Best Post Apocalyptic Novels & Stories

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I looked out at the apartment building in the distance. Flames were shooting into the sky, and faint screams carried through the air. Linda and Tyler had hidden from the zombies by climbing into a dumpster downstairs. They were curled up in the reeking trash, shivering as they fought over half a moldy bread roll someone had thrown away. Meanwhile, I took a sip of hot soup, warmth spreading through my whole body. This was what apocalypse life was supposed to feel like. Over the next three days, I followed Duke’s guidance and swept up supplies from nearly half the city.

And somehow, that version of him affected her the most. Aaron looked over the crowd of excited children and found her standing there, frozen, watching everything with emotions she wasn’t fully prepared to feel. Their eyes met across the noise and movement. His smile softened. The chaos seemed to fade into the background for a moment. And for the first time since the apocalypse began, Natasha allowed herself to imagine something she had never dared to dream about before. A real future. Not just survival. Not war or endless missions. A future. And standing right in the middle of it was Aaron Ross.

However, their relief was short-lived when they realized all the food in the mansion had vanished. A smirk played on my lips as I thought, 'I wonder how you like this little surprise?' The haunts rampaged unchecked, slaughtering humans at will during the apocalypse. Even though I was in the desolate suburbs, perhaps because I had once conducted my own funeral, I could acutely sense the shift in the apocalyptic air. A dense malice swirled around, sending shivers down my spine. I could not just stand by and watch my fellow humans being massacred while I hid away, basking in solitude.

This time, my parents believed her completely. Other than the house we were living in, they sold the storefront and the car in a rush, converted everything into cash, and started stockpiling supplies. They ordered tens of tons of flour, bought several large freezers to store chicken, beef, fish, and pork, and hauled truckloads of daily necessities, clothes, underwear, and bathroom supplies into the house. "In the late stages of the apocalypse, anti-inflammatory medicine will be the hardest to find. We should stock up now. Later, a single pill could be worth a cow."

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

] [Projected result: Underworld Court rank increase. The immediate problem was a survivor who wanted protection without testimony. The worse problem was that incense was low. Nobody had the luxury of naming the threat neatly. People argued in fragments, moved furniture, counted children, checked wounds, and made ugly little bargains with their own courage. My power worked best when I slowed down enough to ask who benefited from panic. Ava's worked best when she refused to let panic become policy. [Projected casualties: acceptable.] Acceptable. That word had survived the apocalypse better than most gods.

The second day of the apocalypse brought new horrors, new depths of human depravity that Clara had only glimpsed in her past life. The satellite uplink showed scenes of chaos that defied comprehension—neighborhoods burning, bodies piled in the streets, survivors turning on each other with a savagery that made her stomach churn. She had thought she was prepared for this, that her past life had hardened her to the worst humanity had to offer. But she was wrong. The reality was even worse than she remembered.

My mind went into a downward spiral, thinking up ways to survive a crazy, zombie apocalypse. 1.) Machetes instead of guns, that way I won't run out of ammo. 2.) Find reliable allies. Let's see, Rick has Daryl in The Walking Dead and Roberta has Addy in Z-Nation. Ok, so I guess werewolf friends would come in handy if there's ever an outbreak - but can a werewolf become a zombie? SHIT! I don't think I'd survive a zombie-werewolf apocalypse.

"If 5% make it through in the long run, that would already be impressive." Even under these conditions, humanity had not stopped fighting. People battled the cold with one hand and each other with the other. Production had ground to a halt. Farming no longer existed, and resource extraction had ceased. Food and energy had become strictly finite. Wars were breaking out everywhere. Some took place between individuals. Others erupted between small nations. Food and energy remained the two forces that drove people insane in the apocalypse. "Good thing I'm not short on either." Cyrus exhaled slowly, grateful for his preparations.

After that, I led Joyce back to our car. After the shopping spree, I chose not to let Walmart deliver the goods to my doorstep. Instead, I had the employees fill the car up with the food that I bought. After all, the neighbors would definitely suspect that something was going on if they were to notice the haul that I brought home. After the zombie outbreak, the most terrifying thing in the world wasn't the virus itself, but rather the dark side of humanity. Many survivors died in the hands of their allies during the early stage of the outbreak.