Post Apocalypse Novels Novels & Stories

“You’re welcome, but for what?” “Everything.” That, along with the deeper kiss he pressed to her lips, was answer enough. ****** Author’s Notes I love futuristic, post-apocalyptic, and/or dystopian fiction. I wouldn’t want to live it, of course, but it’s fun to imagine how bad things could get, and how good people would function in the aftermath. In this book, I also explored a bit how harsh times make even good people do some questionable things. Can you forgive a good character if he (or she) does something morally ambiguous for the ones they love? I like complex characters and questions like that. I hope I gave a modicum of competency to exploring the idea.

You'd think it's a normal room but no, it's full of everything to weapons, machineries,bunks, Tents, Sleeping bags, Sleeping pads, Camping pillows, lamps, flashlights, Camp chairs, Camp tables, Lantern, etc. 'What are these?'. 'These are the equipments you'll be using on your hunt for predators'. I nodded. 'So, when should I begin?'. 'Tomorrow'. 'Tomorrow? But don't you think that's too early?'. 'No'. 'Oh ,OK'. 'Go and bid your family and loved ones goodbye, because after tomorrow, you might not be seeing them again'. She smirked then left me standing, gaping at her shapey retreating figure. ¶•¶•¶•¶

Over the next few weeks, she planned to make up for that. She had sworn off post-apocalyptic stories—they were all starting to feel too much the same—but her best friend had recommended one so she had decided to give it a try. She was glad she had. The book was proving to be a fast-paced read with lots of new and interesting twists. She found it easy to escape into the story, which was exactly what she wanted after the long, difficult semester.

It’s about noon and Zane is walking down a highway littered with decaying cars. As he approached a nearby city, most of the cars had cracked or broken windshields. Sometimes he saw the odd humvee or a tank, they made great shelters for nighttime. This is the western apocalypse and it has been hell. He is about 5 '7 with long blonde hair blowing in the wind, a sturdy build, blue eyes with a narrow face, He wears a trench coat to stay warm and has a backpack of limited supplies. He travels alone mostly, at the start he traveled in groups of survivors of twenty to thirty people but they all succumbed to becoming food of the Pales.

He looked at the carnage around him, his face a blank slate of shock. And that’s when it hit me. The final, fragile illusion of society, of order, of help, shattered into a million pieces. This wasn’t a riot. This wasn’t a temporary crisis. The men in biohazard suits, the chained gurneys, the bloody cough, the biting… the gunshot executing the infected. This was the end. The world wasn’t going crazy. The world was gone. This island, this hospital, this room—this was the new world. Shit. This is the apocalypse.

but somewhere along the way, the numbers had stopped mattering. I had seen hungry children fighting over stale bread. Mothers pretending not to be hungry and giving away their last piece of bread to their children to eat. Old soldiers who had bled for the kingdom sleeping in the mud as if their sacrifice didn’t matter. And now, I was staring at the ashes left behind by those who would rather burn the poor than lose power.

A light frown on my face would make him panic. I used to think I was the happiest woman in the world—until that familiar scar appeared in a trending post written by a woman who claimed she had given birth to her best friend's husband's child. It felt so surreal that I could barely believe it, yet the truth sat there on my screen, cruelly crushing everything I once believed.

My eyes widened and I nearly fell off the bed, fearful bumps rising all over my body. ​What in the world? Does this thing want to get me killed? ​Forget the penalty for a second. Just getting close to that madman was enough to get me killed before the timer even ran out! ​There is literally no one in this city who does not know Lucien Giovanni. Even now, while the world is still normal, his name is spoken in terrified whispers. And after the apocalypse began, he became even more notorious. He didn't just survive the end of the world; he thrived in it.

"Food's gonna get cold." The apartment stayed warm from the heat, and everyone ate happily around the table. After dinner, Jeremy volunteered to do the dishes. Hughie and Beatrice laid out some sodas, beers, and snacks. Nicole thought things still felt a little too quiet, so she had the dog carry over the tablet. Before the apocalypse, she had downloaded a ton of movies, TV dramas, and variety shows from different streaming sites to pass the time. Too bad life stayed nonstop after the disaster. Between scavenging for supplies, studying, and farming, she barely had time to watch anything.

Rowan's territory was indeed remote and desolate, but it was nothing like I'd imagined. Word had spread that Rowan and I were coming, because many beastmen crowded the roadside holding gifts they wanted to present to us. They all looked well-fed and healthy, their eyes bright. Even the little ones and elderly were plump and rosy-cheeked. Since the apocalypse began, all the clans had struggled to survive. Food was barely enough to get by, and many older beastmen had starved to death. Those who survived were skin and bones. However, everything was completely different here.