Afterlife

Afterlife
By Darkraptor1
Rated PG

***

BANG

When Charles died, he didn't expect it to be so quick.  A gunshot to the brain ends life very quickly, almost instantly, and that was what happened to Charles.  A single 9mm pistol bullet entering his brain and tearing it to shreds, ending his life, killing him before he even hit the ground.

In terms of afterlife beliefs, Charles didn't have any.  He didn't really know what to expect upon death…most likely oblivion and nothingness.  It was, in a way, this openness that made his first moments after death all the more interesting.

***

At first there had been nothing.  Just a plain, simple, all-compressing blackness.

It took a while for Charles to come back, and realize that even though he was dead (he had felt the gun blast to the head), he was, somehow, still thinking, still aware of himself.  Naturally, it was a confusing experience.

He tried to figure out where he was, what was happening, but couldn't figure out what was going on.  With the fact that there was nobody around to help, he was completely on his own when it came to figuring out what was going on.

In a way, it was a relief to see something.  After what felt like a few moments something appeared in front of him, very far in the distance, a tiny speck in the black void he was currently floating in.   With nothing to guide him or help him, Charles figured that going towards that light would be his best option.  So he started to drift towards it, floating through the inky blackness.

As he got closer and closer, he was intrigued by the light.  It was very, very bright, yet not painful to the eyes.  He could look at it without experiencing any pain at all, a most fascinating thing.  Going quicker, he floated up to the light, and then went into it.  For a moment there was nothing but light…and then it receded to reveal a large set of silver, pearl encrusted gates, beyond which lay a large, green valley.

There was a desk there, and a large lady in a white robe with a scroll and pen. 

"Name?"  She asked.
 
Charles looked at her.  "What?"

"Your name please."

"Excuse me…but can you tell me where I am?"

"You are at the entrance to the afterlife."  She said, obviously having gotten this question a lot.  "And this is where you find out where you'll go.  Now may I please have your name?"  She pulled the scroll in front of her more open."

"You mean…that's heaven?"  Charles asked, pointing towards the valley beyond the gate.

"More or less, yes.  But you can't go anywhere withought telling me your name.  Now, what is it?"

"Charles.  Charles Dubskin."

The woman looked the scroll over for a few moments before replying.  "Ah, yes, there you are."

"So…do I get to go in?"  Charles asked hopefully.

The woman looked at the scroll, as if reading something.  "Hmm…we didn't live a very good life, did we Mr. Dubskin?"

Charles suddenly felt a slight twist in his gut.

"You know that we don't look kindly upon serial killers, right?  Isn't that what everyone told you down on earth?"

"Uhh…"  Charles stammered, suddenly at a loss for words…and feeling very, very afraid.  "Does this mean that…that I'm going to…"

"Hell?"  The woman said.  "Well, maybe, but that depends."

That was an unexpected answer.  "What?" 

"There are infinitely many heavens and hells in the afterlife Mr. Dubskin."  The woman explained.  "One man's hell is another's heaven and vice versa.  Now, we do things a bit differently then you were told about on earth.  We're going to see if we can rehabilitate you, so to speak.  It won't be quick or easy but if it works, you'll be a brand new man."

"Rehabilitate?" 

Leaning down, the woman scribbled something on the scroll.  "Please go through the door to your right please." 

A door had suddenly appeared to the right of the desk, right next to Charles, a completely unassuming, ordinary door.  It didn't appear threatening, but then again, appearances could be deceiving, and Charles didn't like the idea of walking into a mysterious door.  He turned and looked at the woman.  "What if I don't want to?"

"Then you'll stay here until you decide to go through."  The woman didn't even look up from the scroll as she continued to scribble.  "You won't be sent to hell if you go through the door Mr. Dubskin.  Now please, they're waiting for you.  It's not polite to keep them waiting."

Gulping, not liking the idea of what was happening, Charles somehow knew that one way or another, he was going to have to go into that door.  Best perhaps to get it over with.  Walking up to the door, Charles took the handle, turned, and opened the door.  There was, like earlier, a bright light, from which Charles couldn't see anything behind.  Mustering what courage he had, Charles took a few tentative steps into the light…and then it receeded, revealing what it had been hiding.

