Afterlife

It was late at night in a remote warehouse on the outskirts of a small town in Spain. The Third World War had left its mark on the entire European continent, transforming wide areas into lawless territory.

In these ages, mafias ruled the cities, not bound by any jurisdiction.

Dust motes danced in the stark overhead lights of the warehouse, illuminating three rough-looking men circling a chair.

In the chair sat Zayn, a black-haired boy no older than fifteen with his hands tied up behind his back by makeshift ropes of torn blankets. 

The tallest of the three, standing in the center, wore a baseball cap depicting a fearsome pirate skull. He sounded genuinely confused as he repeated the question.

"Okay. So one last time. Why should we leave you alive?"

The teen's black eyes sparked with confidence. A bead of sweat traced a path down his tanned skin under the harsh glare. 

Inside, Zayn was already making calculations.

One visible gun, just one light source, a single exit, and a fire extinguisher  

He grimaced; his situation was quite bleak indeed. A dangerous plan began forming in his mind. His mother would have fainted if she had seen what he was doing. 

"Because you won't know where the hidden weapon stash is if I'm dead." 

The words were calm and conversational, a stark contrast to the frantic rhythm of his heart. 

The men exchanged quick glances. Another one, burly and with eyes too close together, interjected. 

"But we could just torture you until you spit it out."

The third, on the right, nodded. 

"Much easier."

A big smile appeared on the teen's face. He continued happily, seemingly encouraged by their dreadful statement.

"You are right! But that would take a lot of time!" 

He leaned forward slightly, his voice dripping with mockery.

"Your boss didn't seem like he was in the best mood the last time I saw him. Would he really—"

Skull Cap interrupted him.

"Is this midget actually threatening us?" 

The silenced Glock, which had been resting idly on a nearby desk, was now leveled squarely at Zayn's face. 

"I have a better idea... why don't we just kill him right now? Absolutely no one will mourn his death." 

There it is — the rage.

Zayn's heart hammered a steady drumbeat against his ribs, but his mind stayed a fortress of ice. Fear was a luxury.

A large hand cut in between the pistol's shooting line. It belonged to the burly man. 

"He's not wrong though... if the boss finds out that all his weapons are gone..." 

Zayn's internal smile widened.

Got them.  

Skull Cap ground his teeth, his attention momentarily diverted from Zayn, the Glock slumping to his side. "Don't believe a single word of what this little clown has to say. He's just trying to—" 

The moment was perfect. All three men were absorbed in their petty bickering and had completely forgotten about the tied-up boy in front of them. 

It was now or never. Do or don't. Never try — just do, that was his motto.

Zayn flexed his lean muscles, lifting the chair along with his tied hands. Before the three thugs could even react to his attempt, the black haired boy spun around like a whirlwind, causing the wooden chair to crash into Skull Cap, sending him flying to the ground. 

The tall man's surprised face was worth all the trouble as he squirmed on the ground. 

"ARGH." 

He screamed in rage. 

"FORGET IT. JUST KILL HIM!" 

Skull Cap was just about to raise his gun as Zayn's right leg shot forward, performing a vertical roundhouse kick, right at the overhead lamp. 

The deafening shattering of the lamp caused glass fragments to be blasted all over the room, cutting into the skin of everyone present. 

Zayn had already memorized the room's layout beforehand and propelled himself towards the exit. 

His right arm, which had been freed by the impact, swung back and snatched the fire extinguisher from the wall. He hurled it behind him as a last safety mechanism.

And sure enough, a shot echoed through the dark, followed by a hiss and a deafening thump. The pressurized carbon dioxide erupted with a loud bang, breaking free from its constraints and filling the room with white fog in seconds.

Zayn didn't look back as he burst through the door like a phantom into the night. The chair still hung awkwardly from his left arm, slowing down his escape.

The cool night air felt incredible after the suffocating heat of the warehouse. He sprinted away and ducked behind a shipping container to fully free himself from the chair.

He felt exhilarated and satisfied, even if death had been dangerously close. It had become a regular occurrence by now.

His mind raced to calculate possible escape routes as he sat behind the container. He could take a risk and just run straight back to his hideout.

But the boss probably expected that from him, and Zayn had caused their gang enough trouble to warrant a large-scale search. He would be caught, even before making it to the survivor camp.

And even if he did, they would likely need to take the blame for him to ease the boss's rage. Zayn did not want that. They took him in when he was at his lowest after his mother's death, and he never forgot favors.

The tanned boy decided. He would enter the nearby forest and wait out their search for a few days.

Zayn was just about to enter the last phase of his escape when a sudden voice sounded from right next to him. Dangerously close.

