Post Apocalypse Books Novels & Stories

Every detail was accounted for, every system optimized for efficiency. In the afternoons, she focused on her mental health. She read books from the library, practicing her meditation and journaling about her experiences. She wrote about her past life, her death, and her rebirth. She wrote about Julian, Brenda, and Chloe—their betrayals, their cruelty, their ultimate downfall. She wrote about her plans for the future, the world she intended to build in the aftermath of the apocalypse. The journaling was cathartic, a way to process her emotions and maintain her sanity.

Callen says slowly, “are we talking nervously, twitchy, or full-on 'I’m going to eat your brains' twitchy? Because I’ve had a long week, and I’m not surviving a zombie outbreak on top of this.” “Grow up, Callen. Zombies aren’t real,” I sigh. “Yeah, well, neither were wolf shifters a few short years ago for me, but here I am turning into one and co-running a whole damn pack of them. Meanwhile, my girlfriend literally glows and brings people back from the dead. So forgive me if I’m keeping the apocalypse on the table.” Leo shifts slightly beside me, his unease rolling through the air. “He’s got a point… do we even know if they’re still…” He hesitates, searching for the right word. “Them?”

She hadn't expected the authorities to collect books from survivors, sort them, then offer them for trade again. With one disaster after another making even three meals a day uncertain, books were little more than firewood to the poorest survivors. Nobody would waste precious credits or supplies on them, so hardly any of them had sold. That worked out perfectly for Nicole. There were books on physics, math, chemistry, technology, biology, and all kinds of academic subjects, along with relationship magazines, novels in every genre, and even paintings. They were cheap, too. Nicole kept checking boxes and circling items with her pen. Once the apartments were sold, all of it would be hers.

I cry to Brixtius, shaking him out of his shock. "We need to warn the house first!" Brixtius runs back into the house to raise the alarm. I stare as Vesuvius keeps throwing up ash into the air, and the deadly ash has started to fall back down to the earth. It is a wondrous sight to behold, nature in all her violence and beauty fused into one. Lighting has started to streak from the enormous cloud, and I was transfixed by the designs against the now darkening sky. No sun now. Only darkness. Like a tomb. It dawns on me. I was not meant to survive Pompeii. "Fuck you, fairies!" I scream into the air.

Too happy to oblige, and I swiftly return to the Duke's office, standing in front of the bookshelf, trying to decide what book would show-off my 21st Century education. 18 My eyes fall on Homer's "The Odyssey." Perfect! I snatch the leather-bound book and return to the bedroom. Once inside, Bryce is sitting on a wooden seat with an empty stool beside him. He is sitting close to one of the burning candles on a floor stand. "What book had you chosen?" "'The Odyssey,' my lord," I tell him, trying to keep my voice neutral and bored. I do not want to give away my eagerness to prove my higher education. "Very well. Sit, and you may begin," Bryce states while studying me curiously. I can

Forever. End of book 36

Instead, he leaned back against a mahogany shelf, his casual sweater bunching at his shoulders. He looked at the stack of books on my desk, his eyes lingering on a tattered spine I had tucked at the bottom. "Wait, is that THE STAND?" he asked, pointing to the thick paperback. I looked down, my eyes landing on the book he was referring to. It was a survival horror story. Something about an alien invasion and humans getting wiped out one by one. "Oh. Yes. I’ve read it three times, but I find comfort in the end of the world sometimes. It makes my own feel... manageable."

The apocalypse did not start with zombies right away. That would have been too simple. First came the drought. The heat was brutal, day after day, pressing down on cities until roads cracked, crops burned, and people started fighting over bottled water in stores that had nothing left on the shelves. The electricity could not keep up. Power grids failed in waves, hospitals went dark, cooling systems died, and people who had spent their entire lives trusting walls and machines suddenly understood how thin civilization really was.

Fang There was blood dripping down my fingers. Hot, thick blood. It made a scorching line as it dripped across my hand and down my arm. Like acid. And just like acid, it burnt a mark on my soul. How many men had there been before the one before me? Honestly, I couldn’t remember. Too many over the years. Hell, there had been too many in the last few months. This was just the latest in a long line. A very long line.

Inside, most of the books stayed dry. Cyrus had never been much of a reader in the old world. In the age of smartphones, patience came cheap. Reading demanded effort and time, time better spent scrolling through short skirted influencers. Now the internet was basically dead. He rarely even touched his phone anymore. Thus, he figured he might as well borrow a book or two to pass the time. Maybe it would help keep whatever remained of his sanity warm in this frozen apocalypse. He stayed in the library for half a day. In the end, he picked up a coming-of-age novel and slipped the thick volume into his coat pocket.