Charles saw a sight that he would have rather not seen while in life, for it signaled death, decay, loss of freedom.  Seeing it here made it even worse, for he found himself standing in what appeared to be an enormous prison that stretched out to infinity, filled with row after row of cells that went up high to infinity, and that stretched down into infinity.

An endless prison…  "Nothing to fear my ass!"  Charles thought, turning to run right back through the door…only to find that it was one.  There was nothing to go into.

Before he could move, react, or even think about running elsewhere, two large beings came up to him…genderless, clothed in grey robes, they gently took him by the shoulders and began to move him towards a cell.

"Hey!"  Charles called out, struggling under their touch.  He managed to easily break free, running and pressing himself up against a guardrail.  "Who are you?!"  He said.  "Where am I?!"

"We are the keepers of this place."  One said, it's voice genderless.  "It is a holding place for those waiting for trial."

"Trial?!"  Charles didn't like the sound of that.  "What do you mean Trial?!"  They had a court in the afterlife?!  Weren’t things like that not supposed to exist here? 

"The trial is a normal thing for those in this place."  The other keeper said.  "Everyone must go, for it determines what will happen to them and where they will go.  Yours will begin shortly, but you need to be kept here until then."

"Like hell I am!"  Charles snapped.  He was looking around frantically, seeing a place to run, to escape, to hide.  But all there was were walkways and cells that stretched out to infinity.

"It will not be hard or uncomfortable."  The first keeper said, its voice clam and gentle.  "You will not be hurt or harmed."  Snapping it's fingers, the being waited for a moment.  Charles wondered what they were doing when he suddenly found himself going stiff, suddenly unable to move. 

"Hey!"

"We are sorry, but we must do this on those who will not cooperate.  Now come."  Another snap of the fingers and Charles's body began to float helplessly after the keepers.  He tried and tried to move, to struggle, but it was as if a forcefield was holding him in place, preventing any movement at all.  He was, Charles realized, completely at the mercy of his captors. 

They reached a cell, completely identical to the infinite number of other cells like it.  The barred door opened, revealing a cell that was medium size with two bunks mounted into concrete walls.  Everything was a simple grey color, neutral and unthreatening.  The other bunk was already occupied…by a large leather bodybag.

"What the hell?!" Charles thought.  "What's that doing here?!""

Rather unexpectedly, the force holding Charles still was suddenly gone.  It was unexpected enough that Charles found himself on the floor, where he quickly got to his feet.  But the keepers were standing on both sides of him, their tall presence indicating that he wasn't going anywhere.  "Why is that in there?!"  He asked, pointing towards the bodybag, which was obviously holding someone. 

"He has earned that."  One keeper said gently.  "Now come, please step into this."  The other keeper held up an identical black leather bodybag with internal sleeves for arms and legs. 

"What?"  Charles said horrified.  "I have to get into that?!"

"All must wear one while waiting for trial."  The other keeper said gently.  "To keep them safe and secure.  You won't wear it for long."

Charles didn't want to wear the bag, was dead set against it…going into one, loosing his freedom, becoming a captive…that was unacceptable.

"We will give you a choice."  The first keeper said, it's voice gentle.  "You may enter it of your own free will, or we will put you in." 

Looking at the bag, Charles stared at it, every instinct telling him to do whatever possible to avoid getting inside there and becoming a prisoner.  But…if there was one thing worse then becoming a prisoner, it was becoming one against one's will, rather then by choice.  And with the way the two keepers had spoken…there was clearly no arguing the point that one way or another, he was going to have to wear the bodybag. 

"Here."  The first keeper said.  "Perhaps this will help you feel more comfortable."  The being snapped its fingers and Charles suddenly found himself naked.  But it was only for a moment before his body was covered with, of all things, a skin tight black rubber bodysuit that covered everything except his eyes.  To Charles's shocked surprise, even his mouth was plugged full of rubber, as were his nostrils, yet he could still breathe somehow.  "Most here enjoy the sensation of being touched by rubber."  The keepers seemed amused by the fact.

"Mmmph?  Mmmmrrpphhh!"

Charles tried to say something, but with his mouth completely plugged, it was impossible.  Reaching up, his rubber coated fingers felt only solid rubber covering his mouth.  A sudden horrible thought came to mind, wondering if he was ever going to speak again.  "Mmmpphhh!!!"

"Do not be frightened."  The second keeper said.  "It is only temporary."

