Jerry Harrison was plagued by vivid and violent dreams. 

Who are they? 

Don’t ever think it cannot happen! 

It did and Jerry’s life was changed forever. 

Aliens invade earth, and man battles for his very survival. There is desolation, grief, and loss for the masses.  

The battles, the aftermath of the devastation, the personal  insight, and the heroic deeds of bravery that will never be  forgotten are all chronicled. 

His brother had been killed. 

Jerry was out to get revenge. 


This is a fast moving action packed story that poses the question...did this really happen, or could it?  We are mere mortals on this earth and who is to say what is the real truth. Does history show it?  You be the judge. Destiny can be altered.  

In Store Price: $24.00 
Online Price:   $23.00

Format: A5 Paperback
Number of pages: 238
Genre: Science Fiction


Author: Andrew Garrett
Imprint: Poseidon
Publisher: Poseidon Books
Date Published:  2005
Language: English


Life After    

“OPEN FIRE!” Bullets flew across the air and plasma bolts burned the earth, scorching it to a dark black. Men screamed as they were torn limb from limb by the brutal creatures. I strained my eyes in the darkness to see what was attacking us in such a bloody fray. Black objects dashed around the group, picking out soldiers and killing them at will. I started shooting at the things with random determination. As I fired, I noticed one glare right at me; its vibrant red eyes glowed luminously amongst all the others. It stopped, and charged at me, pushing everyone else aside and pounced on me, knocking me to the ground. My final sight was the beast bringing its claws up high and driving them right down into my chest.  

Another nightmare, this was my second tonight. It always repeated itself, always the same setting, always the same carnage. Why wouldn’t it leave me alone? Why did it keep coming back? When would it end?

My encounters with the Virsons were not pretty ones. I saw my best friend get ripped to shreds like a piece of paper, and then my son; he foolishly joined the army despite my concerns, and was burned into ash by the largest of them all, a Vernon . All he managed to do while dying was to shoot out one of its eyes.

I still remember when my brother was killed on my wife’s birthday. A Valasyve crushed his car while he was travelling to my house to celebrate. These attacks were frequent, but nothing serious, according to the government. The military tried to stop them, but all attempts were futile. No one knew where they came from, or why they attacked us. Armies attempted to annihilate them, but none were successful. Yet one day, there was silence, no attacks, nothing. It seemed we prevailed in defeating the invading aliens. However, one year later, and I mean exactly one year later, they returned.

Messages were received on every radio transmitter on the earth. The world was under attack by the Virson armies. Fortunately for humans, they gave us enough time to replenish our supplies. Perhaps they were just testing our willpower the first time, or it was just practice for the full frontal assault. Thasticers, Virsons, Vircos, Vernons, and Valasyves attacked all the major cities in the world. Civilisations were destroyed, billions were killed, and half the world became a desolate wasteland.

Something must have been triggering my dreams; they would always be the same, everyone dying in the same way, the same brutality, I needed help. I decided to see a therapist and find out if something in my sub-conscious activated all these nightmares. I skipped breakfast; I didn’t even say goodbye to my wife, the first time in years, which is how serious this had become. I walked down my front porch, opened the garage, and slowly opened the door to my car. I drove out slowly, cautiously in case of anything uncertain. I knew that would never happen, but I still did it.

While I drove to the therapist, I noticed everyone looking at me as I drove. People everywhere would stop what they were doing to stare at me. Gardeners stopped their raking to look up at my car; children ceased their games of hopscotch and rollerblading and stared without conscience towards me, right into my eyes. When I pulled up to a red light, the people in the car next to me stared at me with soulless eyes, as if no human were in control of their minds. They continued to stare even after the light turned green. I turned on the radio to avert my attention from everyone looking at me with their gazing eyes.

I reached the office without noticing anyone else staring at me. I walked up to the front desk, and looked at the woman sitting in the wheelie chair. The receptionist had red hair, pushed up into a bun, and a purple scarf wrapped around her neck. She wore crimson lipstick, and poorly managed green eyeliner. The receptionist was taking a call and took no notice of me. I stood there feeling stupid while the receptionist talked on for five minutes.

“So darlin’, what’s your name?” The receptionist finally said to me with a cigarette-charred voice, “Say, have I met you before?”

“Err, I don’t think so,” I replied stunned, “I’m Jerry Harrison, I haven’t got a scheduled time, is it still possible to see the therapist?”

“Yes it is actually, you will have to wait for that child over there to go in, then it will be your turn, hon.”

“And how long will that take?” I replied, feeling anxiety welling up in the pit of my stomach

“Dunno, depends how long the possessed kid take.”

