My Doomsday Farming Truck Novels & Stories

Klide, Harvhey and Freea; he knew what those people desired. Peace. An organization where the children won’t live resenting their parents. And to do that, sacrifices are needed. Kloper smiled down the slope of the road when a big truck caught his attention. The truck says “Midget Ice cream” on the label on it. ‘Weird,’ Kloper thought. As far as he can remember, the dead end of the road leads to the cemetery and he could not recall seeing a mart or a store somewhere. “Why would be a truck in a narrow place like this?” he suspected.

Dad nodded and I think he is satisfied with Sky’s answer. “Good job. I didn’t know you are also a great liar.” I mind-linked Sky. “I’m not lying.” He placed a spoon on his mouth and continues eating. “Stop staring and eat.” Realizing that I am still staring at him in disbelief. “Did he just say that he has a textile business?” Amari asked. “I think so.” I look in front, still in awe with Sky’s revelation. It’s already 4 o’clock and I am currently laying down the couch lazily.

"What are you doing? This is my home! I'll report you for breaking and entering!" One of the workers gave her a tired look and handed over an official notice. "Chase Gray is dead, and you're an ordinary civilian. You no longer have enough points to maintain this residence, so we're repossessing the place per regulations. Civilians live in the East District. Rent is cheaper there." The East District was basically the slums. Dozens of people crammed into a single dorm, and the environment there was horrible. But in an apocalypse, having a roof over one's head was already more than many dared dream of.

The morning sunlight attacked me like it had been waiting all night for this exact moment. Right through my thin curtains, stabbing me in the face like I’d personally offended the sun. I groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over my head. Not today. Please not today. But the second I shut my eyes, last night came rushing back. The alley. The men. Him. And that voice, low and final: “Doom has begun.” I sat up so fast my pillow hit the floor. My heart thudded against my ribs, too loud for morning.

I growled. Gunner dropped his hands and there was a new truck sitting there. My mouth dropped. It was a beauty! Newer Chevy 2500 Duramax with a lift kit. He had it custom painted with primary color being black, but then shades of green, purple, and blue were thrown in with specks of white to make it look like the galaxy. I walked all the way around it in awe. “You like it?” He asked finally. “I think I’m in love.” I said still looking around the truck.

SERAFINA Our gray Mercedes AMG GLE 6s3 coupe came to a screeching halt in front of the 120 meters tall building, which stood as the headquarters of the Dekoms empire. Reporters immediately clamoured to our car, their camera flashing desperate lights at us, while their mouths moved frantically.

"Good. The Hollywood version of us died in the canyon anyway. It’s about time we stopped acting like the characters we paid people to write for us." The Architecture of the Menace Two miles away, parked beneath the heavy, dripping canopy of the banyan trees along the old Ingraham Highway, a blacked-out, armored Ford F-550 commercial utility truck sat with its engine idling in near-silence. The vehicle was completely unmarked, its panels reinforced with ballistic composite tiles that absorbed the local street lamp illumination rather than reflecting it. Inside the rear cab, the air was freezing, chilled by an industrial-grade cooling unit designed to keep three rack-mounted servers from overh

I can see the car of Caleb's mother approaching. Mrs. Thompson. I've been close to her ever since, but not so much with her husband, Caleb's dad. They're involved in real estate business, which includes all of the stall rents in the Goods Shed. Behind the grey car, I can see a familiar farm truck coming. I didn't have to guess who it is. It's the same ruthless and vigorous Dom. "I'm gonna go now, oh wait!" When the grey car approached, Caleb went there to get something. He jogged back towards me holding a book.

The silence that followed the power failure was predatory. I stood in the center of the dark garage, the .45 heavy in my hands. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, aided only by the moonlight filtering through the shattered window. Every shadow seemed to mimick the monsters. Outside, the faint hiss of tires on gravel announced their arrival. I crept to the edge of the large bay door, peering through a rusted crack in the metal. Three black transport trucks, the kind used for hauling livestock or heavy machinery, rolled into the lot. Behind them followed two tactical SUVs with the Aegis Zenith logo embossed on the doors.

I used one of my personal business cards and a fake story about launching a rural agricultural program while quietly keeping Caleb’s black card in reserve for later. Money moved quickly in places like this. Within thirty minutes, I had the keys to a twenty-four-foot flatbed truck with a reinforced canvas cover. The thing looked like a military transport vehicle. Huge. Loud. Absolutely impossible to miss. Perfect. The massive steering wheel vibrated beneath my hands as I climbed into the driver’s seat and started the diesel engine. The truck growled to life hard enough to shake the cabin. Nebula materialized lazily on the passenger seat, tail flicking.