The Veil Between Life and Death

Ethan found himself in the middle of a dead forrest, the trees towering over him like blackened skeletons.   The featureless sky above was an unnatural sepia.
A rutted track of thick black mud followed the edge of the trees  Ethan followed the road of sorts as his boots sunk above the ankle with a squelch.   It was both sweltering and bone chilling cold as his labor sent sheets of sweat down his face which caused him to shiver 
 uncontrollably. 
After what seemed like an eternity the road opened into a wide rolling field with tall tawny grass.  Along the road were dozens of "L" shaped poles lining the road into the distance.   From the ends hung by the neck were people.  Most where dried black husks with the dried lips pulled back into ghastly grins.
A crow cawed with irritation at Ethan's intrusion as it hopped around on the shoulder of one of the hanging corpses.  Ethan blinked in realization that the crow was as dead as everything else in this land. It stared at him with empty eye sockets. Giving the corpse one final peck it spread its tattered wings and took flight. 
The field before him showed signs of an epic battle.   Smoke rose from destroyed tanks,  and aircraft.  Canon on wagon type carriages lay destroyed on their sides with broken chariots and dead horses and soldiers scattered about in the millions.  
The soldiers were equally strange as having tanks and aircraft on the same battlefield as chariots wearing everything from primitive loincloths to Terra Alphan body armor. 
Nearby a solitary man worked alongside a two wheeled cart drawn by a deathly sorrel horse with sun bleached bone poking out of its leather dry hide.
Ethan approached carefully picking his way around the endless bodies.   As he got closer Ethan announced his presence and the man jumped in surprise as he up from his toil.
"Hello," he replied flatly. He stood straight and his back popped which he grimaced in pain like someone twice his thirty odd year appearance.  He was close to Ethan's height maybe a few inches shorter.  His hair was a matted greasy brown paired with dull hazel eyes, but he had an all too familiar shape of jaw and nose that resembled Ethan's own. They were certainly related. 
"So I'm in hell?" Ethan asked. 
The man chuckled, "It seems like it doesn't it? I don't rightly know if this place even has a name, but it is a part of purgatory."
"Is this real or am I dreaming?"
"Does it feel real?" The man asked as he hefted the body of a British Redcoat into the cart.  The Redcoat's  black cocked hat was tucked under his arm.
"I'm not sure.  It feels sureal."
The man grunted in acknowledgement as he rolled a knight clad in steel plate, the curass crushed and peirce by an unknown heavy object.  The man raised the knight's visor and slammed it shut and moved onto the next body,  a German officer in the S
econd World War which with some struggle was shoved into the cart 
"What are you doing?" Ethan asked. 
"Separating the redeemable from the irredeemable," the other man replied. "These wreched souls are destined for the road." He said indicating the cart.  Our knight friend is in the same fate as I." 
He pointed to a female figure of soft blue with expansive white feathered wings off to the distance. She landed and picked up a featureless body and then flew skyward disappearing into the brown haze of the sky.  "The Valkyrie.  War dead almost always end up here because their last act in life was violence.   Most are taken up, but the rest of left up to people like me to sort through.
"So, I'm dead and supposed to do what? Help you with this gruesome task?"
The man shook his head, "You are dead, but now is not the time for you to walk the Summerlands or Shadowlands."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Ethan demanded. 
"It means now is not yet your time to shuffle off the mortal coil."
"Okay," Ethan said with a sigh. "So, who are you?"
The man shrugged,  "You don't know?  You can't see with your own eyes who I am?"
"We look to be related," Ethan replied. 
"Indeed we are. Ethan, I am your father.  Well, sperm donor anyway.  I does my heart good that you turned out not not like me.  I was a right and proper bastard," he said the last part as he indicated all around him.
Ethan didn't know how to respond.  This was the man that had tortured his mother and here he was in the flesh.  But, try as he may he couldn't find it in himself to hate the man.   Maybe it was because of the situation he was in.  Or perhaps without him Ethan wouldn't exist. 
"So, why am I here?" Ethan asked.
"How the hell should I know?" His father replied as he kneeled down next to a union soldier laying face down, and rolled him onto his back. "Oh no, you don't belong here."
Underneath the Union soldier was a young girl no older than five or six with a pair of blonde braids. Ethan's father scooped her up into his arms, and with a rag in his pocket he wiped the mud and blood from her face.  
"Papa?" She asked blindly in a French accent. 
"Shhh child. It'll be alright now," his father said in a shaking voice. "We'll get you to where you belong."
Noticing there was a doll lying where she had been,  Ethan bent down and shook it free of debris. Handing it to the girl, she f squeezed the doll tightly.