Afterworld: The Haunted Realm Beyond Our Stars

By James G. Robertson

Death comes, and misery follows.

With nothing but his guts and a cryptic mark dubbed as a conquest, can a Kansas native outlast the carnage of a distant realm?

As a man in his early twenties, Leon never contemplated what would happen after his death. Like those before him, he never knew what to expect next.

We live in a cruel world, and one crueler still awaits.

After Leon's sudden demise, he's thrust into the brutal reality of our dystopian afterlife. After falling into the realm beyond, he finds a system of oppression—souls enslaved while others are being killed to appease their captors.

Amidst humanity's greed and malice, mysterious creatures dwell. With dangers all around, will hope and tenacity prove enough to save Leon, or will he and the turbulent cosmos succumb to oblivion?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Life Publishing LLC
• Release date: Mar 12, 2023
• ISBN: 9781954638037

James G. Robertson

James G. Robertson was born in a small town in Kansas. He’s also lived in Texas, Missouri, and in New York, where he graduated college from SUNY Oswego in 2019 with a bachelor’s in political science and a theatre minor. He has also received an associate’s degree in information network technology, which he obtained in 2012 from Pratt Community College. His first book in the Next Life series, Afterworld, was first published May 1st, 2020. If you wish to know anything else, feel free to contact him using the contact page on his website or via social media.

Book preview

Prologue

Iwas like you once—oblivious to how the world works. What I’m going to tell those of you who listen is the truth about our universe, the real truth. Stories of gods have been repeated throughout human history, and while you’ve probably heard of a few of them, do you believe that those are all that have existed? Surely, there must be other deities out there that you’re unfamiliar with? But let’s imagine for a moment that you’re a scholar, and you know of all the gods from the more obscure religions, such as the Aztecs, Incas, or Mayans. Let’s go even further and assume you know each from the Native American tribes.

Now ask yourself this question: did only one of these beings create the world? The universe? Or is there a more in-depth story here? What if I told you there’s a verity that the prophets of our world have buried at their rulers’ behest? But now you’re wondering, what is it?

The fact of the matter is that although each doctrine seems separate, that’s a fallacy. While each tale might appear dissimilar on the surface, they share a singular purpose that differs from anything that our deities led us to believe. The real justification for these religions has been to prepare us for what is ahead, while the true gods have defended our universe, fighting together to keep it safe.

Safe from what? you ask, These are gods we’re talking about.

Indeed, they are. But there are others, those that come from beyond worlds. I don’t mean that they are among the many galaxies, such as the Milky Way or Andromeda, but from a cosmos independent of our own. This place is somewhere that we cannot see or reach, no matter how far we travel; another dimension, if you will. This isn’t a time paradox of multiple Earths or various reflections of it. No, these other universes are whole and complete in their own right and complexity, and these beings formed their own realms in how they saw fit, as ours had done.

Those other gods, however, are not as forgiving or as merciful as our own. That statement holds much truer now that they’ve directed their sights at our universe. Sure, our creators may have established a timeless conflict and abandoned our world, but at the end of it all, it appears most of them have cared for us in doing so. This may be a confusing statement, and you may rebuke that by looking at the violence that religion causes, and of the countless tragedies that are still taking place upon our world; for this, I couldn’t blame you.

So why then? For what purpose was this dissension created through different yet very similar religions? Numerous of these religions share several prophets, and arguably worship the same god—yet their followers fight for the same land; why is this? One cannot help but contemplate this enigmatic debacle. And if one dares to call the other fake, they may as well be declaring that of their own. Many have and still continue to make this critical error.

So, what is the solution to this conundrum? The answer, while complicated, is straightforward. It is all to prepare humanity for what’s ahead. While the divinity wished for us to live peaceful lives, they also needed to breed warriors. The universe, our universe, needs soldiers and fighters. The ongoing struggle hasn’t been a fight for life on Earth, but a battle for our very existence. For these invaders desire nothing more than to make all bow down to them. This includes our gods and their creations. This, includes you.

Part One

Afterworld

image-placeholder

Chapter I

Beginning of the End

Drifting—falling through the sky—a young man opened his eyes to what seemed to be nothing more than a dream. The man had often dreamed lucidly. Sometimes, it was more vivid than others, but he always understood who he was and felt that once again, his mind was making up stories. Looking up at the moonlit clouds, he smiled, his hair fluttering as the cool breeze brushed against his body.

This is amazing, he mused.

Yet, the lingering of the clarity struck him as peculiar. For while he had lucid dreamed before, this was different. Even if he had experienced severe pain, absolute pleasure, and tasted the most divine dishes one could ask for within his fantasies, there was always a slight blur to them. Some aspect that looked or felt cloudy—something he couldn’t quite comprehend, and he’d usually awake with little difficulty. But that wasn’t the case this time.

