Into the Other Dimension: Volume I

By JR Matthews

After an unexplainable anomaly creates a tear in the space-time continuum and jumps the entire galaxy and the multiple dimensions into one, a deadly invasion ensues on Earth by an armada known as The Coalition.

Quick the respond to the invasion, the world continents unite to create the United World Army, recruiting every able-bodied man they could to fight, including the likes of KC Blackstone, a former soldier in 1952 to fight off the invaders; only to have his arms and legs completely destroyed in an explosion.

On the brink of death, his childhood friend and long lost love of his life, Celeste, returns to him after being missing for decades and puts him into stasis until he is awakened 75 years later by a young and rowdy, tomboy genius named Riley, who replaced his missing limbs with new, robotic replacements in the now authoritarian, Coalition occupied Earth.

Butting heads at first, KC and Riley are captured by Coalition forces where they are imprisoned in a labor camp when KC finds Celeste to be working for The Coalition. Reluctant at first, he convinces Riley to join him in escaping the labor camp and set off into the stars to save Celeste, and free her from the grasps of The Coalition’s powerful overlord, Maxim Drake, and revert the galaxy to how it once was.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665536035

JR Matthews

Jordan Richard is a new, up and coming, author and creator of the original ‘Into the Other Dimension’ series. After college, Matthews went on to pursue writing full-time, based out of Delaware. Be sure to keep your eyes open for more works from JR Matthews.

Book preview

INTO

THE OTHER

DIMENSION

VOLUME I

JR Matthews

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

©

2021 JR Matthews. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/24/2021

ISBN: 978-1-6655-3604-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-3603-5 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

I

Kansas City, 1954.

U nder the bright day and warm Spring sun, a Negro League exhibition is taking place where the Kansas City Monarchs host the Homestead Grays.

No seat is empty throughout the entire stadium as the bleachers are filled with the all black supporters of all ages and sizes. They spectate in the humid heat, wiping sweat from their brows and fanning themselves off with the game program while cheering on for their team.

Homestead is the top team in the league, also a long time rival to the Monarchs. Homestead coming to town was always an event when these two teams played because their rivalry spanned for as long as these teams had been founded and beating them was everything.

8 full innings have passed of what’s been an intense back and forth affair between the two teams. The rickety scoreboard behind the padded centerfield wall reads a 5 to 5 game in the bottom of the ninth with Kansas City already limited with one out against them.

The inning started off with a bang when the lead off batter took advantage of a fast ball that he hit over the left fielder’s head, flying around the first base bag and giving his team a lead-off double. That hit kicked the home fans into another gear as they erupt in cheers, breathing life into the team but the momentum doesn’t carry to the next batter as he goes down looking on strikes keeping the runner stranded on second.

The next batter for the Monarchs battled at the plate, taking balls outside the plate and fouling off what would be strikes into the stands, tying the count at 2-2. The lanky pitcher, oozing in sweat, gets his footing set on the mound where he winds up and delivers his pitch. The smeared, dirty, and tattered baseball rips through the humid air, coming in hot at a steady velocity of 85 miles per hour. The peeling baseball, stained with rosin and smudge, smacks hard against a worn-out, dusty mitt, passing just mere inches above a chipped bat being swung by the batter. The ball makes a loud pop when it impacts into the catcher’s glove, causing dirt, chalk, and other hidden residue to spring off into the air.

The home plate umpire, who is squatted low behind the catcher, stands tall, turns to his side, swings his arms wildly and flamboyantly rings up the sweaty batter as he shouts.

Strikeeeee-three!

The irate batter makes his way back to the dugout, squeezing tight onto his bat that he tries to snap in two across the back of his neck.

The catcher tosses the ball down the third base line where the defense swings the ball around the diamond to one another. The Pitcher circles the mound, holding his hand up high above his head, putting up two fingers, signaling the remaining outs to the outfielders who relay the call amongst one another.

The crowd starts to get antsy as the rest of the team hasn’t been able to advance the lead-off runner in two tries and the possibility of the Monarchs squandering a golden opportunity seeps in. For everyone in the stands that were starting to panic there were only a few who remained calm for they knew Kansas City’s secret weapon was due up.

The infield finishes their warm-up tosses and throws it back to the pitcher as they wait for the next batter who takes the last of his warm-up swings on the on-deck circle.

The big, muscular batter, fitted in the tight jersey grips his polished, ebony bat on the top of the barrel and shakes the round ring weights off the handle, letting them crash to the dirt.

The defense watches as the batter makes his way over to the plate and steps into the batter’s box. The Pitcher takes a large gulp of his saliva as he steps back onto the mound and studies the batter, needing to focus hard for he knows this isn’t just another ordinary batter like the last two he’s faced; this is the phenom of the league, this is K.C. Blackstone; a statue personified, tall, chiseled, and handsome with a sharp jawline suited for a Hollywood movie star. A natural hard worker with the proof being the stretched out bold letters of the team name stitched along his wide chest and his well-defined muscles protruding from his tight number 34 jersey; a young man who every woman wants to be with and every man wants to be.

K.C. has an on field reputation that precedes him. Everyone knows about him: gold glove winner, 2-time slugger of the year, and last year’s league MVP. To say he has a bright future ahead of him is an understatement. He’s been on many scout’s radar for quite some time now. Many know he already has the talent to compete with the best but many organizations aren’t too keen on calling a black face up to join their team. Safe to say the kid is good and everyone knows it and if you’re not careful he could take advantage of the slightest mistake.

The manager for Homestead knew this first hand for his teams have been torched by KC more times than none. That’s why he chooses to quickly run out of the dugout, jumping up to the top step like a quick reacting cat so he can be sure to get his team’s attention. He whistles and waves his arm in the air, directing his defense to get back in anticipation of K.C.’s power. The infielders take a couple steps back into the shallow infield grass, leaving no one within 10 feet of the runner on second. The outfielders do the same and follow the manager’s directions, walking back until the heels of their cleats are practically touching the warning track.

KC’s dark brown skin glistens in the bright sunlight as he takes his bat with one hand and points it out above the Pitcher’s head and up toward the heavens. The Pitcher doesn’t appreciate the taunt and snorts before he spits a loogie to the ground. He sets his back foot on the rubber and leans forward as he reads the catcher’s signals. K.C. brings his bat in close and chokes up on it, so tight his rock-hard biceps protrude through his tight jersey sleeves. He stares down the Pitcher like a hawk as the Pitcher shakes off the catcher’s signals one by one.

KC was accustomed