A hand gently went around Charles's arm, gently taking it and gesturing for him to move into the bag.  It almost pulled him, but Charles, through his shock, decided to just get it over with.  He slowly walked over to the bag, rubber covered feet squeaking on the floor.

Gently maneuvering Charles, the keepers gently coaxed his legs into the long sleeves, then his rubber covered arms into their own sleeves.  Charles cooperated, pushing them in deep, trying to keep his fear in check. 

When he was fully in, sleeves filled, one of the keepers took him by his shoulders and held him upright while the other flicked a finger.  Near Charles's feet there was movement.  He glanced down at the bag's feet, saw a zipper slowly moving up, tightening the bag as it quickly reached Charles's neck.  Another flick and black leather straps suddenly went around the bag, tightening it and compressing the body inside.

With his restraints applied, Charles, unsurprisingly, could barely move.  Wiggle a big, squirm as well, but otherwise he was tied in tightly. 

The keepers snapped both their fingers and Charles found himself floating over towards the spare bunk, where he was gently laid down, a firm mattress supporting his body.  A few more straps came around the bag and secured him to the bunk, ensuring his immobility. 

"You will not be here long."  One of the keepers said.  "We will return for you shortly."  They left the cell and the door slid shut, locking itself.  The beings left, and Charles was left in the cell, wrapped up, bagged, and strapped down to the bed.

He instinctively wiggled for a bit, trying out his restraints.  But they refused to give or budge, ensuring his immobility.  There was no way he was getting out.  But at least it was comfortable, tight as it all was.  All he could do now, Charles realized, was wait and see what was going to happen to him.

"So, what are you in for?" 

The voice was a bit startling to Charles, considering how it came out of nowhere. 

"Over here, to your left."

Turning his rubber covered head, Charles looked over at the bodybag (identical to his) lying on the bunk on the other side of the cell.  There was a gasmask over the occupant's head, hiding the face, but the voice revealed that the bag's occupant was a male.  "We can talk telepathically."  The voice said.  "If you're like me, your mouth is filled with rubber, no?"

"Uhm…yes."  Charles thought.  There was a telepathic laugh.

"Ah good, you're catching on quickly."

Charles cut right to the chase.  "Where are we?" he asked.

"In a prison…but I'm sure you've figured that out already."

"Yes."

"Well, this is where they keep the bad people, so to speak.  Folks like you and me.  Those not good enough for heaven.  They have to wait here before finding out where they're going."

Charles thought for a moment, filled with dread.  "Do most people here to go to hell?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Look, I'm locked in this cell like you.  I'm not omnipotent you know.  So…with that said, what are you here for?"

Charles hesitated.

"Ah…it was something bad I assume.  Those who don't talk about what they did usually did the really bad stuff."

"I was a serial killer in life." Charles admitted.

The man in the bodybag was silent for a moment.  "Oh."

"Killed thirty people before I was gunned down while trying to kill my thirty first."

"Eggh…"  The man in the other bodybag thought for a moment, as if remembering something.  "Are you sorry you did it?"

"To be honest…"  Charles admitted.  "Not really."

A whistle of disappointment.  "Oh…that's bad.  Really bad.  If I may ask, why did you do it?"

Charles tried to shrug, but the bodybag prevented it.  "It just turned me on."  Charles said truthfully.  "I got excited doing it.  The power, the control…the ability to have sex with them before I killed them.  Two orgasms, every single time."

"Hmm…"  There was some wiggling within the other bag.  "Interesting…"

"What's so interesting?"

A giggle.  "Oh…you remind me of when I was alive."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, my life was apparently the same as yours, right down to all the deaths and killings.  Your comment about those orgasms was right on my friend, right on!  But I got a hundred people when I was alive!"  A giggle.  "Ah man…good times."

The man's enthusiasm was starting to creep Charles out, making him uncomfortable.  He figured it was best to change the subject.  "How long have you been here?"  Charles asked.  "Those beings said that I…"

"Wouldn't wait long?  No, you won't.  I was only in for a little bit before I went up a few centuries ago." 

Charles did a double take.  "What?" 

"Yep.  My trial was centuries ago"

"But…why are you still here?"  Charles asked, startled. 

"Well, if you must know, this is my sentence.  I got an eternity in prison, locked in this bodybag."