I pretended not to hear that answer and took a seat next to the magazine pile. There was nothing that intrigued me in TIME, so I decided to look around. The only thing other than the apparent possessed kid was the receptionist desk, a plant that was in need of a good watering, and a picture of the President. I turned to look at the kid; he seemed like a normal little boy, he wore a blue baseball cap, red and white striped t-shirt, shorts with pictures of yachts on them, and bright yellow shoes. He could never have a demon in him. He turned to me, a freckly face that seemed full of life, brown ruffled hair, and big blue eyes.

“Hi,” I said in a friendly voice.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Jerry,” the kid replied in a deep voice, he then smiled an evil grin; his teeth were all sharp-pointed fangs

I turned away startled, and began reading the magazine again, then put it down after five minutes. I decided to see whether or not I could sleep. I didn’t care if the nightmares plagued me again; I thought that maybe I could describe them more vividly if I had just witnessed them. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. I heard the therapist come out of his office and say he was ready for the kid.

“Goodbye, I’ll be seeing you later, Jerry,” I heard the kid say

After half an hour I’d fallen asleep, but this time I didn’t dream the same dream that always came to me while sleeping. Instead I dreamt I was still in the therapist’s office, but everything was blurry and white. Two figures started talking. I couldn’t make them out, but I recognised the receptionist’s voice when they started talking, about me.  



“Yes, he came in, he’s right over there,” the first figure said pointing at me.

“Good, our plan will finally work out from now on. Everything will be to their liking,” the other replied. “The time lapse will be completed, humanity will be no more.”

The second figure took a step closer to me. His body started to tremble, his skin started peeling off in layers: muscles and organs disappeared to reveal black scales. His fingers turned into sharp claws, his mouth morphed into a massive gaping pit, a tail layered with spikes aligned grew out of his back, and his legs unfolded to twice the normal size. He stood eight feet tall.

The figure suddenly charged at me, and I jumped out of the way. It crashed into the wall, and I ran to the opposite side of the room, grabbed one of the wooden chairs and held it tightly. It regained its composure and charged me again. I hurled the chair as hard as I could at its head, but it ducked out of the way easily. I seized a second chair and held it in front of me. When it was within three feet of me, I brought the chair high above my head and swung it hard down onto its chest. The figure’s momentum carried it careening into my stomach and I collapsed to the ground with the figure landing on top of me.

I pushed it off me, and finding a splintered piece of wood, repeatedly stabbed it in the neck. The figure started thrashing around, trying to slash me with its claws. It connected with my right forearm, and I winced in pain, but continued to stab. As it let out its dying breath, a satisfactory feeling of accomplishment swept over me and I stood up, wiping my forehead with my hand, cleaning it of any blood. I turned around to face the second figure, but to my amazement, a bewildered woman stood in its place, a sense of complete shock on her face.

“Where did it go?” I growled at her.

“Where did what go?” she replied in horror.

“The second thing, it looked just like this one!”

I pointed to the dead figure lying on the ground. Her eyes moved, but her expression stayed the same.

I looked down at the figure, but it was missing, the little boy from before lay in its place, blood streaming out of his neck. I rubbed my eyes, but the scene didn’t change. I rubbed them again; a dead boy with a hole in his neck still lay on the floor.

“I, he attacked me!”

“Nothing compared to what you’re about to experience!” she roared in a demonic voice.

She fell to the ground and began to convulse madly, large veins throbbing intensely on her neck. She vomited blood, and her eyes turned crimson red. She stood up, faced me, and issued a high-pitched scream. I covered my ears and cringed in pain.

She leapt across the room, and in an instant, she reared back, and tackled me to the ground. I looked up into her eyes, and she smiled with contempt. Her fingernails sharpened, and her grip around my throat increased. She began slashing at my stomach, shredding my skin and flesh with each blow. I tried to fight back, but she held me down with a death grip. My last vision was her claws plunging deep into my chest.

Therapy Helps    

I woke up sweating; the receptionist gently shaking my shoulder and telling me to wake up, and that it was my turn to see the therapist. Her long fingernails dug into my skin. I stood up, thanked her, and walked over to the therapist’s office. A short man greeted me at the door.

“Hello Jerry, I am Dr. Fitzgerald, I will be your therapist for today. Now, what seems to be the trouble with you?” the man said. He was a little shorter than I was, wore thick glasses, balding around the forehead, and dressed in a plaid light-brown suit.

“Well,” I replied, “I wouldn’t really want to talk about it in this area.”

“Oh, I’m sorry; shall we go into my office?”

When I stepped into his office, the first thing I noticed was that it wasn’t white, but brown. Usually they were painted calming colours, such as blue or green, or at least that is what I’d usually seen in movies. I sat down on the couch while the therapist pulled out a pen and a notepad from a nearby desk. He placed the notebook down on the chair near the couch, walked back over to his desk, and picked up his laptop.

“If you are going to type your notes into that computer, why did you just get the notepad out?” I said confused

“Oh, that’s for patients who ramble on and on about nothing, I draw pictures while they talk, doodles really,” he replied smiling, “so, what seems to be the trouble, Jerry? Hmm, fancy that, being named after a mouse.”

