Their World After Death

On a cold, concrete floor under what used to be central Kansas, a priest lays on his back, his arms extended out to both sides. The vibrancy of the flickering, fluorescent lights make his bright, blue, eyes appear as if they are glowing. As hours slowly pass, the priest reminds himself to blink when he feels his eyes become drier than the short, summer grass growing above him. The priest does this every night and has since the day he and the small remainder of humans awoke in the bunker twelve days ago. The priest will continue this nightly routine, his only escape, until he dies of a heart attack four days later.

After the great war, nearly all of the 20 people who survived have existed in a constant state of dread, similar to the priest, attempting to comprehend the unavoidable nature of their afterlife.

While some scientists worked to find remedies for the few medical abnormalities that were yet to be cured by the year 2092, a small team studied death. This team of scientists specialized in preserving the recently deceased and bringing them back to life in preparation for the upcoming nuclear war. During the height of their experiments, 80 major cities around the world had already perished.

By the final day of the war, these five scientists had created enough machines to bring 20 people back to life 200 years after the nuclear waste which killed all life on earth had dissolved. The people invited to join were chosen based on their skills and potential to contribute to the new world that they expected to build. Among the people permitted to survive were one immediate family member of each scientist, two botanists who specialized in the growth of synthetic food, two doctors, two educators, two soldiers, one engineer and one priest.

FIVE MINUTES BEFORE THE FINAL MISSILE.

“I, I don’t know if I can do this. It just doesn’t feel right to leave all of these people to die while we get to survive.”

“Honey, there’s no time, you have to get in. This is the only way.”

“But, what about the others, the ones who survive the initial blast from the bombs, what are they going to do? Jesus, they, they’ll suffer, they’ll be all... fucked up by the radiation, I don’t know! And what about our-”

“Scarlet, listen to me! This is our only chance. Jesus, this is humanity’s only chance.”

Although secured in a bunker 100 feet below ground, Scarlet, her husband and the other 18 chosen ones could still hear the sounds of anguish occurring above them. Scarlet looked around what would soon be the last humans on Earth, most of whom seemed to be having similar conversations with their loved ones in preparation to enter their survival pods. It was truly a cursed moment for Scarlet, knowing that she, by chance of marrying a scientist who developed the technology to allow their bodies to be revived 200 years after death, got to live while the world around her perished. What was worse, however, was trying to imagine what would happen to the two month old baby that was growing inside of her.

With a bang that caused the ceiling above them to shake, Scarlet embraced her husband one final time and laid down on her back in the pod filled with dense, cold, liquid. He kissed her passionately and whispered goodbye while pulling up on a thick, metal zipper. As the last of the light disappeared, she grabbed hold of her mother’s heart-shaped locket around her neck and said a prayer for her child. Then, she felt her body seize from the shock that she knew would kill her and everything went grey.

Although the 20 people chosen to rebuild the world knew they would be dead for 200 years, not one of them foresaw what the determinants of experiencing the afterlife would have on their psyche.

From the moment of their deaths to the time they would awake, the twenty people entered a state of consciousness that no human had ever before lived to tell.

It was a reality of grey and white noise. Every human who had ever lived existed in this strange continuance, the afterlife, however, there was no sense of being, no sense of self and no consciousness aside from the pure acknowledgement of existence. It was as if every human on earth was simply a state of energy, not knowing who they were, what life was, what the world was, what emotions were, but somehow, being conscious of their occurrence. It was not peaceful. Instead it was as if the entire human race resided in a meaningless, blender of grey matter with no escape and no potential for anything more or less.

When it came time for the 20 people to be revived, the pods sent a violent shock through the liquid that had been preserving them and pulled them from the torment that they would soon comprehend to be the afterlife.

As the sound of the zipper opening opposed to the white noise of death awakened her senses, Scarlet was sent into an alarming panic. She could not quite open her eyes, and her limbs were excruciatingly numb. Above the sounds of her sudden hyperventilation were the painful screams of the others awakening from their pods. Her first emotion was an overwhelming sense of gratitude to be hearing such pain and emotion, something she grieved 200 years ago when she entered the pod. Quickly, however, panic overcame all other emotions and she was sent into an unavoidable frenzy.