It is a dream, isn’t it?

As his daze wore off, the man became more aware and panicked. He started slapping his cheeks in order to wake himself, but to his dismay, the pain was immediate, sharp. He then pinched his arms, but only felt the genuine sensation of doing so.

Wha... what the hell! What’s going on? Why am I falling through the damn sky?

Terror set in as he rolled over, facing the tumultuous wind. It was nearly impossible to see, and his heart hammered as fear took hold with its withering grip. Quick gasps; stuttered breaths. Each time he inhaled, oxygen-rich air filled his lungs. He squinted even as his eyes dried from the cool, salty gale. By forcing them to stay open, he viewed the surreal surroundings. A large forest and a snow-covered shoreline loomed in the distance to the north, while a vast body of water awaited below.

Disoriented, he questioned the reality of it all, the air’s warmth at this altitude conflicting with his expectations. However, there was little time to give it much thought, for as he darted towards the ground, there was one familiarity that remained true: wherever he was, gravity was still in control.

I need to figure something out, fast. Which should I shoot for? Will the snow be deep enough? Can the trees break my fall without breaking me in the process? I’m closer to the water, and it’s the easier target. Hell, at this rate, I can’t be sure I’d make the forest. Think. Damn it!

It was a tough decision, and the only experience he had for skydiving was a short video he had seen online. He thought back to it, trying to remember something—anything.

… If your parachute fails and somehow the backup fails, there is a slim, but possible chance you will survive. For proof, look no further than Vesna Vulovic, who survived falling over 33,000 feet. Now, what you want to do is aim for the softest spot you can locate and relax your body to the greatest extent possible. This is done to avoid as much damage to your internal organs as you can. Remember that tensing your body is likely to cause more stress and lead to further injuries. There isn’t any guarantee you will walk away if that happens, but let’s hope it never comes to that.

That asshole, smirking of all things while explaining that? Well, ok. This is crazy, but I don’t have time to debate with myself. I’ll have to take my chances; screw it, the water it is. If I’m able to go in feet first (that’s a big if), I may negate enough of the impact so that my spleen doesn’t rupture, and hopefully, I can move afterward.

With the water closing in on him fast, he let out a controlled breath. The wind seemed to pound his face even harder, and his arms shook from the stress. As he approached ground level, he took one final deep breath in. His stomach knotted as the fresh air entered, knowing it could very well be the last. It was crash or swim.

Impact. There was a big splash, and everything faded to black.

image-placeholder

By now, you may be wondering how this young man ended up falling from the sky, or perhaps, who he is? Let’s start with his name: Leon D. Michaels, a typical twenty-four-year-old college student staying with his dad while juggling a delivery service job and pursuing his bachelor’s degree. Little did he know, an average day would thrust him onto a path leading to an unknown destination.

Why did that damn COVID virus have to show up and ruin my spring break plans? Leon thought as he drove through the rocky country road of NW 30th Ave, west of the quaint town of Iuka, Kansas. Well, at least this gives me a chance to do some camping and a little fishing. It seems as though it’s been ages since I visited grandpa’s spot, our secret get away. Isn’t that what he always called it?

Just under an hour’s drive from his home, Leon pulled over near a small gate. The dry Kansas air greeted him as he opened the truck’s door, a familiar sensation from the countless times he’d visited this haven.

Best state my ass. Whoever in my elementary school changed the lyrics of Fifty Nifty United States to make it say Kansas is the best clearly hasn’t done much traveling.

Leon stretched as he approached the gate and grabbed hold. The rough texture of a dirt-coated metal greeted his fingertips, and a metallic ring rang in his ears as he struck the latch, causing grime to fall from the keyhole. Rummaging through his pocket, he found the old key, inserted it, and then turned.

With a satisfying click, the gate opened, and the name Michaels broke away in two parts.

Your buddy boy has made it, grandpa, he whispered, smiling.

Leon hopped back into his little black GMC Sonoma and drove through the gate’s entrance. Parking near an oak tree, he breathed in the dry air and pollen as he exited the truck a final time, relishing the familiarity of the surroundings.

As he unpacked his gear, Leon marveled at the unchanged landscape. It was dusk, but a thin light from the horizon brightened the morning terrain with a purple radiance. With every step, memories surged as the dirt crunched beneath his hiking boots. The hike to their secret camping spot, distinguished by familiar bushes, brimmed with recollections. He and his grandpa had always used them as location markers. When he was little, he found it fascinating.

