My Doomsday Farming Truck Novels & Stories

The two of them were jolted back to reality, and Amal swung the tractor towards the commotion. “There!” said Dareon. He pointed a finger at one of the farm’s high-tech facilities - a textile mill - thousands of meters away. A hole had blown out from its side. Black smoke billowed out of it, and split the beautiful purple sky. Amal cranked the throttle towards the mill, and the tractor lurched forward in response. It sped up as the moments racked up, but it only made Dareon all the more nervous. “Come on, you pile of scrap! Get a move on!”

The main bay doors, large enough to drive a tank through, were closed, but a smaller personnel door stood ajar to the side. Ame pointed down to a smaller, box-style truck parked near the back wall, separate from the larger vehicles. It was painted a drab green and had a logo on its side that was too faded to read. “That one,” he said. “It is used for laundry runs to the outer camps. They check it less thoroughly.”

Almost immediately, the surrounding area went very dark and quiet, apart from the croaking and chirping of various animals. Two huge trailers drove menacingly, approaching from a distance. The driver at the front was listening to soft music, his guard down. Looking ahead, the road was clear, so he pushed on. Suddenly, a car appeared in front of him. Truck drivers of the Bronze Orchid were trained for years before they were allowed on the road in the organization's name. One of the trainings entailed running over any potential threats in their way. Their trucks were specifically built to ram any type of car off the road and soldier on unharmed.

X Farm and Fleet was a massive corrugated steel and cinderblock slab sitting in the middle of about two acres of concrete off 32, just past the 218 interchange. Folks from out and around the county go there for everything from tractor tires to school supplies, but mostly on the weekends. Today, the parking lot was practically deserted.

“No, Ben, I ain’t.” “Paul?” “What?” “I’m gettin’ scared. What the hell is this shit?” “I don’t know. It’s looking like we’re in a nightmare.” “Well, I wanna wake up!” “Me too, Ben, me too.” “Paul?” “What?” “Listen! Do you hear a truck?” “Yeah, it sounds... it sounds like it’s gettin’ closer.” “Look! Here it comes. What is… what the heck is it? It looks like a milk truck from the 1950s… Fletcher’s Dairyland Best Milk & Cream.”

A black SUV slammed its brakes on the gravel lane outside, its tires throwing stones against the barn door. Heavy boots hit the porch steps. "Break the door!" a man screamed from the yard. I didn't think so. I squeezed Dominic’s hand once, slammed my raw heel down on the clutch, and jammed the heavy gear shift into first. I floored the gas pedal. The old truck leaped forward like a wild animal. The front iron bumper slammed straight into the rough pine wall of the barn. Six-inch timber posts snapped like matchsticks. Sharp splinters and heavy wooden planks flew through the air as the truck burst out of the dark barn, airborne for a fraction of a second, before crashing hard into the shallow,

" Before Stephen could say anything, Darren stepped on the accelerator. The truck rolled past the frightened survivors and entered the farm. **** The truck continued deeper into the farm. The smell became worse with every meter they traveled. Rotting animal carcasses littered the area. Dead pigs. Dead cows. Dead chickens. Dead sheep. The remains of both animals and humans could be seen scattered across the property. Many were already far into decomposition. Flies swarmed everywhere. The air itself felt toxic. Even Darren, who had experienced countless horrors during the apocalypse, struggled to tolerate it. Then.... Movement. Several monsters suddenly emerged from both sides of the road. The

“Why are you still so stubborn? Your parents are being driven to death by your selfishness! Is your pride really more important than their lives?” Looking at my dad lying unconscious on the ground, and my mom on the verge of breaking down, I closed my eyes and swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. Forcing myself to endure the humiliation, I finally said, “Liam, I’m sor–” Before I could finish, the roar of engines suddenly echoed from the end of the street. The packed crowd split apart instantly, and a convoy led by black Hummers pulled to a stop right in front of me. Someone in the crowd recognized the person stepping out of the lead vehicle and gasped.

She imagined raising men with a stubborn streak the size of Benguet mountains wasn’t an easy undertaking. High beams from a cherry red Ford truck reflected off the front windows, and they both turned. She placed her glass down as they both stood. Damon’s high 4x4 rumbled through the tall grass and came to a stop at the edge of the field right before touching the lush grass of his Mama’s manicured yard.

Jefferson didn't do much, he just troubled Homer in the barn because of his slow pace. Jefferson was amazed to see the trucks lined up, they were smaller and looked cheaper than the ones Homer and Hugo had planned to buy yesterday. They change plans, so instead of going for an expensive, suspicious truck, Homer decides to go with a lousy truck. He would place piles of vegetables on top, hide sacks of medicine under them and he would distribute them to his several casinos and brothels outside the city.