Best Post Apocalyptic Novels & Stories

Avery responded. Jared got quiet. Then he got frustrated. “Damn it!” He said as he kicked a trash can over. He did proceed to pick it back up, but that could have been because security was watching him. He walked away, respecting Becca’s wishes. Avery waited outside until she seen the Rover drive away again and disappeared from sight. “Crisis averted until another day” she mumbled to herself.

There was a Level Zero Xenobeast attack. Military cooperation between Base 390 and Base 432 has been established. "We are ready to face the worst apocalypse." Professor from Base 532 discovers a new nuclear-forming substance from the portal. Base 721 is accused of conducting illegal experiments that cause the appearance of more dangerous Xenobeasts. Beware of the Apocalypse! Here’s How to Survive in the Wild. Judge of Base 177 Commits Mass Shooting: Pretext - Xenobeast Infection. Base 221 and Base 641 condemn Base 177's judge as worse as Hitler.

Rowan's territory was indeed remote and desolate, but it was nothing like I'd imagined. Word had spread that Rowan and I were coming, because many beastmen crowded the roadside holding gifts they wanted to present to us. They all looked well-fed and healthy, their eyes bright. Even the little ones and elderly were plump and rosy-cheeked. Since the apocalypse began, all the clans had struggled to survive. Food was barely enough to get by, and many older beastmen had starved to death. Those who survived were skin and bones. However, everything was completely different here.

I lifted my head to see what happened to Apocalypse. To my surprise was there a big hole in the ceiling and lots of debris and rubble mixed with wooden beams. I got up and walked over to what was over of the ceiling. I heard some groans coming from under the debris. Apocalypse was barely alive and stuck under big stone pieces and wooden beams. “You have to do better and more than this to stop me, you pathetic woman.” She coughed and spitted a clot of blood.

It is only because of this job she could go home, relax in her tub and read a web novel before sleep even after the apocalypse. Her favorite are rebirth apocalypse novels and dashing hero ones. After all, we only ever like fantasy when reality is utterly disappointing. There is no way to reincarnate even with all the weird abilities going around. If there were any good men in the world, they did not survive past the first week of the apocalypse. She knew very well what she would do if she were the lead of either story. If she were to be reborn before the apocalypse, she would blow her brains out after killing her entire family.

Some doors still hung open. Others had blood smeared across them. No military. No police. No rescue convoys. Only silence, which was broken occasionally by distant sirens echoing through the valley below. The apocalypse had moved beyond panic. Now came the collapse. Evelyn stepped over scattered belongings near the edge of the motel lot while Rowan crouched briefly beside an abandoned SUV. “Tank’s empty,” he muttered. Of course it was. Fuel had already become survival. The electronic tone rang softly through Evelyn’s skull.

The yard was a minefield of trenches, and the living room was packed to the ceiling with crates of cup noodles and survival crackers I'd hoarded online. There wasn't even room to walk. He stood before an expensive rug pinned beneath boxes of survival crackers, his expression darkening. "Phoebe, what is all this?" I rushed over, dragged him into the bedroom, and locked the door behind us with an air of absolute secrecy. "Honey, I need to tell you something huge. The apocalypse is coming." Gabriel stared at me, his eyes full of complex emotions. He reached out and felt my forehead, but I had no fever.

Three years into the apocalypse, my girlfriend, a captain of the Spark Sanctuary, kept me stuck living in the outer quarantine belt for 1,095 days. Every time I dragged my battered body to her with an entry pass in hand, she would put on a conflicted expression. "Shane, you're my boyfriend, so I have to avoid showing favoritism. These spots need to go to the families of fallen soldiers. Just wait a little longer. You don't have special abilities, so you're just regular muscle inside." I bought her excuses completely, turning right back around to risk my life fighting through swarms of infected. It wasn't until the day I accumulated my ninth entry pass, crawling back to find her while bur

Hayley asked. Max and Ryan exchanged a look. "Security's tight," Ryan said. "Almost nothing can be taken out. We can only stash things at the trash pit." Hayley thought for a moment, then pulled out a large bundle of seasoning packets. "Keep these. Use them to bring people over to your side." Before the apocalypse, seasoning packets were junk food trash. After the apocalypse, they were treasure. They were high-fat, high-salt, filling, and energizing. These people had been licking grease off the floor earlier. That alone said everything about how bland their lives were.

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."