I Am Future: Cozy Apocalypse Survival Novels & Stories

Then, she grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door. That night, we anxiously packed up, planning to leave for a neighboring state to lie low for a while. But then Mrs. Lewis called, saying Mom had apparently gotten beaten up again. She pressed her phone against the wall, and I could barely hear what was happening next door. Mr. Jarrell yelled, "Are you out of your mind, Shannon? I swear you've drunk yourself into a stupor. You really thought this was a good idea? Do you want me to send someone to knock some sense into you first?"

We are out on a team-building trip today. "Team-building?" "Basically, we came out to have some fun." Future Veronica did not reply right away. After a moment, she asked, "Is it March 20, 2025, on your side right now?" When I saw her message, I immediately switched screens and checked the date on my phone. It was indeed March 20, 2025. "Yes, that is the date," I replied. Right after I sent that, future Veronica continued, "Is the weather good today?"

" A surge of warmth spread through my body, and I could feel my muscles rippling with power. I clenched my fist and threw a quick punch that cut through the air with a sharp gust of wind. Perfect. The first night of the apocalypse was off to a peaceful start, but I couldn't let my guard down because something even more terrifying would come after the freezing doomsday—the zombie outbreak. People who froze to death on the side of the road would soon stand back up with twisted limbs and bite anything they saw. Garrett's family was surprisingly lucky. They managed to ditch the car and retreat to their high-end apartment complex, but the water, power, and gas were cut. All that fancy interior de

The morning’s been almost suspiciously normal. After rogue wolves and fights and running and discovering my life belongs in the fantasy section of a bookshop, I find myself standing in our driveway surrounded by grocery bags. We cleaned out half the supermarket because all of us are still eating like we've been stranded at sea for six months, and judging by the amount of food currently filling the boot, we’re planning to survive an apocalypse. The air smells like cut grass and sunshine. Birds are chirping. It feels so ordinary that part of me keeps waiting for something terrible to happen.

I said softly. Kai grinned. “Crazy good. And we’re just getting started, Architect.” Marcus nodded, shouldering a pack. “We protect you. You empower us. Together we survive this new world.” We stepped out into the changed landscape as the sun rose. The highway was a wreck of abandoned cars and scattered remains. More threats waited ahead, but with the bonds pulsing warmly between us, I felt ready. The apocalypse had taken everything, but it had also given me something powerful—connections forged in pleasure and survival.

Here, everyone had their own purpose. I had finally lived to become my own savior. At the same time, I had become a light to many more. A small team of survivors showed up out on the distant horizon. The young woman leading the group, carrying a massive backpack, waved vigorously in my direction. "Is this Chief Cox's safe zone?" she asked in a crisp and bright voice, full of profound hope. "We heard this is the homeliest place in the apocalypse!" I smiled and waved back at them.

That's a year from now, or was, in the version of this year I already lived through once, back when the world hadn't ended yet and Reyna and I still had lazy Sunday afternoons to waste on things that felt like fiction. Two a.m. I do the math without wanting to. The outbreak isn't supposed to start for weeks yet. Not days. Weeks. I built my entire timeline around weeks, around a countdown I thought I understood down to the district, and now Reyna is describing patient zero symptoms on a random Tuesday almost a full month ahead of schedule, in a hospital I never told her to watch, describing a documentary I haven't shown her yet in a life where none of this is supposed to have started this ear

The freaky end of days was coming. I faced the camera, my voice steady for all the people in the city to hear. "The freaky apocalypse is here, folks. I'm going to help you out as best I can. First up, find cover where the wind can't get you, subways, basements, factories, banks, any safe spot." Lights flickered on in every underground parking lot. The ground rumbled with a deep roar, setting the stage for Jim as he led his crew of infant spirits into a clash with the Haunts that sliced through the wind.

Aeron Miller was never special. When the System descended upon Earth and monsters brought civilization to its knees, he was nothing more than an ordinary survivor trying desperately to stay alive. For ten brutal years, Aeron watched humanity fall. Cities became ruins, friends became enemies, and powerful survivors fought over the few resources left. In the end, Aeron became one of the last humans alive—only to be betrayed and killed by the people he trusted. Then he opened his eyes. Seven days before the apocalypse. Seven days before the System awakens. Seven days before the world he knows disappears. Aeron has returned with everything he learned from his first life.

Futurama depicted an American landscape where automobiles would become the dominant form of transportation, flowing efficiently and delivering their precious passengers along divided superhighways allowing for high-speed travel with a double-decker design that allowed pedestrians to dominate through beautifully developed towns and cities. With moving light, inspiring audio and color effects, Futurama prophesied an American utopia enhanced with an assortment of cutting-edge technologies, the stuff of wildest imagination. Remote-controlled semi-automated vehicles, industrial power plants supplying everyone with power, farms growing artificially produced crops and aeration plants to purify and