Apocalypse Survival 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."

Dante held me as if I might vanish, but I no longer had the strength to push him away. Professor Shaw came to my side. “Aria, can you hear me?” I looked at her through the blur. “My baby…” Her expression changed, but her voice stayed steady. “We’re taking you to the institute medical center now.” As they lifted me onto the stretcher, Dante tried to follow. Professor Shaw stopped him with one look. “You had your chance to protect her.” The last thing I saw before darkness took me was Dante standing in the hall, covered in my blood, while the wedding ring box lay open at his feet.

Their eyes were empty, unfocused, and they were both wearing a strange, hollow smile. The rescue team leader stepped forward. "Mr. Sands? Mrs. Sands?" Dad suddenly clutched the tin of spam against his chest and shrank backward, his eyes wide. "Shh. Be quiet," he whispered, his voice shaking. "There are zombies out there. Going outside means death. "This is the last of our food. We have to ration it. We have to make it last." Mom nodded along beside him, completely serious. "One less mouth to feed. You'll get to live a few more days."

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

"And she's also agreed to build us a doomsday shelter and invest an equivalent amount in gold bars." The picture I painted was far too tempting. The resistance on their faces began to waver. Daisy asked in a low voice, "Then… what if the apocalypse never comes?" "If it doesn't," I replied calmly, "we'll still have the gold." That sentence shattered their final line of defense. I pressed on while the iron was hot. "Dad, this is our only chance. Either we cling to a house that will be worth nothing in the apocalypse and wait to die together—

This time, I needed to make sure that I could stock up on enough supplies for my family's survival. After entrusting Joyce to Mom, I drove away from home once again. This time, I drove to another supermarket to avoid rousing suspicion from the employees of the previous supermarket. I kept loading my shopping cart with general supplies like toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo, and facial cleansers. Hygiene was equally important in the apocalypse. If we were to fall sick, we wouldn't be able to seek out a doctor at all. After filling my cart with the basic necessities, I rushed over to the apparel section. Cold-protection supplies like down jackets, blankets, and sleeping bags were on my priorit

I rubbed my forehead gently, feeling a little throbbing in my head that made me a little dizzy. I could barely tell if it was day or night as I gazed out the window. But each day was dragging me closer to the apocalypse. And as strong as I felt, even with better vision that I could see people walking from kilometres away, I didn't know if I was ready for it. If I was going to not only survive the apocalypse but also take in survivors who would have nowhere else to go. With a sigh, I was about to make my way downstairs when a crazy thought clicked in my head and my lips curled into a smile.

There’s nothing left but survival. I stared at the words, my mind spinning. The Burning. That’s what people called it now, the apocalyptic event that had scorched the earth and turned the world into a wasteland. But this person—this scientist—had known it was coming. They’d predicted it. And somehow, they’d ended up here, in this bunker, leaving behind their journal like a final warning. I looked up from the journal, my pulse quickening. This wasn’t just a storm shelter. This bunker had belonged to someone who had known about the end of the world before it happened. Someone who had tried—unsuccessfully—to stop it.

Just Ray stops laughing, wipes the red honey off his lips with his shirt, and moves around the metallic cave, trying to find something. “I’m not taking you—” “Why not!?” “I am not getting killed,” Just Ray shouted. “Just Ray, do not fret. No one will kill you,” I promised. “We will keep you alive forever, your honey is wonderful!” He eyed me suspiciously and moved piles of his treasures to the side, useless things until he found a life-saver. It’s black with various patches sewn in to keep it together, the metal rusting, the handle made of wood, and he rubs a strange substance on it to get it to open up.