Post Apocalypse Truck Novels & Stories

Their trucks were specifically built to ram any type of car off the road and soldier on unharmed. The driver clutched the wheel, stepping on the brakes to increase acceleration. However, a woman who appeared to be pregnant and two small children emerged from the car, waving frantically at him. The driver of truck 036 was an old man, nearly heading into retirement. Each truck had a designated driver, and the other truck behind him was truck 052. An accident years back had made the truck driver of 036 a widower, killing his pregnant wife and his only son. Though his trauma was still present, it had never affected his work, until tonight. He simply could not run over them, or his wife, child, a

Behind the machine, a line of black Ryder Global trucks sat idling in the rain, their headlights piercing the dark like the eyes of a great beast. And standing on the running board of the lead truck, drenched and looking like the king of the wasteland, was Cole Ryder.

“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.

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.

Some doors still hung open. Others had blood smeared across them. No military. No police. No rescue convoys. Only silence, which was broken occasionally by distant sirens echoing through the valley below. The apocalypse had moved beyond panic. Now came the collapse. Evelyn stepped over scattered belongings near the edge of the motel lot while Rowan crouched briefly beside an abandoned SUV. “Tank’s empty,” he muttered. Of course it was. Fuel had already become survival. The electronic tone rang softly through Evelyn’s skull.

Instead, he pulled out his slim silver phone and tapped a single button on the screen, activating a live tracking application. A sudden, deafening roar cut through the sound of the rain. From the dark entry ramp of the highway behind Noah’s sedan, three massive, identical black commercial trucks came roaring into view, their high beams blinding the entire road. They moved with terrifying speed and precision, forming a tight, synchronized semi-circle that completely pinned Tristan’s SUV against the concrete barriers. Before the three men in raincoats could react, the rear doors of the trucks flew open, and a dozen private security operators carrying heavy carbon-fiber shields and tactical equ

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.

We load my baby with our stuff. Yes, I call my truck my baby. It's a Dodge Ram 2500 fully loaded, with a 6.7L turbo diesel. I got it with a lift kit fully loaded in Hydro blue. She is my baby and will be until I find my mate. I have a twin, Luca. Neither of us has found our mate yet. It is not from a lack of trying. "We don't have all day, bro; now hurry up, "I hear Luca from the passenger side of the truck. I throw my stuff on the back and jump in the driver's seat. No one drives baby but me.

Its flared-out fenders, wide-body chassis, and sporty tires made it look like a street racing machine straight out of a Fast and Furious film. “It’s a nice car. Wouldn’t you say?” Irena eased her way toward Amy, cutting her eyes over at the silver Camaro. “How would you like to be behind the wheel roaring down the highway, trying to chase 2Pac because he ran off with your baby in an armored truck?” Irena pointed over at a black armored vehicle parked near the factory’s garage door entranceway. Amy looked over at the armored truck. The truck was the size of a motor home with a space shuttle design in the front. Amy didn’t like Irena’s game, but she didn’t expect to like it.

Rain and the others also thanked them before Seth led them a few more steps to a beat up pickup truck that looked like it was as old as the mountain it sat within. The paint on the truck appeared to have been red at one time, though much of it was stripped off now, leaving rusty patches on a steel exterior. The camper on the back was a dingy beige, or maybe it had once been white. Seth pulled the tailgate down and raised the top of the camper. Inside, he had padded the bed with several rolled out blankets and some pillows, assuming Mist might want to rest. There were also plenty of supplies--water, extra fuel containers, bags of food, more guns.