Post Apocalypse Truck

Berlatar dimasa setelah terjadinya fenomena Holocaust atau yang disebut di dalam cerita ini sebagai Rapture, tragedi yang membuat setengah dari populasi bumi menghilang. Cuba Toeli, merupakan anak SMA keturunan Italia yang populer karena kemampuan beladirinya yang mampu menghajar 6 anak yang ingin mengeroyoknya. Dia bersama dengan teman-temannya berusaha untuk mengungkap apa yang terjadi. Merasa ada kejanggalan dalam fenomena ini, mereka berusaha untuk mencari petunjuk petunjuk mengenai apa/siapa yang dibalik kejadian Rapture ini. -- Cerita ini merupakan remake dari cerita yang pernah saya buat pada tahun 2016 yang berjudul Apocalypse End, dengan konsep cerita yang sama namun dengan improvisasi jalan cerita, semoga akan membuat cerita ini menjadi menarik. Terimakasih karena sudah tertarik dengan cerita ini, semoga kalian suka!

The government of Galaxy City, in collaboration with a military owned lab in the city, were working on a project that could help resurrect their valiant soldiers from the dead. So that they can continue playing their roles of defending the city from internal and external forces. After years of research by top scientists, they eventually came up with what they called a cure. At first, they were glad cause when they tested it on a dead soldier, he did came back to life but not as a soldier anymore. He came back as a flesh eating demon. To their horror, they realized they created a virus instead of a cure, and in no time it started spreading through out the city. Within few weeks, half of the city was infected and what is left on the street now are zombie walkers. The government tried everything within their power to cover up the proof that the virus has anything to do with them. A certain soldier, called Richard Williams who lost his family to the virus, knew the apocalypse wasn't natural and he vowed he will expose those behind it and solve the mystery..... THE X VIRUS....

I'd been married to Joshua Merck for five years, but we still didn't have kids. To stay healthy, I took those pricey custom vitamins he ordered from overseas—never missed a dose. Then my cousin came back from studying abroad, took one look at the bottle, and was like, "That brand doesn't even make custom vitamins." I sent them to the hospital for testing. The lab report hit me like a truck—birth control pills. Powerful ones. Suddenly, all those mornings with Joshua hovering over me, acting so concerned while I took my "vitamins," made sense. The whole thing had been a lie. Five years of lies. Just as I was gearing up to confront him, my phone buzzed—a group chat notification. Shirley Hoare had tagged Joshua. [Honey, I had a prenatal checkup today, and the doctor said I'm carrying twins! Your family's about to get two grandchildren at once—excited?] My heart turned to ash. Everything clicked. Fine. We were done. I pulled out my phone and replied to my childhood sweetheart's message from three days ago: [After watching the northern lights, I still wanted to see penguins in Antarctica.]

The prophecy about the apocalypse of the wolf clan is gradually fulfilled when all the werewolves in the world suffer from a strange disease, or the ancients think it is a deadly curse. And 18 years ago, Alina was born; she was the only one who miraculously resisted the strange disease. The same unique ability brings countless troubles to Alina's life when she becomes the target of werewolves hunted across the continent. Alina's beloved father and her pack had to sacrifice to protect her. Alina flees everywhere and is captured by Alpha Elmer; she accidentally becomes a test subject. Ironically, on the night of her 18th birthday, Alina discovered Elmer was her mate. However, there are too many misunderstandings between them. Can Alina accept someone who sees her as an experiment? And Elmer, comparing love with Alina and his pack, how will he choose? Will he protect her amidst the stalking of bad guys? Or will Elmer choose to sacrifice Alina to serve his research goals?

I was six months pregnant when my husband, Michael Greene, shoved me off the edge of a yacht during a birthday party. Why? Because Lily Clement, his childhood sweetheart, had fallen into the water, and apparently, the yacht was too small for all three of us. After being pulled from the ocean, suffering from hypothermia and shock, I was taken to the hospital. Doctors determined that emergency surgery was necessary and required a family member's consent. However, no matter how many times they called, Michael never picked up. At the same time, lying in a hospital bed, I scrolled through Lily’s Instagram and saw the post she shared just hours earlier. It was a photo of the two of them, soaked but clinging to each other like lovers out of a movie. "Sometimes love comes from the most unexpected places. Thank you for always being there for me—quietly, selflessly, unshakably." That was all I needed. The day I was discharged, I left Michael a signed divorce agreement. If he wanted to be her knight in shining armor, I’d let him.

