Post Apocalypse Truck Novels & Stories

People who moved had already made a choice. By afternoon, Evelyn joined Rowan near the supply shed, where the visitors were unloading trade goods from the back of their pickup. Up close, the truck looked even worse than it had from the tower. Rust covered most of the driver’s side, and one rear fender seemed to be held together with wire and stubbornness. “Think it survives another hundred miles?” Evelyn asked as she reached for a crate. Rowan glanced at the vehicle. “Depends.” “On?” “Whether the driver loves it enough.”

The bag my mother had packed was getting heavier and heavier with each step. The talking was helping keep my fear of the forest at bay, but now, in the silence, the hooting and howling were getting to me. I rushed up to join Kent. I mean if I was stuck in the Unclaimed Forest with anyone, I would pick the most powerful Alpha. As I ran up to him, I must have stepped into some slippery mud because instead of landing next to him, I slammed into his back. In order to make sure he didn’t fall, he twisted to face me, caught me by my waist and kept me from eating mud. His touch was again warm.

In the end, over two hundred off-road vehicles and RVs, all suitable for post-apocalyptic travel and capable of handling complex road conditions, were collected. Confirming there were no other desirable vehicles in the entire auto park, I put away my pistol and bayonet. Standing at the entrance of an empty dealership, I stripped off my outer clothes and pants, which were covered in gore and foul blood, stuffed them into a trash bag, and tossed it into my space. I then took out the vehicle I had driven there and headed for the park’s exit. As someone with a bit of a neat-freak tendency, I couldn’t get the car’s interior dirty.

The Next Day "Here it is!" Evelina jumped up in excitement as she showed her son the truck she had just bought. Noah stared at it with a look of pure disgust because the truck was nothing like he had hoped for. It was an old, run-down 1957 Chevrolet Task Force with the ugliest shade of blue he had ever seen in his entire life. The vehicle looked like something straight out of Cars after years of being forgotten in a junkyard. Seeing the disappointment on her son's face, Evelina approached him and hugged him as she tried her best to make him see the car for more than what it was.

Jake navigated the tactical SUV through the outer boundary of Dillon, tires crunching over shattered glass and frozen debris. The familiar sights of Joanna’s hometown were heavily warped by the apocalypse. Overturned sedans, abandoned minivans, and rusted city buses choked the three-lane highway, creating a mechanical maze. "Keep us moving, Jake!" Joanna called out from the front passenger seat.

I squealed as a huge smile crossed my face, bracing for impact. The biters staggered toward the truck as if it was fresh meat. A plump older man wearing overalls and middle-aged female wearing a flowery church dress bounced off the bumper, falling to the asphalt. The truck's thick tires easily rolled over their decaying bodies, popping and cracking their bones to pieces. I laughed. "I'll never get sick of that sound. This truck is so frigging awesome." The smile on Thomas's face grew even wider as he aimed for more. "We ain't done yet."

She rolled her eyes but put the gun on its stand. ‘It is unloaded, and the safety is on. It isn’t my first time holding a gun.’ She said, reaching for the MRE packets and reading them. I went to the small bathroom and checked the faucet and lo and behold there was running water still. Alice came to see when she heard the sound of water. ‘What is that place?’ She signed her eyes wide with wonder and excitement. I chuckled. “I think this place belonged to one of those survivalists, but I guess he wasn’t living in this world anymore.” Alice hummed and went back to the supply room.

Apparently, I’d adapted to the Blackwells’ constant vigilance way too fast. Harmony noticed the sudden change in atmosphere around the fire immediately. “Okay, seriously,” she whispered, leaning forward. “What is with everyone around here and dramatic vehicle arrivals?” The truck rolled farther down the ridge road before stopping near the gravel overlook above the shoreline. It was an older model, dark green, with mud splattered thick along the doors. This time, it wasn't Carter’s. The invisible pressure around our fire eased slightly afterward, and Takoda relaxed beside me by maybe two percent.

Before I left, I glanced back one last time. “There’ll be more zombies coming up here soon.” “Good luck.” Linda’s desperate screams rang out behind me. But I didn’t look back. Duke carried me as we charged out of the apartment building. The zombies outside were scattered by the dog pack before they could even get close. “Woof. [Outdoor supply store five hundred meters ahead. Safe.]” “Woof. [Underground garage to the left. Modified off-road vehicle detected. Keys located in the security office.]”

The legal team rejected everything. One file reached my desk only because Professor Shaw asked whether I wanted to see it. It was a recovery trust Dante had attempted to open for me, large enough to cover my medical care, tuition, and living expenses for years. Attached to it was a recording. I did not play it. “Return it,” I said. Professor Shaw nodded.