“What can you do? It was my parents’ job naming me. The real problem is every night when I go to sleep, or for that matter anytime I sleep, it’s always the same dream, every time, no different, same setting, same time,” I responded, laying down on the couch, making myself as comfortable as possible.

“What’s the dream about?”

“Remember about two years ago, when earth was under attack from Virsons?”

“Yes, I remember it very well,” he replied, looking at me from under his glasses.

“I became a soldier in the effort to stop them, but that was after my only son joined the war, and was killed by a Vernon , I became blinded with rage, but I held it back until what happened on my wife’s birthday. A Valasyve landed on my brother’s car while he was driving over to my house and crushed the back half. My two nephews were killed instantly, and then the Valasyve ripped open the top, lunged into the car and stabbed my brother in the back. That’s when I joined the army and became a soldier.”

“So that’s what the dream is about?”

“No, it involves more carnage. I have never told this to anyone, not even my wife.”

“Please, continue, but start from the beginning, the very beginning, the day you joined the army…”


The Story Begins  


It was a hot June day as I waited in line at the enlistment office to sign up into the army. My brother had just been killed by a Valasyve that had attacked his car, and I wanted revenge. I didn’t care if I lost my life, I wanted to make a difference, kill some Virsons, and try to stop what they started.

The line gradually started to thin out as men learned they didn’t possess the right stuff, or were successfully enlisted to fight for humanity. The man in front of me had white hair, and seemed lacking in any obvious physical strength. After he walked into the office, and a minute later was sent away, I walked up to the office door, and held the handle for a moment before turning the knob.

I walked into a room that consisted of a desk and a window, no seat that I could sit down in, so I stood. The man behind the desk looked up at me as he finished writing on some paper.

“And what’s your name?” he said with a low voice.

“Jerry Harrison,” I replied nervously.

He started typing on a small laptop computer, hit enter, and raised an eyebrow.

“So, used to work as a landscape architect aye?”

“Yes, I worked for the army for a while, I designed caches, but I usually just created houses.”

“Well that doesn’t matter anymore, welcome aboard.”

“What?” I replied dumbfounded.

“You’re in, welcome to the army.”

“Just like that? You don’t need to know who I really am?”

“Look, son, in a situation like this we don’t care if you say you’re the President, we need an army strong enough to defend the earth.”

“Well why do you send so many people home?” I asked him.

“Why so many questions? Why anything?” he said.

“That doesn’t answer my question, sir.”

“I never said I would answer any questions, you are dismissed, private.”

I walked out of the office with a dazed look on my face, since when was it so easy to enlist in anything, nowadays, even signing up for food is highly recommended.


The next day arrived quickly and it wasn’t a pleasant one; rain poured down the windows as I looked outside, my last hour inside that house, possibly ever again. My wife walked over to me with a look of remorse.

“I must go, Annette, I can’t just sit here and wait for those things to decimate everything we hold dear.”

“I know what you must do, and I know that no matter what I say, I can’t stop you from going,” she said, crying.

I looked down into her eyes, and wiped her tears away with my thumb. There were two clear options that presented themselves; hide in shame from my fate, or take hold of it and create my own destiny. I chose to take what was unknown to me, what was unclear. I looked back at my wife as I climbed onto the military bus.

I walked up the stairs and down the aisle. I found a vacant seat close the rear of the bus and sat next to a burly man. I smiled weakly at him and took my seat, but his beady eyes didn’t exactly welcome me warmly. I sighed heavily, placed my bag between my legs, and then looked past the man at my wife’s face; she looked gaunt, and afraid.

I waved at her, but she didn’t return the gesture, she just put her hand to her eyes, and walked back inside, her shoulders hunched. The burly man looked down at me, and I quickly averted my gaze to the seat in front of me and found a little ball of fuzz, the only thing that I would look at for at least the next two-hour trip.

The cotton fuzz ball on the chair bounced up at down whenever the bus hit a pothole, or moved from side to side at every red light. I was only an hour in, and so far, my thoughts were my only friend, memories from high school continued to flood my mind, things such as if I hadn’t put that answer down on the math tests, I would have received above average on my report. I also thought about my son, and what went through his mind, the last seconds he was alive, and where he was now; he always believed in life after death.

The bus passed through many lonely towns, streets named after famous people, perhaps someone once dreamed of a better future for the town, a brighter time for their children, one in which people didn’t rely solely on others to survive. My entire future, the ground that had only a few days ago been paved straight ahead, toward the sun shining clear, now tilted in the direction of events. A line had been drawn in the sands, connecting me to the past, and what was yet to come; an entire void lay in the middle.

“Jerry Harrison! Remember me?” a man behind me said in a gruff voice.


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