Now, it wasn’t as if the trek was necessarily perilous; it was pretty straightforward and primarily flat, being in Kansas. The most significant danger was the coyotes who would usually only come out in the dead of night, and he knew they were ordinarily more afraid of you than you’d be of them. But monitoring his environment was something his grandfather wanted him to learn, as he would tell him:

Always take care and be safe rather than sorry. Create mental markers and be aware of your surroundings; utilize them when you need to. Not everywhere is going to be as tranquil as home.

Reaching their old spot after about 30 minutes, Leon found the pond’s ripples illuminated by the soft morning light. The calm scene, accompanied by the croaking of frogs, transported him back to a simpler time; while the melodic sound from the stunning tree line soothed him, their branches creaked like teeter totters.

Amidst unpacking, Leon walked over to the nearby patch of honeysuckles and plucked a few small stems from the bush, putting them between his teeth. The sweet nectar hitting his tongue reminded him of a house he had lived in when he was young.

It was like today’s weather. The wind was blowing, which made the honeysuckle bush scrape the siding, and then those crazy horny toads appeared from underneath it! Strange little guys. The critter with the mix of orange and grays even let me rub its head and almost fell asleep.

Leon continued thinking back on it—trying to remember when he had last seen one in the wild. Kansas used to be filled with them, but now they were scarce. Setting aside the melancholy, he finished assembling his tent, its red and white material sparkling in the morning sun.

With a fishing pole firmly in his grasp, Leon hooked a worm and cast his line into the glistening waters. He felt a subtle but profound joy as he did. Fishing was his grandpa’s passion, and though Leon hadn’t engaged in it frequently, his grandfather’s love for the pastime had left an indelible mark on him. It was as if the act itself served as a quiet tribute to the precious moments they had once shared.

The years spent away from Kansas had created a distance, both physical and emotional, between them. Now that he found himself back, Leon was determined to savor the moments more fully. While embracing the simplicity of life here was straightforward, it was the pursuit of excitement that posed a greater challenge.

While trying to get a small bass to grab his bait, Leon thought back on a local character renowned for his eccentric approach to lawn mowing. Despite his unconventional methods, the majority of residents refrained from complaining, and some even welcomed his cheerful demeanor as he moved from one yard to the next. Regardless of the outcome of his peculiar techniques, his genuine enthusiasm resonated positively within most of the community.

As Leon continued to stretch out by the pond, relishing the splendid morning, a refreshing mist-laden breeze danced off the water’s surface, caressing his dry face. The sun’s gradual ascent provided a steady warmth that permeated to his very core.

It really is a wonderful morning.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so relaxed, and thinking back, the memory of his grandpa’s mantra echoed in his mind:

The sun burns bright, makes a man just right.

He would often repeat the phrase to him. It didn’t matter if they were out on the town on a beautiful day, doing chores or just relaxing in the shade. Though truth be told, they didn’t get to do much relaxing, as his grandfather was an extremely hard worker and was almost always busy.

In a moment of reflection, Leon whispered, I miss you, gramps. It’s been rough without ya.

As he was reminiscing, a chilling gust sliced through the air, sending an icy shiver racing down Leon’s spine. His breath caught as he glanced upward, only to be met by the ominous descent of raindrops. The sky, cloaked in brooding clouds, seemed to pulse with an unsettling energy, and Leon’s heart quickened its pace, echoing the rhythm of the impending storm.

image-placeholder

Several miles away from his grandparents’ old cabin, Leon observed the clouds gather and darken. The wind howled, and the heavens cracked with a thunderous roar from above. He quickly double-checked his tent stakes, ensuring they were secured, and then rushed inside as the light droplets intensified into a savage downpour.

Best I stay here and try to ride it out. The cabin’s far, and the truck’s further; at least here I have some shelter, Leon said to himself.

A sudden thud against the tent made him jump, and after calming, he peeked outside. His forgotten fishing rod, caught by the relentless Kansas wind, was wreaking havoc. The barbed end tangled with the tent lining, created a chaotic whirlwind as the pole pounded against the ground, shedding the little worm attached to it. The line snapped, and it flew away—slamming into a nearby tree where he heard it shatter to pieces.

Damn it! I just bought that pole.

Surveying the surroundings, he noticed the pond had flooded, forcing the toads from before to dart to higher ground. Above, the clouds were now rotating—a dreadful sign, particularly in the tornado-prone state of Kansas. Leon’s heart thrashed against his chest.

I’ve got to move. There’s no getting around it. I’ve got to go now!

A barrage of raindrops pelted him as he stepped out to sprint towards the distant cabin. The rainstorm turned even more disastrous as he moved forward, and Leon strained to see even a short distance ahead in the blinding rainstorm. As he ran through puddles, water seeped into his pants. Despite his waterproof boots, he was soon soaked from head to shin. Gasping for breath, he stumbled forward, buffeted by powerful gusts and rain that felt like tiny glass shards.

