My Doomsday Farming Truck Novels & Stories

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.

I shrugged and trudged up the stairs. After I was ready for work, I headed out to the truck. It was a big, black, 1998 lifted Chevy Silverado, with a crew cab. It had huge spotlights on the top of the truck. It made it easier to drive in the dark. River had this truck since he was fifteen. He did a lot of work on it. I didn't blame him for not getting rid of it. ***

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.

He immediately pulled me outside the gate. He was about to lead me to his car but I did not flinch. "Wait up, what are we gonna talk about, Primo?" "Of course, the deal," he replied. "No deal for today. She's going with me." Doom appeared in a black shirt paired with cargo pants.

I squealed as a huge smile crossed my face, bracing for impact. The biters staggered toward the truck as if it was fresh meat. A plump older man wearing overalls and middle-aged female wearing a flowery church dress bounced off the bumper, falling to the asphalt. The truck's thick tires easily rolled over their decaying bodies, popping and cracking their bones to pieces. I laughed. "I'll never get sick of that sound. This truck is so frigging awesome." The smile on Thomas's face grew even wider as he aimed for more. "We ain't done yet."

The moment the casket left the truck, it was evident that the vehicle’s body was raised by nearly five centimeters. Black Turtle couldn’t help but sigh as he looked at that ragged old truck. It was astounding that the vehicle had managed to transport the coffin here without breaking down. As the ox cart slowly approached them, Trine hurriedly stepped forward. “Bullseye, my old pal! I never expected you to personally come to help. This is amazing!” “How would I dare to refuse a command from you?!” said Bullseye, the old hunter, as he laughed foolishly.

Unfortunately, there were just a few of them, and they could not fight off such a large group of people. These farmers were settled in a very short time. Flying Rooster was the first to rush to the entrance of the farm. He raised the huge machete high before he slashed it down hard. The door opened with a click. While Flying Rooster prepared to rush inside, the ground suddenly shook, as if an earthquake was happening. Hmm? He turned back and took a look. Ten big trucks were suddenly driven over. These trucks stopped one after another. Then, the strong and muscular men with great figures jumped out of the cars.

“You go see world small. Staying inside all day make head weak.” She turned to Thomas. “You bring her back before dark.” “Yes, boss,” he said, mockingly bowing. ___________ An hour later, I found myself standing outside staring at what Thomas proudly called his truck, which looked like it had survived at least three wars, two floods, and one bad marriage. The paint was chipped beyond recognition, the side mirror on the passenger side was cracked and held in place with tape, and when Thomas turned the key, it coughed like a dying old lady.

The officer continued cautiously, "And it's still strange, sir... a large transport truck overturned on the side of the asphalt road leading to the farm, and about a kilometer further on, another large truck overturned on the side of the road. Neither vehicle had any documents or licenses indicating ownership, but we took the license plates and sent them to the traffic police to trace the owners in the records." Hisham's expression hardened, his tone a mixture of praise and urgency: