Post Apocalyptic Book Novels & Stories

After a moment, I finally spoke slowly, "Brother Evan, I didn’t mean to hide this from you. What I’m about to say might sound a little strange." At this point, I trailed off, trying to figure out how to put it into words. Mom placed the fruit on the coffee table and handed each of us a strawberry. "Just say it. It’s all over the news now. How much longer could you have hidden it from him?" "I was reborn," I continued. "In my past life, the apocalypse began on December 12th. I only survived for two years!" "The apocalypse? Reborn? Not a war?" Evan Olson was stunned. His entire worldview shattered.

I found a wounded giant wolf. After the world ended, I treated him as my strongest fighter and a living source of warmth, curling against him to sleep every night. Later, once he healed, he turned into a man and warned me with a savage look, "I'm the Alpha of a werewolf pack. I have responsibilities to my people. Don't think you can make me stay." And with that, he left. I pulled my ragged blanket tighter, confused. What was he talking about? I had been keeping him as a dog the whole time. What did his responsibilities have to do with me? Later, I rescued a foolish husky from a pile of zombies. When I led him back to my crumbling shelter, I found the heir to the werewolf pack crouched at my

At night, I could hear men wailing, women screaming, and children crying without end. As expected, the most terrifying thing in the apocalypse was still humanity. Weeks passed, and most people had completely run out of supplies. A group of people banded together to head out in search of food and supplies. However, they got into a bloody fight over a bottle of water. Meanwhile, another group of people gave in to their darker impulses and began robbing other households and killing people for supplies.

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.

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.

I looked at it once and turned away. My belongings had been thrown into two suitcases. Old medicine bottles were mixed with clothes, and a photo from my first remission had cracked down the middle. I took only my documents, my research notes, and the journal I had kept through treatment. Everything else could stay. When I came downstairs, the front doors opened. Dante walked in. His wedding suit had been changed, but he still looked like a man who had come from the wrong ceremony. His eyes found me at once, then dropped to my empty stomach. The color left his face.

He posted about his great and daring life, ashamed to come home. Until an illegal base jump ended badly for him in Germany. He was severely injured and started withdrawals while in the hospital. It was Ash's rock bottom. He went to rehab for his addiction problems to mend his mind after his body was mended. And finally, he felt strong enough to come home and face his past after two years of sobriety. Amber was truly glad to see the ginger again as she’d taken a liking to him. Not just because of his pretty face, but also because he still treated Grayson like a tag along little brother. “Hey Ash man, good to see you!”

well, Ayumi is the one who talks about food the most. But the point is, they had stories, families, friends, and all I have now is a weird cat that tried to kill me and a group of ungrateful freeloaders that are just starting to carry their own weight. Perhaps I was better by myself after all, maybe I should just endure until after winter passes and look for a town or city to move in. It's not like I need them anyway, even leaving this place behjind seems like a small price to have some peace of mind.

D_Novel’s Book 3 will be released in the next few weeks, please check on my account incase i have already uploaded it, once released it will be uploaded daily (hopefully) so please give it a go, this book is only book 2 in a 10 book series so there is plenty more for you to read so please follow me, comment, leave a review and most of all enjoy! Much love from your friendly neighbourhood writer, J.D ;)

escalated—I was now the posthumous disaster manager: cleaning up after carnage, apologizing to neighbors, begging forgiveness, and still having to earn money. At 23, fresh out of college, I had been full of ambition, thinking I could make something of myself. Two years later, I had become the bottom of the food chain, feeling guilty for even stepping over a sewer rat. Looking back, I realized: the four of us, the family I had built, had survived together through every hardship. And now, the apocalypse was coming. With the apocalypse, there would come zombies. Strong, fast, countless. A single bite from those teeth, top and bottom, was lethal.