About Zombie Apocalypse Novels & Stories

“It is enough to have to battle each other without throwing the human race into the mix.” “You war with each other?” Jasper asked with surprise. Rowan nodded. “Indeed,” he said, “The werewolf and vampire are fierce enemies.” “And zombies?” Jasper asked. “What about them?” “The zombie is a curious anomaly,” Rowan began. “Unlike the vampire or werewolf, it is not a creation from another dimension come here. A zombie is the result of a virus that takes hold of a recently deceased corpse and causes just enough animation to allow it to function in the most primitive of ways.”

Yet, something held her back. In an attempt to ease her conscience, she asked, “Your community is adept in fighting the zombies, correct? Once I set this virus loose, there will be an increase in numbers.” The oversized woman chuckled. “We’ll simply herd them in the direction of the beasts.” A thought suddenly struck Olga. “What happens when the zombies are eliminated? The beasts are used to dining on zombies, correct?” Dr. Mac shrugged. “They’ve been around longer than anyone really knows and have always managed to find food. The zombie crisis is still young in comparison. I’m certain that they’ll adapt.”

" Yanlong insisted. Though most of the zombies show luminosity only after a month, there were always a few freaks. These freaks are extremely strong, befitting their status of early adapters. "Zombies?! Xiao yan, are you sure there are going to be zombies?" her father asked her this time. In a TV show, it means people with makeup are pretending, they can by no means hurt another person. "Yes father. I am sure there are going to be zombies. In fact, these zombies are the highlight of the show. You must bash their heads in. there is no danger in doing so, and every danger if you do not kill the zombies as fast as possible." Yanlong added.

Mel says as she walks past me. The day seems to be getting darker than usual, nighttime isn't the best time to roam when you have limited ammo. We walk through the forest for almost an hour before we got to the nearest city. It's obvious that the apocalypse really affected the city, bodies littered around with the remains of burnt cars, the walls are bullet ridden, most of the streetlight had their bulbs stolen. “Jesus” Mel mutters as she sights a hoard of Zombie struggling to get out of a bus. The zombies begin to slam the doors and windows as soon as they sight us, but the windows seem to be very thick.

I didn’t want to talk about that aspect of my past, but my brain had fastened on another line of thought that I did want to discuss. Encouraging my friend to take a seat, I sipped on my tea as I looked down at the bubbles almost overflowing the tub in order to gather my thoughts. My mind had drifted further into the past, linking my errant thoughts until they led towards an epiphany, and I blurted it out without pausing to consider how it would come off, “Everyone from the fallout shelter I survived in is dead.” Jerking her head back, Katya laughed disbelievingly, “Well, damn. It’s no wonder you’re so depressed. Just lay it out for me, Zoe.”

Celie and Lisa would be coming afterwards. Lisa had already switched off the lights and had just lain down in her own bed, ready to go to sleep when Celie suddenly spoke. Sensing that her cousin was not sleepy yet and wanted to talk, Lisa sat up and propped her pillows to lean her back on. She turned on her bedside lamp and looked at her cousin in the dim light. She observed that Celie's complexion looked different, a lot paler, but it must be because of the darkness of the room. “Are we talking about that man you met yesterday through the Flames app? The one with the mysterious eyes?” asked Lisa.

Handwriting from twelve years ago — the strokes heavier than they were now, the flourishes drawn wide and loose, like someone who wasn't afraid of wasting paper. I turned to page twelve. A layout diagram of the bunker. Seven bunks, one incubation unit, the storeroom at the end of the hallway, the concrete-sealed door nearly two feet thick. In the bottom right corner of the diagram, a note in my own handwriting: "The apocalypse has to feel real. Push the heat up, make the water filthy — let the audience practically smell it. Rotate the insiders every season, keep one genuinely unwitting participant — protects the ratings." After "genuinely unwitting," there was a note in parentheses. Just one

Evelyn opened her mouth. Nothing came out. What was she supposed to say? You abandoned me to die three months from now? Instead, as she asked quietly, “What time is it?” He blinked at the question. “Uh… almost seven.” Seven in the morning. Three months before the apocalypse. Outside the apartment window, traffic moved normally through wet streets. Somewhere downstairs, someone laughed. A car horn sounded faintly in the distance. The world hadn’t ended yet. But it would. Evelyn wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

But in reality, almost none of the big bases could do it. First, during the early months of the apocalypse, zombies were everywhere. Most bases were hastily built in remote or protected areas far from population centers. That meant their farmland was tiny. And with waves of survivors pouring in, they barely had enough land to stand on, let alone farm. Besides, everyone was too busy fighting zombies to even think about planting anything. The second problem was that extreme weather was coming. Next year would be the start of three straight years of harsh climate. In her last life, Hayley survived ten years in the apocalypse. Those ten years didn't just teach her how to fight zombies; they taug