The meadows ahead had become like a shallow swamp, but he couldn’t turn back. Submerging his boots, he sloshed through the trenched area. Remembering an old Bruce Lee quote, Leon forced a smile through chattering teeth:

You must be shapeless, formless, like water. When you pour water in a cup, it becomes the cup. When you pour water in a bottle, it becomes the bottle. When you pour water in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Water can drip, and it can crash. Become like water, my friend.

I’m not sure about becoming water, but it sure feels like it’s becoming a part of me.

In a cold, numbing distance, he could see it. The hazy facade of his grandparents’ raggedy cottage was just ahead. Pushing forward, Leon felt not only numbness but also a strange tingling throughout his body. Suddenly, a wave of piercing pain, akin to small daggers, surged through him.

Am I getting hypothermia? What the hell is going on?

As the question lingered, the aberration moved through his body once more—here one moment, gone the next, and this time, he along with it.

image-placeholder

Leon’s eyes snapped open, stinging from the dark, salty depths that surrounded him. He pushed down with his arms, aiming for what he hoped was the surface. Then, a moment of pause.

This is something I can control. Don’t rush, be smart. What were those diving classes in college for if you’re going to panic in the water?

Composing himself, he puckered his lips and sent out air, confirming his suspicions as bubbles moved towards the surface. Swimming as fast as he could, he released the remaining oxygen to avoid decompression sickness. Even as his lungs burned like the sun, he pressed on, hearing the sound of waves swishing back and forth intensify.

Almost there. You can do this. A few more strokes and...

At last, he broke through the warm salty abyss, coughing and gasping for air. After clearing his throat, he tread water, taking a moment to assess his surroundings.

It looks like I’m about half a mile off the shoreline. That’s not too bad for some last-minute preparation from someone who’s never skydived. It also seems that somehow, I’m in one piece, which is pretty impressive, all things considered.

Not completely sure of his well-being, but conscious and able to move, Leon forged ahead. As he swam towards the coast, the water gradually cooled. Upon reaching the shore’s waters, his breath was visible, and it felt as though he was swimming through the arctic.

Fi...nn…nally, land!

Shivering, Leon crawled ashore, his teeth chattering as he stood. The fresh snow beneath crunched under his soggy boots as he scanned the desolate landscape.

Which do I go with? When I was falling, I saw nothing significant on the beach; no villages, buildings, nothing at all for miles. Then again, I couldn’t see much in the forest either.

Leon considered.

It’s a gamble, but I guess I’ll take my chances in the forest. There’s probably something useful there—perhaps a stream or a source of food.

With a deep, frigid breath, Leon headed towards the forest. As he first entered, its tall, dark trees dancing like phantoms reminded him of Lemon Park’s nature trail in Pratt, Kansas. Memories of high school adventures flashed in his mind. He and his friends would walk its paths at night—on the hunt for the rumored cult that fancied it for their sacrifices, but never finding them, they were more than willing to settle for ghost orbs. During their exploits, he would often sing them the Ghostbusters! theme song. He smiled reminiscing, but keeping his condition in mind, he hastened through the dark woods.

Crushing dirt and leaves beneath his boots, Leon moved forward, feeling the air grow warmer as he distanced himself from the coast. The woodlands echoed with the soft patter of rain and distant croaks of ravens. As he advanced, raindrops lightly drummed on his shoulders, and a sudden motion to his left startled him. Listening intently, he identified the swift passage of an owl.

Watch it! he yelled after the bird.

The outburst left him panting, feeling the physical toll of the fall. Growing more exhausted, he paused to catch his breath. Despite the lingering darkness, a small clearing in the trees illuminated the space ahead. Broken branches littered the area, drawing his attention to a nearby crater. Closing the distance, he gazed up towards the opening and noticed the moon—or was it moons?

Two moons? What the hell is going on?

The dual orbs captivated him, casting their vibrant spectacle across the sky. Strangely, Leon couldn’t spot any stars, and his heart sank as he backed away. Out of the corner of his eye, an unsettling sight met him—a man’s corpse impaled on a tree branch—the victim’s sleeve bearing an etched symbol of a sword piercing the center of a crown. The body, recently rotted, displayed missing eyes, and as he observed, a raven swooped down to join another in picking the flesh clean.

Gagging, Leon clenched his mouth shut. Uncertain of his location and when he might eat again, he forced the vomit back down with a rancid swallow.

Would this have been my fate had I tried for the trees?

The quiet rustling of leaves nearby sent a shiver down his spine, and with each subtle movement, he felt like the hidden threat would pounce on him from beyond the dense foliage. After witnessing the gruesome sight, he didn’t dare wait to discover the source of