Romans & histoires Post Apocalyptic Authors

That's what happens in the apocalypse movies," Zylah said with a shrug. Cities collapse and humanity freaks out. I just hope that at the end of this no one will be turned undead. Or, at best, that some dead comes back to life. That statement, somehow, made me sweaty cold. The only consolation of the next day was knowing that all humanity breathed relieved to have gotten rid of a nuclear attack, because everything else was real crap. Miguel and Paul even managed to convince the rulers of our country not to go to war. Both remained alongside the head of state security to prevent him from giving the approval to the war. I didn't know how they found the man's location, if some magic was really a

Dan immediately fell silent. In the days that followed, I didn’t rush to kill them. After all, in an apocalypse where supplies were scarce and manpower even scarcer, labor was a valuable resource. I fitted both of them with electronic shackles and put them to work, clearing zombies around the villa complex, tending the vegetable garden, and doing laundry.

When they finally finished, they dragged me outside into the wasteland. The base had been transformed into a sprawling post-apocalyptic settlement. Burned-out vehicles served as shelters, barbed wire fences marked territories, flickering fires burned in metal barrels, and groups of “survivors”— all rich Club members dressed in ragged, sexy post-apocalyptic costumes— roamed the area like predators. The sky was artificially darkened with massive screens, making it feel like the real end of the world. I was thrown into the center of the main camp, landing on my hands and knees in the dirt.

It was the smile of a predator who had finally been turned loose in a pen of defenseless sheep. This is what I love about post apocalypse the most: they no longer check your crime records. I adjusted my grip on my pack, feeling the familiar weight of the tools I had kept hidden beneath the mundane supplies. I wasn't just here to survive. I was here to thrive. The wall that kept the dead out also kept the living in, locked in a cage where the rules of civilization had evaporated, and where the only thing that mattered was not whether you were a good person, but whether you were still breathing.

We walked back to the bunker quietly. Each one of us was buried deep into his thoughts and his own world. I looked at Alice and wanted to say something to ease her worries, but my mouth didn’t cooperate. I needed some support myself, someone to tell me don’t worry and everything is going to be alright. This situation was fucked up more than that one with the cannibals. At least those monsters didn’t hide their identity or play saviors, but Johnson was like someone was raising cattle, then selling them.

The bandits instantly retaliated and shot the couple dead. The people who'd caused my death in my past life died in this lifetime just like that. And funnily enough, the broken gate—which I'd been worried about—had saved us. … Half a year after the zombie outbreak, we started running low on supplies. The military's rescue teams didn't show up anymore, and we started preparing to head to a safe zone. I'd bought plenty of gasoline before the apocalypse. After Emmett and I checked the car to make sure it was functioning, we finally departed for the safe zone.

I didn’t expect the patch to come so soon. In the second month after the battle, the rooftop radio suddenly crackled to life with a crisp broadcast voice. "The Atlas Geothermal Initiative is now active. Surface temperatures will gradually recover. Rescue is on the way." Rhys and I just stared at each other. So this wasn’t a solo survival game after all. It was online, and the admins had finally logged in. A week later, a military helicopter landed in the open lot. Registration and verification went quickly. The officer in charge clapped me on the shoulder. "Turning the apocalypse into a warehouse operation! You’re one of a kind."

Narrowing her eyes, she asked, "Zayla, he's the one who saved you? But I heard that after the first rescue team left Zone A, the zombies went into a frenzy. By the time the second team arrived, no one who had been left behind in Zone A had survived. How did you make it out?" I wasn't entirely sure what she was getting at. Shrugging, I said, "Does it matter? I'm alive. That's enough." "Of course it matters. The virus wasn't even in Zone A before, and then suddenly, right after you announced your engagement, the outbreak started? A little too convenient, don't you think?" She let the implication hang in the air before adding, "The apocalypse is beyond our control, but we can't rule out the pos

The kind that can only be earned in the face of death. Mr. Yellow sat beside me on the stone ledge, chewing contentedly on a honey bun larger than his head. He sighed dramatically. “Well, that was dramatic,” he said, licking his paw. “But I must say, for a kingdom on the brink of destruction, your people throw a surprisingly tasteful post-apocalypse picnic.” I chuckled, resting my head against the cool stone. “You didn’t help much, you know.” “Excuse me, I organized vegetable warfare. Broccolini is traumatized.”

Old systems collapsed, and while some groups tried to patch things back together, the currents of this new era were way too big for them to steer. New bases or camps rose everywhere. A camp-based civilization was becoming the norm. Anyone trying to bring back the old pre-apocalypse order was just stuck in the past. So nobody should expect the apocalypse to end. That would be a pipe dream. Things would only go back to normal when the virus was totally gone, if that was even possible. The future would be built around bases, and glory would only revolve around camps. Hayley knew they were just small fries back at Base K1, the kind the base wouldn't bother sending rescue teams for. They weren't