Novel & Cerita Hunter Survivors

She turned on her heel and stormed down the hallway. I exchanged a look with Niccolò. We knew about the types of experimentation and torture that occurred by the hunter’s hands. Survivors took time to open up, but then they were very candid about what they endured. It was really fucking brutal and caused many survivors to take their own lives because their trauma was too heavy. “Spread out and search for anything that can be of connection to the hunters,” I told everyone. They immediately jumped into action. Violet was an outsider for all intents and purposes, but it didn’t matter to them. I could see that they were affected by the news of her sister being handed off to the hunters.

Although we lived in a villa that was located in the remote suburbs, we weren't exempted from the outages. Many survivors died of starvation and thirst despite not being infected by the zombie virus. In my previous life, I had seen far too many people who died from zombie attacks just because they needed to venture out in search of water. That was why I needed to ensure that I had stocked up enough water. Soon, my car was filled with more than a dozen water cooler bottles and boxes of mineral water. Packs of toilet rolls were stuffed in the cracks as well. It didn't take long for me to drive home with my latest haul.

Both Ruth and I turned our heads at the same time. From the pile of zombies nearby, a blood-soaked figure crawled out with what little strength he had left. One of his arms was missing. It was Dan. I raised an eyebrow in surprise. I had to admit, the guy was ridiculously tough. Falling straight into a swarm of zombies and still managing to survive?

"This is Dr. Elizabeth Navarro with critical update. Global survivor count has been revised. We've lost contact with South American network. Australian group went silent three months ago. African coordination collapsed. Current reliable count: 150,000 survivors worldwide. Down from 250,000 six months ago." 100,000 people dead. Again. From cold, from hunger, from systems failing under stress. The apocalypse wasn't over. It was ongoing. Constant. Relentless. "How many more winters?" Sarah asked at emergency council meeting. "How many more times do we have to prove we can survive?" "Until the climate stabilizes," Maya said. "Which could be years. Decades. We prepare for permanence, not for reso

Dozens of vehicles roared to life. Buses and armored trucks carried over 180 rescued survivors away from the battlefield. Every single member of Hayley's base made it out alive. From Monica's group, only 35 survived. Along the way, Monica's people stayed silent. They were still drowning in the pain of losing so many companions. Many had lost family and friends. Just as Hayley finally sat down to rest, someone walked up to her. Danny stopped in front of her. "Hayley Reid." "What?" Hayley lifted her head lazily.

The audio clip started and the image began to move. “Hello survivors, my name is Daniel Shirker, President and founder of Project Humanity’s Last Resort. For those unaware, the world as you know it is over. We are entering a new world, a new age, a world of peace and freedom, but do know, you are not alone. Scattered across the United States are one hundred fifty-one bunkers containing an overall total of one million survivors. These bunkers are meant to serve as your new home. You will live here for three months. There will be enough food and water, as long as you ration properly and utilize the farm to grow food immediately. After those three months are over, the air will return to its pre

Unless you have guests randomly show up as I often seem to. Axel stirs in my mind, hating unannounced company. We’d been hoping for a long hot bath and a few beers. I’d been working a case for a few days now of a small pack that was raided, barely two dozen people and only half survived it. It was brutal and it just never gets easier. So far there’s been no rhyme or reason to it, and few survivors have been too traumatized to say much. “Everything okay,” I question, when I realize Harlow isn’t making eye contact with me.

I asked, and he looked away from me before speaking. "Every wolf had the chance of experiencing that gift until Giles and John Hunter decided to thin out our population and ended up killing wolves that would have been fated to other wolves." As soon as he mentioned the Hunters, an awkwardness settled in the atmosphere. I felt cheated. As an orphan, I felt unlucky not to have a family, but now that I knew I had one and I was being hunted because of them, I wished I could go back to my orphan days when I was unlucky but not hunted by werewolves. I would pick being unlucky over being hunted any day. Unfortunately, time travel hadn't been invented yet.

“My name is Peter, and I’m a Specialist with the United States. I did a lot of work in the early days, trying to keep the disease contained. When that failed, I began to take in survivors and tried to fortify a safe haven for them, much like you’ve got here. Unfortunately, things didn’t end well, and I and a small group of survivors were forced out onto the streets with very few supplies and no real hope to keep us going. We decided to try Phila, a place with a smaller population, which would hopefully mean fewer dangers. To get there, we decided to make our way to an airbase and take a helicopter, as one of our members was a trained pilot. While we were at this base, we met a man who claime

I don’t want to start imagining things, but I can’t help it. Hunter and I seem to be the only survivors after all. And he’s the one looking macabre amongst us both. Gods and Goddesses, please tell me what I’m thinking isn’t true. Tell me Hunter didn’t do this. Bring the murderer before my eyes, so I can be a bit consoled because I cannot deal with this. I just can’t. There’s enough I can take for a week. And this… this is way past my limit that I want to lay atop sun-beaten sand and let the concrete scrape off the memories. Reset the things I’ve just now seen.