On the same day I was admitted into the hospital for my pregnancy, my husband, Charles Page, received 108 missed calls on his phone. It was from Sue, his mentee, a girl who had cancer. I asked if he was going to pick up, and he replied impatiently, "All she does is call me all day! Doesn't she have any other family? She's so annoying." Later, that very girl posted a photo of herself on the hospital rooftop, wearing a white dress. The caption said: [If I jump down from here, will I become a butterfly in my next life? Maybe then, everyone won't hate me.] Charles only glanced at the post before chuckling mockingly. "What does she mean, turn into a butterfly? Is she delusional?" But after that, he grew visibly restless, before rushing out and not returning all night. That night, I hemorrhaged and was taken into emergency care. When the nurse asked if I wanted to keep the baby, I looked at the empty space beside me and answered calmly. "No, I don't."

At the factory, my arm is pulled into a machine. After the surgery, the factory supervisor tells me it's my fault. Because of my arm, the machine has to be shut down for repairs, and every day of downtime will cost them millions. "Someone has to take responsibility for this, Zachary," the supervisor tells me. "It wouldn't make sense to demand millions from you, so just compensate us with 300,000—that's all." Under their threats—and my family's desperate begging—I sign the IOU for 300,000. With one arm gone, I can no longer find a job. All I can do is collect trash to repay the debt. While picking up bottles outside a restaurant one day, I hear the factory supervisor laughing and bragging inside. "Actually, that one-armed guy didn't violate any rules. In fact, the HQ gave three million dollars in compensation. My house and car? All bought with that money," he said. "I mean, who'd ever find out? With that debt hanging over him, he's probably already run off somewhere." Shaken by the news, I stagger onto the street. A truck roars out of nowhere, slamming into me and throwing me 16 feet across the road. When I open my eyes again, I had returned to the day I lost my arm.

Out of the blue, I get a call from the Department of Labor. The officer tells me they received a complaint, accusing me of gender discrimination. Apparently, my treatment of the male and female employees is extremely unequal. I'm left feeling utterly bewildered. Out of compassion for my employees, I give the female employees paid leave during their periods and pregnancy. I also give the male employees the benefit of a family support allowance. I've never discriminated against anyone because of their gender, and neither have I ever mistreated any of the employees. But then, I proceed to see the social media post that has gone viral. "A certain company gives male employees an additional allowance of a thousand dollars a month! Male and female employees are given different treatment!" Having caught on right away, I call a staff meeting and announce, "All of the company benefits have been canceled. You will only receive the basic benefits listed in your employment contract." Everyone goes up in arms.

For five years, I was married to the heir of the Romano family, Italy's biggest crime family. Every night, he'd hold me and whisper, "Just give me an heir, and I'll give him the entire Romano empire." But I never got pregnant, and the Don's disappointment in me grew with every passing month. Until I found out my husband had been secretly swapping my folic acid for birth control pills. I was still reeling from the fury when I saw a post from his ex-girlfriend: an ultrasound photo. Her caption was sweet and smug: “Ten weeks along. Vincent said he can’t wait to meet the baby.” Seeing the flood of congratulations, my mind was made up. I found the contact info for my ex-boyfriend—the one who’d spent the last five years trying to get me back. I sent him a single text. 【Give me one month. Then I’m coming with you.】

In my third month of employment, I realized that my colleagues were calling me an old geezer behind my back. This nickname came from Wanda Stewart’s arrogant and ambitious assistant. I had hit the age of 32, but was still clinging onto the last vestiges of hope of marriage after eight long years of our relationship. I asked Wanda, “Do you know that your subordinates call me an old geezer?” She said without batting an eyelid, “That’s just the way Samuel is. He’s just a straight-talker and he’s just kidding. You’re already 32, are you seriously fussing about this?” She then chuckled, “You two are really alike.” My heart turned cold. Turns out that eight years of my youth were nothing but a joke to her. I turned to leave, resigning from my post and blocking her. Yet, the woman who was always so calm and cool started panicking. “Jansen Graham, please come back to me.”