As some slowly began to comprehend the nature of their revival, others focused more on the understanding of the imminent doom of the afterlife of humanity.

Scarlet laid there, immersed in the gooey liquid, listening to the chaos around her.

“That ca- that that, that CAN’T be it,” someone yelled in the pod to the right of her.

“There’s nothing!” she heard in the far end of the room.

These remarks continued as well as many incoherent wails and pleads to a god that everyone now knew clearly did not exist. Amongst her own distress, however, Scarlet could only focus on the thought of her child, wondering about it’s survival, hoping not only that it was alive, but that it was not able to comprehend what death would be like.

DAY TEN OF LIFE AFTER DEATH.

Within the first ten days of life in the new world, nine people had perished due to complications. One person died from respiratory failure, three due organ failure, and five of the surviving members died during manic episodes that could only be attributed to the trepidation of what was to come. Of the remaining eleven people, all existed in a zombie-like state, brain-dead, but still trying to exist if only to avoid the inevitable state of their death.

As some tried like puppets to put together a camp outside of the bunker, on a land that was nourished only by the extraordinary heat of the sun, Scarlet seeked comfort in listening to the sound of her baby’s heartbeat through a stethoscope. Along with the others, she was in a constant state of confusion, paranoia and anguish, however, the life growing inside of her provided an escape.

As the others around her continued to try to regain their humanity, Scarlet sat, day after day, against the crumbling walls of their bunker, listening to the heartbeat. She found it nearly impossible to do anything else but focus the steady drumming. For months, Scarlet stayed below ground in the dank bunker, nourishing herself from the dry food kept in storage, not once pondering why her husband never came down to check on her. In fact, aside from the effects of the initial period of adrenaline the survivors had upon awakening, no one was able to feel or do anything aside from the bare minimum of survival tactics.

NINE MONTHS AFTER DEATH

On the day of her daughter’s birth, Scarlet was the sole survivor. Her body, skin and bone, was frail to the point that she no longer had the strength to lift herself up from the pool of urine and feces in which she was encompassed. Her ears were dry and bloody from the molded stethoscope, and her fingers were raw to the bone from rubbing the heart-shaped locket she pulled from her mother’s corpse centuries ago.

As her contractions began, she barely made a sound. Scarlet knew she was in pain, however she could not express the emotions to alleviate it. It was a quick labor, and within two hours, her child emerged onto the cold, concrete floor.

In the silence of the bunker, the cries of her baby seemed to shatter the concrete. In her own ears were the familiar sound of blood pumping, allowing her to remain calm.

Slowly, the howling began to replace the sound of heartbeat and Scarlet looked down at her baby, shivering in the cold air. As she looked at the child, she began to feel alive. The rosy cheeks of her newborn’s face, the raw emotion coming from her eyes and her need for affection and love. Scarlet felt herself awaken more and more. She began to feel emotion. Love. The first thing she could comprehend since her awakening.

As she scooped her baby up and brought her to her breast, Scarlet began to cry. She yelled at the top of her lungs. She laughed. And she moaned from the pain of childbirth. As her baby began to feed, the bunker fell silent, but for the first time in nine months, Scarlet felt as if she could stand it.

Scarlet, having regained parts of her humanity, raised her child in a world where other humans no longer existed. She taught her daughter the beauty of life and the glory of emotion, something she knew the two of them would eventually lose in the afterlife. Among these lessons, Scarlet told her daughter about religion, explaining the many ways humans believed their souls would carry on after death. Never once did she tell her daughter of the true nature of the afterlife, knowing that she did not deserve to worry about what was to come. After forty years of surviving, Scarlet grew ill. During the final moments of her life, Scarlet removed the necklace from around her neck and clasped it around her daughter’s, assuring her that her mother would always be with her. As Scarlet faded away, her daughter took her mother’s hand, and in full belief, whispered,

“I love you, Mom. I will see you in the afterlife.”