If he had been startled before, that was nothing compared to what Charles felt now.

"What?!"

"Oh, it's not that bad really."  The other man assured him.  "He said that perhaps my story would serve as a warning of sorts to others, to help them try and avoid the same fate.  So I got spared the flames for a concrete cell and a bodybag for all time.  But it's not so bad.  I get lots of company to keep myself occupied.  And maybe…"  He giggled.  "An orgasm or two every now and then."  The bag wiggled and squirmed, but not much considering the restraints that were the same as Charles's bag.

Charles's mind raced, swamped with a sudden fear.  A life sentence?  Here in the afterlife!?  The thought that it was possible at all chilled him to the core.  "But…but that's not fair!"

"Hey, I don't really regret all the killing I did."  The man said.  "I liked it and it was fun.  Remember what I said about the really bad people?  Well, I'm one of them." 

"But…I mean…"

Pausing, the man thought for a moment.  "I've thought about it for a long time…I'm going to be here forever…but you know what?  I accept that.  Far better then burning, you know?  Or being buried alive.  I remember the gal before me got an eternity of being buried.  She was a really nasty chick, didn't care about anything at all, just wanted to be left alone.  So it turns out she got what she wanted."  The other man giggled.  "Ironic, don't ya think?"

Charles stared at the man, wondering if he was insane, crazy, or just plain nuts.  How could he possibly be so cheerful considering his fate?  He tried to think of something else to talk about, but the only thought that came to mind was about the woman.  "But…why would they bury that woman like that?  That sounds so cruel."

"Well, I didn't hear too much about what she did in life, but apparently she was even worse then the two of us, if that's even possible.  Apparently buried folks alive after kidnapping them.  Really sick shit.  I mean, yeah I killed people, but I would never be that cruel to them."

Charles started to wonder if he was starting to go nuts, just listening to the man.  Best to try and change the subject.  "What's with the gasmask?"  He asked.

"Oh, this?  I like them and they let me wear it.  Small condolence for spending eternity here, ya know?" 

Charles was wondering what to say next, or if to say anything at all, but that was the moment when the keepers returned.  Sensing movement near the door, Charles looked over, saw the two of them standing near the cell door that was now being opened.  "Well, looks like it's your time buddy."  The man with the gasmask said.  "Hope you don't end up back here…of course, this is better then any flames anyday."

"Charles."  One of the keepers said.  "It's time."  More fingers waved and the straps holding Charles to the bed were unbuckled.  He floated through the air and through the open cell door. 

"Bye Charles."  The man in the cell said.  The door was closed, and Charles was floated away as the keepers walked down the walkway.  He tried to look back, to see the other man one more time, but they were already past the cell, which was now fading into anonymity among the countless others.

As they went, Charles thought back to what the man had said, what his own fate was.  Floating, he had the chance to glance in the other cells.  In each he saw the same thing …two bodybags strapped down to bunks.  With each occupant he couldn't tell who was a male and who was a female, so compressed were the bags around each body.  He wondered, grimly, if any of them had been given life sentences, so to speak, to spend the rest of eternity in this limitless prison.

He shuddered at the thought.

After a few more moments of floating down the halls, Charles came to an abrupt stop.  The keepers had stopped at a rather large door between two cells.  It was tall and made of steel and gave no hint of what was behind it.

They flicked their fingers and the bodybag was suddenly unstrapped and unzipped, gently falling away from Charles's body.  He was set on the floor, standing, but still wearing his rubber bodysuit, mouth still plugged with rubber. 

"Charles, the time has come for you to stand trial for what you did in life."  One of the keepers said gently.  "You will go through that door and meet the judge.  He will ask you some questions.  Answer them truthfully, as any lies you speak will be detected instantly.  There are no secrets in the trial room."

Charles gulped.  Fear began to spread through him.  A life of being a serial killer was not going to get much sympathy or mercy, that much he figured.  The keepers saw his nervousness. 

"Be honest and do not fear."  The other keeper said.  "The judge is fair and will consider all the facts, including what you think, before passing a verdict."

A hand went onto his shoulder and slowly turned Charles around.    While the keepers had been talking, the door behind them had soundlessly opened, revealing a bright light similar to what Charles had seen upon dying.  He stared at it for a few moments, gripped with fear of what lay beyond.  But not for long, as another hand gently pushed him forward.

