d get a gun. And there’d be no cops here who’d suspect she’d murdered her friends.

She took several silent, running steps like Harry had taught her, seemed to walk up the side of the crate next to her, and grabbed onto the top edge. She swung onto the crate’s top and then moved back along the crates toward the refuse pile. Peering over the edge of the crate next to the pile, she watched her adversary put his gun back into his shoulder holster. He started tossing the cardboard on top of the pile into the aisle behind him. Now or never! She jumped him.

He was strong but no match for her quickness; he was also old and slow. And his first reaction was to go for his gun. She laid him out before he even had it out of his holster.

She scampered away with the gun tucked snugly in the small of her back, held there by the waistband of her jeans.

***

Her next step towards survival was to find food. She was famished. The hours without much food or water were wearing on her. Nothing to do with her, but she noticed bodies on the streets now. The city’s chaos and violence had continued. Have people organized into packs like wild dogs? They’d seen that on TV.

She suddenly felt a cold frisson down her spine as she realized there could be such a thin veneer of civilization. Scratch a human and you get a rabid dog, she mused. But I won’t be like that! I just can’t!

She spotted golden arches up ahead. She knew the place. The drive-in restaurant was usually full, but now with the chaos? Both police and mercenaries had warned there was safety in numbers, that citizens shouldn’t be out alone. She decided the numbers didn’t matter, and she wasn’t alone: She had a gun now. Sorry, Harry. Sometimes you need one. The fast-food mecca called to its pilgrim. Is there still food there? She’d have to be careful.

Everything looked normal to her once she was inside, though, except for the lack of customers. She bought a Big Mac cheeseburger and large fries, the meal coming with a medium Coke. The latter was self-serve, so she’d repeat that, figuring she needed the caffeine as well as the liquid. Harry had always told her to stay hydrated.

When she turned to look for a place to sit, she only saw littered tables. It was after the lunch hour, so tables hadn’t been bussed. People still had to work, and they had to eat. She thought the mess was a good sign. Customers had been there. Life still went on even with the city’s violence.

What the kid at the register said caught her by surprise.

You a cop?

She then remembered the gun…and Harry. She’d turned her back to study the menu over the drink counter as if she were making a decision. Corporate security guard, she said over her shoulder. Any problem with that?

No, ma’am, not as far as I’m concerned. You keep order around here better than the cops.

Ma’am? She realized how disheveled she must look. Or how young and courageous the kid must be. Or maybe my age? Maybe my scruffiness makes me look older?

Any clean tables?

Sorry. We’re a bit shorthanded. Everyone’s scared now, so people call in sick. But I need the money. I can clean off a table for you, but there’s a booth back by the side entrance that’s almost clean—opposite the bathrooms.

Thanks. Stay safe.

Those bathrooms emitted an odor of vomit, feces, and urine, but the booth was mostly clean. She swept off the few crumbs and dirty napkins and sat. She wolfed down her fast-food banquet and was half-way through the first Coke round when she saw the guy who’d been pursuing her enter through the front door.

I should have killed him! She’d pulled her punch a bit, making her blow not a lethal one. Harry would have been proud, but now she thought it might become a fatal error.

Her pursuer didn’t seem interested in more pursuit, though. He bought the same meal she had, went to a front booth, and swept all its refuse onto the floor. The kid at the register glanced at her with a worried expression without glancing back at the pursuer. Does he suspect? Or want protection?

She figured he wouldn’t get into any trouble with his new customer, who was busy wolfing down his meal, so she entered the bathroom, tidied herself up a bit, and came out. Without glancing at the kid or her pursuer, she slipped out the side door.

I’ve got to get away from here. She’d be too visible in a small town like Bloomington where she’d gone to college. Or even in her hometown, New Paltz. But big cities were becoming dangerous too. She had experienced that personally here in New York City, but the news from Chicago, LA, and other big cities was all bad too.

She’d frisked her pursuer after stealing his gun but found no ID on him. Not even a wallet. Why is he after me? Who is he working for? She was sure he was a toady on someone’s payroll, but whose? He certainly wasn’t the usual garden variety pervert. Sure, she was a lonely girl on the streets of the city, fresh meat for would-be rapists, but these people pursuing her were connected and organized. Her pursuer didn’t seem anything like the crazed thugs seen on the newsnets either. He wouldn’t even look out of place in her father’s congregation with its diverse mix of ethnicities and races. Someone like Harry. Except her pursuer had been shooting at her!

She thought the pursuer and those who killed Jose and Pam must be connected. She was next on someone’s hit list. Are they after my entire group? If she could find that someone, she could end her current nightmare, which was turning out to be worse than any she’d had as a child.

She went into a dollar store and bought a hoody on sale for five bucks. Outside, she ditched the old one with IU and Hoosiers on it into a dumpster. She put on the new one that had the image of a pop singer she’d never heard sing, although the name seemed familiar.

Her father had taken her camping once in the Adirondacks. She’d hated it. Sponge baths with cold river water hadn’t been her idea of fun. A summer thunderstorm hadn’t been either. But that’s a good place to get away from everyone!

As she took off in a trot, she remembered another thunderstorm….