"Wow." 

Never in his life had Zayn turned faster. In shock, he just stared at the man opposite him. 

How!? I heard no footsteps!

"Never thought I'd get to see such a fate one day."

The man saying this looked like a normal service worker. Dressed in a blue tracksuit with a square face, he was the epitome of mediocrity. Except for his eyes.

They were a deep shade of red, with a single golden triangle embedded in each iris. His gaze was unnervingly penetrating, as if he could see right through the black haired boy, at something beyond him.

Zayn finally shook off his stupor and swung at the creepy worker. Better safe than sorry.

The man easily stopped it with a lazy swipe of his hand.

"No need to get violent."

He paused.

"You seem like a perfect candidate though."

Zayn's mind raced. He had to get out of here; the thugs from earlier were probably already on their way. Creepy eyes or not, his time here was over. 

Zayn turned on the spot and ran.

The cleaning man suddenly pulled a gun from his pocket and cupped his hands to his mouth, enthusiastically shouting after the sprinting escapee.

"Hey! Meet me at the top of the spire!"

Zayn turned his head in confusion and saw the gun pointed right at his head.

You've gotta be fu—

Bang. 

Silence ensued.

The red-eyed service worker quietly stared at the teenage corpse laying just a few meters away from him.

A quiet sigh escaped him.

"Haah, seriously. Just what was that old man thinking...?"

"Why would he involve a normal boy in this?" 

The triangles in the cleaner's eyes faded, and a normal shade of brown remained. Upon seeing the bloody corpse before him, the man let out a terrified scream.

A murder had happened. 

***

Zayn was slowly sinking into a lull of comfort. His mind became increasingly heavy, only granting him fleeting moments of working consciousness.

No attempts at moving any parts of his body reaped results. It was as if he had lost them entirely.

Endless darkness extended in all directions. The only light source was a caravan of thousands of bright light spheres traveling in the same direction.

Zayn seemed to be wandering alongside them.

A memory made its way up Zayn's consciousness, revealing a stony cathedral surrounded by four harrowing towers atop a floating island.

The illuminated spheres were still present, now passing through an enormous gate. At the island's end, they separated into three individual streams.

When it was Zayn's turn to float into the gate, he was abruptly jerked sideways, pulled away from the island as if attracted by a faraway, unseen force.

He accelerated deeper into the darkness, away from the assembly of lights.

There was just one last scene he remembered before fully losing himself in the comfort. Multiple shattered islands came into view, each hued in an alien blue light. Their obvious decay made them look like no one had visited for at least a few thousand years. 

Zayn's mind reached its limit at this point, and everything turned black again.

***

Zayn had to blink many times until his eyes adjusted to the dark environment. The only source of light was a looming spire in the distance, coating the island in a bluish hue.

The black haired teen tried standing up. And succeeded. Slightly frowning, Zayn exclaimed out loud:

"H-huh. I have a body again."

A very naked body, but a body nonetheless. 

Zayn felt extremely healthy for some reason. A swirling energy in his center strengthened his muscles, and it felt like a lock that restrained him since birth had finally been broken.

He shivered as a cold wind touched his skin, immediately causing him to become aware of his situation again. He was not on Earth.

"Where the hell am I?" 

Based on the terrain around him, he might as well have been at the bottom of the ocean. Coral-like trees covered the desolate and rocky ground. They came in all sorts of colors and grew on everything they could find. That included bigger, hill-like structures, completely grey and consisting of a weird type of slate stone.

Below Zayn's naked feet, blue sand and small stones became an assembly of alien material. 

His heart began to thump louder as it dawned upon him what had happened.

I was shot! That creepy cleaner actually killed me!

What did he say again? To meet him at the spire?

Zayn's gaze analyzed his surroundings, immediately noticing the tallest landmark in the area. A spire at least a few hundred meters tall stood majestically overlooking the rest of the fractured island.

Did that guy know I would come here?

How am I even alive in the first place?

The black haired boy let out a shaky breath.

"Calm down. It's just another unknown territory. Act like you always do."

Zayn tried comforting himself, but he had never been kidnapped by an alien force before. He still knew what needed to be done, though.

A shelter, that's what I need. And time to think about all of this.

He continued out loud. 

"As well as some clothes. It's seriously cold out here…"

He needed to hear something—anything, even if it was just his own voice. The darkness was slowly driving him crazy. 

At this point, Zayn could never have fathomed what awaited him on these islands. What pain, what despair, and what responsibilities would be forced upon him. But since he did not know yet, Zayn started humming to himself and began wandering around the area.