Novel & Cerita My Doomsday Farming Truck

Lena grinned widely, “Dad bought a 2023 Dodge Ram 3500. It’s blue, but not a bright blue. More like a Midnight Blue with a bit of sparkle to it. It looks like a night sky full of stars, mom.” She pulled the pictures up on her phone and handed it to me. I flipped through the pictures and gasped. I jerked my head to Isaac, “How did you know?” He laughed, “My whole world has revolved around you since we were little kids. Do you honestly think I didn’t notice the way you drooled over those trucks?” I laughed, “I never thought of that.”

"He's in the old utility truck. Parked outside the gate." The truck was a beast, a relic from a time when people worried about hauling lumber and drywall, not survival gear and fleeing from the undead. It was a deep, faded green, with patches of rust blooming like sores across its hood and doors. The bed was long and deep, a metal trough that could carry a significant haul. "We would definitely have enough room to take us for a while in case we had to take a detour," I murmured, more to myself than anyone.

(1920*FORT, US) TYRE "Tyre, shut the fucking door! " Jack hollered handling a rifle. We were at the frontier of the US defense, in the year; 1920, where we had time traveled. I squeezed my head out the window of the armored truck Bobby drove and spotted the incoming bullets of the German opposition. It was hell! If Bobby, for a second, didn't steady his impact on the gas, someone was going to get shot. I sat beside Bobby in the front seat while Jack strutted at the back with his head to his lower abdomen clasped outside the roof of the truck, ready to aim.

Alexander and Atlas leaned over the back, firing their shotguns point-blank into the faces of the infected trying to climb into the truck bed, knocking them down onto the road where they were crushed beneath the heavy rear tires. Up in the cab, Hawthorn slammed his boot onto the accelerator. The heavy military truck roared down the frozen estate driveway, picking up dangerous speed. Straight ahead, the reinforced steel perimeter gates of the Ashford Pack estate were locked shut. "Hold on to something!" Alexander shouted, wrapping his broad arms around me and pulling my back flat against his hard chest, locking us tightly against the front wall of the truck bed. Hawthorn didn't slow down. He

The rain started to get heavier by the minute and the farmer got to work. Much to the pleasure of the farmer, it rained the entire night and he prayed that the crop would make the most of it. The field was ready to take it on. The morning was sunny and lacked any signs of the stormy rain a few hours ago. There were puddles scattered around with dragonflies buzzing around. The girls played outside as the farmer took a well deserved nap. He slept like a log. A soft whirring noise of overly expensive vehicles pulled him out of his slumber. He sprang back to his feet. He immediately recognized the sound of the convoy. There was only one man in the region who could afford those cars. He ran out o

"Forget about him. He'll be driving, and we'll be in the back doing our thing. If that's not exciting enough for you, I'll tell him to pull over so he can join in…" "What are you talking about?" I hissed, covering his mouth. Truckers—especially the long-haul guys—had a habit of talking dirty to pass the time, but I couldn't believe he was saying such things about me. I was mortified. Yet, despite the shame, the image Dylan planted in my mind began to take root. Two strong men, one in front, one behind… I pressed my hands against my burning cheeks, forcing the thoughts away, and hurried to finish packing.

The colors light pink and orange-yellow meshed together perfectly in the sky as the sun touched the horizon. I looked at him, he wasn't paying attention to the beautiful scenario presented to us. He was taking things out of the vehicle we came from, which I just noticed was a truck. The truck was a 2019 Chevrolet Silverado 3500HD. I suddenly envy Adrien a bit now. "Hunter!" He yelled my name, immediately snapping me out of my thoughts. I looked at him a little confused on why he called me, and he motioned me to walk towards him. I obliged.

Furniture trucks are being offloaded with beds, dressers, wardrobes, and sofas, on the gravel driveway. Some of the old delta’s have volunteered to show the new delta’s the ropes. Seeing a welcoming party gathered to embrace members of their own pack is surreal. There is hope in the air, but one look at the former omega’s faces shows that they have not allowed hope to overshadow caution. Who can blame them? They are the ones who stand to lose the most if it all goes to shit.

Those with problems could piss off! As one would expect, there was no reasonable way to transport a half gallon pot of rice pudding on a motorcycle, so Tony had to take Big Bertha, his black '94 Ford Bronco. He loved Bertha. She was very reliable and whatever paint they used when she was born had held up perfectly in the sixteen years she's been around. Tony had promised himself that Bertha would be the only thing built by Ford he would ever own. There was a reason that the acronym 'Fix Or Repair Daily' had stood the test of time. Aside from Broncos, their build quality was abysmal and Tony did not like them.

Caius “WOOO-HOOO! CRUSH IT! CRUSH IT INTO OBLIVION!” My darling fiancé bellowed, leaping up from the stands as Grave Digger, the neon-green monster truck, plowed over the shell of an old F-150. She bounced on the balls of her feet, screeching through her cupped hands as Grave Digger was followed by Monster Mutt, another monster truck, though this one was painted neon orange and had the face of a dog on the front.