Chapter Two

New Paltz, NY: 2027

Kayla and Billy rode their bikes up the driveway and parked them on the grass under the shade tree. The tree offered some protection from the storm, but it was going to get worse. They made a mad dash for the front door.

You don’t think she’ll mind? Billy said when they were standing on the porch, happy to avoid some of the downpour.

They were under the portico now, remnants of the thunderstorm dripping from them and puddling onto the porch.

Billy Olson was Kayla’s best friend. While the other thirteen-year-old children at school often taunted Kayla, Billy always defended her. He’d even had a fist-fight with that bully Ted Brown; Billy got a shiner and detention for his knightly courage.

Brainy bitch was the least of the insults hurled her way, even by some girls, especially those who believed girls weren’t any good at math…or shouldn’t be, as a few teachers even told them. She excelled in the hard courses and had aced some college-level AP courses already. In the fall, she would leave behind all those schoolyard bullies and start university with a full scholarship.

She thought the taunts might often owe their origin to her different appearance. She was shorter than her adopted parents. That stature and her wide, flat face and nose and curly hair set her apart from all the kids at school. Her protruding jaw, elongated face, broad hips, and wide skull, which her mother said just meant she had a lot of brains, made her unique. Even the black kids taunted her, calling her mutt or mutant or flat face, along with worse words, but not Billy.

Billy’s handsome black face was darker than hers. At night, his perfect teeth flashed when he smiled, his humor providing an anchor in stormy seas when she was moody. Her parents were more coffee-with-cream colored, but in the Jones’ house, they practiced what MLK would have wanted: they were colorblind. Sometimes Kayla would have cram sessions with the other nerds—Asian, black, brown, or white, they were all just friends helping each other learn advanced math and science. Billy sometimes joined that nerd herd—he was better in math than all of them but not so good or even that interested in the rest.

Mom likes you, Kayla said, trying to quell Billy’s doubts. Why are you afraid of her?

Your parents always seem to be studying me like I’m some kind of lab specimen, especially your mother.

Kayla laughed. They’re wondering if we’re fooling around, that’s all.

Billy’s black face managed to turn just a shade darker. I-we-we’re just close friends, right? You don’t mean they think we’re making out, do you?

They’re very religious, but they know kids our age often experiment. You should hear some of the girls talk about what they do, or what they claim they do. Sometimes Kayla thought it was just bragging like the boys did.

Do-do you want to do that?

Kayla smiled at the implied invitation. They might think I do. But I have too many other things on my mind. Let’s go have some milk and cookies. Mom’s probably practicing Sunday’s anthem anyway.

***

Kayla’s mother Zoe ended her practice session at the piano and entered the kitchen, glanced at the wet towels tossed on the floor, and shook her head. She focused on Billy just as he took a huge bite from an oatmeal cookie.

Mr. Olson, I’m happy to see you enjoying my cookies. She poured herself a half-glass of milk and joined them. What’s up with you two? Besides getting drenched, that is.

Same old stuff, Kayla said, knowing her friend had his mouth full. That sounded nice, Mom. Anything to divert the discussion away from the thunderstorm that had already made the lights dim twice. She knew her mother had noticed the wet towels. I was going to pick them up.

So does your trombone when you play it.

I get enough practice in the orchestra, said Kayla. And I don’t think I can continue with it next year. College musical groups can consume a lot of time and be a distraction unless you’re a music major.

She didn’t want to mention her expectation that neither band nor orchestra at the university would accept a thirteen-year-old girl as a member.

Stick with the piano then. Even if you’re just using your hands to play melody and chords, that exercises your mind.

So do differential equations.

Billy had just taken another bite, so he just nodded.

Kayla’s mother shrugged. You’ve got me there. I never got beyond pre-calculus. She smiled. As a preacher’s wife, no one in the congregation cares about my skills beyond what happens in the choir loft. She made a moue. Or the pies that I make for the church socials they always say can’t compare with Mrs. Carter’s.

I’m sure everyone likes to socialize with you, Billy said, reaching for the milk carton. Maybe that’s even more important? As a preacher’s wife?

Mrs. Jones winked at Kayla. No wonder you like this young man. In a way, that’s a very complimentary and adult observation, Billy. And you don’t even go to our church.

Mom! Leave him alone.

That’s okay, Billy said. My mom sort of gave up on religion when my dad left us. But she’s a nurse, and I think what I said applies to her too. She just calls it ‘bedside manners.’

You’ve had a tough time too, just like Kayla, Mrs. Jones said with a resigned smile. Birds of a feather, and all that.

Kayla nodded. Stick together. Maybe. I understand Billy and he understands me. That’s enough.

That’s wonderful and not that easy to achieve. And neither is dieting. If I keep munching on my own cookies, I’ll soon grow out of my choir robe. She eyed Billy and then Kayla. Don’t you two have any homework?

Billy laughed. Teachers’ holiday. They’re away at some conference to learn how to deal with rebellious teens. As if we were like Che Guevara. But we have a long weekend. Hoorah!

I suppose you want to play computer games then?

We just rode through the park, Mom. She knew where her mother was going. We got all the fresh air and exercise we need for today.

"And a bath besides. Use the headphones, then. Your father will be home soon. He’ll want to review his Sunday sermon