Gulping, Charles stumbled awkwardly, found his footing.  He slowly (very slowly) walked forward and into the bright light…

For a moment there was nothing but light…and then it receded and Charles found himself inside a large, circular room.  It wasn't unlike courtrooms on earth.  There was nothing ethereal about it or mystical.  Just an ordinary wooden room with a table in front of him and beyond that a large pulpit where the judge would sit. 

There was a judge in the pulpit, sitting tall and high, an intimidating presence.  He looked vaguely human, dressed in a grey robe.  He wasn't looking at Charles at the moment, glancing down instead towards a door.  On either side of that pulpit were two doors.  The door on the right was closed.  The one on the left was open and beyond it could be seen what looked like the ragged tunnels of a subterranean cave.  A woman, wearing a rubber bodysuit, was being led inside by what appeared to be more keepers, her hands and ankles shackled together.  Charles got a brief glimpse of her grief stricken face before the door was closed and locked with a very audible click. 

"Charles Dubskin."  Gulping, Charles looked up towards the judge.  His voice was calm, gentle, but there was a strong feeling of power behind it…yet fairness as well.  Charles found himself praying that what his keepers had said earlier about the judge being fair still stood. 

There was a sudden tingling sensation and Charles felt the rubber in his mouth recede, allowing him the ability to speak.  "That is your name, is it not?"  The judge asked.

"Uhh…Yes?"

"Very well."  Pulling out a scroll, the judged looked it over.  "Charles Dubskin, lived to be thirty years old, no family…a serial killer in life."  The scroll was put down.  "Is that information correct?"

"Are you God?"  Charles asked.

"No."  The judge said.  "Just one of those tasked with keeping order.  Now, is what I told you about your life correct?"

It was tempting, for a moment, to lie, but Charles remembered what the keepers had said. 

He gulped.  "Yes."

The judge nodded.  "Very well.  Mr. Dubskin, the taking of life in a cruel and senseless manner is never appropriate.  Do you understand that?"

Charles gulped again, sensing that this was not going well at all.  "Yes."

"I have reviewed your life," the judge said, indicating the scroll in front of him.  "And have come to a sentence that I believe is fair and just.  Before I give my decision I will give you a chance to speak.  Is there anything you wish to say?"

Charles thought for a few moments.  "What happened to that woman?"  He asked, indicating the door to the left.

"She will wander in darkness for fifty years."  The judge said.  "For she was a con artist who stole from others without remorse.  During her time in darkness she will be able to think about the crimes she did on earth."  The judge looked at Charles.  "Is that all you wish to say?"

If there ever was a moment where Charles was close to panic, it was then.  If a con artist who stole from others would get that fate, then what would a serial killer get?  He thought back to the man in the cell.  Was his sentence to be an eternity in a cell?  An eternity buried?  He was sweating bullets. 

Aware that the judge was looking at him, waiting for an answer, Charles knew he had to say something.  But what?  What could he possibly say to avoid the horrible punishment that no doubt awaited him? 

But from out of the blue, a thought came to him.  Something the other man had said.  Inconsequential at the time, it suddenly felt as if he had found the holy grail.  "Yes."  He said, praying that he was saying the right words.  "I do."

"Go on."

"I know I don't feel any remorse for what I've done.  I'll be honest with that."  Charles admitted.  "But I don't want to go to hell forever…or spend eternity in a cell for that matter."  He was drenched in sweat, tried to keep his voice steady.  "Is there a way I can…uhh…get the chance to make up for what I've done?"

The judge looked at Charles, his face unreadable, none of his features giving away what he was thinking.  Charles continued to shake and sweat and he grabbed himself to try and stop the shaking.  Had he given the right answer?  He had tried to be sincere...wouldn't that count for something?

For a few more moments the judge looked at Charles and then smiled.  "A very wise answer Mr. Dubskin."

Charles glanced up, feeling a tiny spark of hope.  Did this mean he wasn't going to go to hell after all?

"In this court each soul is given a sentence that is fair and appropriate.  Because you have shown a willingness to atone for what you have done, Charles Dubskin, you will be sent to a place where you will be given a chance to learn remorse.  You will stay there for thirty years and upon completion of your time, we will review your case.  If you have learned remorse, you will be released to move on.  If not…we shall decide what action shall be taken at that time."  The judge tapped a gavel on the wood.  "This is the verdict of this court.  Case closed."

For a few moments Charles felt nothing…but that didn't last long before a sudden surge of sheer relief washed through him.  Thirty years…that was all he was getting…thirty years.  A short time indeed compared to the rest of time.

But…the judge hadn't said where he would go to learn remorse, nor had he given any details.  Charles suddenly realized that the place he could be going to was a deep dungeon somewhere where he would be forced into some kind of horrible torture for every single moment of those thirty years.

His sudden unease was interrupted when he suddenly felt rubber coming into his mouth once again, plugging it up and preventing speech.  But that wasn't the end of the surprises in store for him, for there was a sudden sensation of weight coming upon his wrists.  Looking at his rubber covered arms Charles was surprised to see heavy ceramic shackles locking themselves around his wrists…and was surprised to feel his arms being drawn behind his back, where the shackles connected themselves.  There was movement near his feet and upon glancing down, Charles saw that more shackles were locking themselves around his rubber covered ankles.

Restraints?  Was he going to spend all of those thirty years locked up like this, barely able to move?  That appeared, to his disappointment, to be the case.  

The door to the left of the judge's pulpit was opened.  Understanding that he was supposed to go into it, Charles slowly began to walk towards it, moving as quickly as his ankle shackles would allow him to do so.  The fact that they were heavy and unyielding didn't help much.

Slowly, bit by bit, he finally reached the doorway.  Gulping, fearing what he would see, he glanced inside. 

There was no long, cave like tunnel that he had seen the woman being taken into.  There was a long hallway of steel now, with an elevator at the end.  Glancing back, Charles saw the judge looking at him.  His gaze showed that there wasn't going to be an appeal. 

Gulping, Charles realized that there was no turning back, not now.  He would just have to go through with whatever was coming.  He took a deep breath and walked inside, just as another rubber covered inmate was brought into the court.

The door closed behind him.  Some torches mounted in the walls came to life, flames dancing from the embers.  Walking slowly, Charles went down the hallway, aware that it was deathly quiet.  There was no sound save for his rubber footsteps. 

Reaching the elevator, he wondered briefly how it was going to be opened with his hands locked behind his back.  He needn't have worried, for the doors opened on their own accord, revealing a bare, steel elevator.

His fear was coming back, even as Charles slowly stepped onto the elevator and turned around.  There were two buttons set in the wall, one for up…and one for down.

The down button was lit. 

As the doors closed and unseen machinery began to whirl and turn, Charles had a few moments to himself, his mind thinking…wondering…about what was about to come.  Though the surroundings were not pleasant, he didn't get a sense of evil or hopelessness around him.  Just the sense that whatever was going to happen was going to happen.

Still…he thought, just as the elevator began to move down, wherever he was going, whatever was going to happen, he was only going to be there for thirty years…eventually he would come back this way and, if he learned his lesson…would be released to move to whatever was beyond this place.

But for now…it was time to begin his afterlife.

The elevator moved, then slowly went down.  In the hallway above there was no one to watch as the elevator sank from sight, vanishing into the darkness.

There was a slight breeze and the torches went out.

Edited by Darkraptor1 - Jan-08-2008 at 00:53

What did you expect from him? Darkraptor is a sort of jr. David Hopkins that describes God as a mercyless parent that loves to see his own children suffering. Plus or minus like Bible describes him.


Edited by Hypercat - Jan-07-2008 at 19:19

Originally posted by Hypercat What did you expect from him? Darkraptor is a sort of jr. David Hopkins that describes God as a mercyless parent that loves to see his own children suffering. Plus or minus like Bible describes him.

The judge in the story is not God.  I should have written it in, but he's not God.

Originally posted by phoebe Though now you confuse me with your comment of the judge not being God. So tell me who is this person who has the power to sentence eternally? I do wonder what you did to your story when you gave your last edit because I'm now seeing lots of little almost Cyrillic-like symbols mixed in with it that I didn't see when I first read it.

I left his identity up to the reader's imagination.

As to the odd symbols, those seem to pop in whenever I do an edit, so I did not intentionally put them there, I assure you.

Otherwise, I'm glad you liked the story!

That would make sense. Humans can be so cruel, deceptive and mercyless. Even with theirselves.