Apocalypse Bus Novels & Stories

I didn’t expect the patch to come so soon. In the second month after the battle, the rooftop radio suddenly crackled to life with a crisp broadcast voice. "The Atlas Geothermal Initiative is now active. Surface temperatures will gradually recover. Rescue is on the way." Rhys and I just stared at each other. So this wasn’t a solo survival game after all. It was online, and the admins had finally logged in. A week later, a military helicopter landed in the open lot. Registration and verification went quickly. The officer in charge clapped me on the shoulder. "Turning the apocalypse into a warehouse operation! You’re one of a kind."

The world outside was collapsing. Cars clogged the roads, horns blaring endlessly. Some vehicles were abandoned entirely, their doors left open. People ran as they were screaming while some were already attacked. Others had changed. Half-transformed victims lashed out violently, biting anyone within reach. Public transport buses were packed, trapping workers who had been returning from early shifts now becoming some of the first casualties of the apocalypse. Hotlines were overwhelmed while sirens wailed in the distance. Smoke began to rise from different parts of the city.

Sasha’s heart hammered in her chest as the black bus finally slowed down, pulling in front of an old, worn-out building on the outskirts of town. The structure was a far cry from the bustling marketplace—it looked abandoned, with faded graffiti scrawled across the crumbling walls and shattered windows reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun. It was tucked between two larger warehouses, hidden in plain sight, and the air around it felt oppressive, like a place where unspeakable things had happened.

"So, what do you want? There must be something you want. Everyone has something they want!" The gears in Ben's head were slowly working again, already tweaking their game a little, perhaps adding her answer to the pool of possible choices. He was clearly the brains behind this operation. Pulling into the depot, the bus screeched and shuddered, coming to a complete stop in the parking bay with one final groan. Chaos erupted around them as passengers, eager to be reunited with their loved ones waiting in the sweltering heat, scrambled out of their seats and grabbed their bags.

The sun was still trying to rise, its light weak and dull behind a wall of clouds. Looking left and right, the road seemed empty and I honestly didn't know which way to go, left or right. I was about to play rock paper scissors or something to decide when I heard something that made me jump up in excitement. An engine. Maybe the universe did want me to escape this hellhole. I turned left to see a faded yellow bus rumbling toward me. The thing looked old and rusty like it had survived the apocalypse and decided to keep going out of spite. I didn’t care. Transportation was transportation.

Somewhere above, the streetlamp buzzed and flickered again. “Is anyone—” Headlights cut through the fog. I flinched back, heart ramming my ribs. For a second, I saw the car again—white hood, blinding light, the driver’s horror-stricken face—and my body froze. But the lights this time were higher. Wider. Two rectangles of weak yellow, side by side, rumbling toward me with the sound of an old engine and squealing brakes. A bus. An old city bus, the kind that should’ve been retired decades ago. Its paint was a patchwork of peeling white and gray, metal streaked with rust. Half the windows were fogged from the inside. The front destination sign was dark, nothing but a black rectangle at first.

He looked at her. No money. No room. No move left. “Ours,” he said. “Ours,” she said. The bus came. Number 14. Mercy to downtown. They got on. No fare. Driver looked at them. At Zara’s face. At Bastian’s shirt. At Bisi’s burner. He closed the doors. Drove. No questions. Two days, seventeen hours left on the offer. Zero hours left on safe.

But he shouldn’t forget that, by next year, I will be with Efosa. We boarded the first bus, which would take us to a neighboring village where buses to Lagos departed. Solomon and I sat in the middle of the bus, waiting for it to fill completely before it finally left. The second bus we entered was different, newer and far less cramped. Unlike the first bus, where we were packed tightly together, this one had more space, seating just three people per row. By then, the sun had risen, lighting up the earth around us. Then before the second bus started its journey, an older man stood at the entrance of the bus, clutching a worn Bible with pages curled at the edges. He began to pray, and almost

She is already going through hell, it is better to keep going. Out of the blue, a voice on the bus screamed "That's her! Driver! That's her! Stop the bus! Driver! Stop the bus…!" The driver probably lost in his own thoughts responded to the sudden panic by applying brakes while the bus was at full speed, which resulted in a quick and swift tumble of the bus.

Eason cursed under his breath and shifted to sit forward, popping more ice in his mouth as he continued to sweat black goo that smelled even worse now than before. "We've got news from the scene," one of them said. "So far, one bus has exploded, injuring seven people, including a group of students." "How long is Grace Wolfe going to put the lives of Mooncrest's citizens in danger?" Amira turned the channel as I tried to understand. Each channel seemed to have a different shot of smoke rising from the wreckage of the bus. My stomach turned as I got pieces of people's statements whenever Amira stayed on a channel long enough.