Post Apocalyptic Gold Hunter Chapter 1 Novels & Stories

It was a decent amount of money in normal times. When the world collapsed, money would be worthless. What mattered was stockpiling massive amounts of supplies. Cyrus wanted more than survival. He wanted comfort, security, a life worth living even in the apocalypse. Food, entertainment, little luxuries. Without them, one's sanity would crack. He would need weapons as well if he wanted to stay alive and take revenge. Then a streak of white light flashed before his eyes. He rubbed them, thinking fatigue played tricks, until a strange pulse stirred in his mind. The light was not outside—it was inside him, part of him.

I'll just reheat it later. I was about to grab my coat when the door swooshed open, a loud bang reverberating off the walls letting the cold breeze in. I shivered. Hunter walked in, kicking the door closed behind him before we locked eyes. I gulped, guilt washing over me for some reason, not just because I gave Axel what were supposed to be his hamburgers, but because of this nagging feeling telling me something was off. We locked eyes and he halted in the hallway. There's something different about his eyes. They're not amber, but gold.

Maybe she's looking for me? I'm not sure what a hunter is but Addie is my hope for rescue. If Rainn is the guy from the bar, then she's with the other gorgeous male that made my heartbeat. I now have a way to drown out all the pain and suffering and this will be my new happy place. "I told you that I would help you and I intend on doing so. Having the hunters dead is going to be beneficial to all our business. We just can't do anything rash that would get the attention of the council.

Silver energy burst through the forest destroying the restraints completely while power slammed through the trees like a shockwave. The hunters stumbled backward immediately. Too slow. I grabbed the nearest one first and drove my fist directly through his chest. Blood sprayed across the forest floor. The hunter stared down at the hole through his body almost calmly. Still smiling. Goddess these people were insane. “You’re already too late,” he whispered weakly. Then his body started turning to ash. No. Absolutely not. I grabbed him harder immediately. “Who are you?” Ash spread faster. “The storm king rises again…”

She looked up and saw the dark figure at the alley entrance. Not police. Not human. A hunter. End of Chapter Three ………………. Who sent the hunter after Grey and why now? Can Mira save the man she never wanted to need before the poison takes hold?

Justin reached for my hand, wanting to comfort me, but the feeling of doom had already set in. “It’s all ripped, all of it!” I pressed my hands to my burning hot cheeks. “They got here first and destroyed everything, Justin. We will never find it in here. Never.” “No, Helen, don’t go giving up just yet,” he said, kicking a pile of books away with his foot. Underneath a pile of shredded book papers sat a pretty, gold key, swirly and ornate at he tip. “We might not be in the right room after all.”

Her eyes fell on a book with a black cover, the gold letters reading: “The Art of Breaking Chains.” She pulled it free, curiosity winning, and curled into his leather chair. The chair was far too big for her, swallowing her small frame, but she felt oddly safe in it. Before she realized, her eyelids grew heavy. The book slipped onto her lap as she drifted into sleep. Hunter returned late, his mood thunderous after the ring, after Geret. His mind was sharp, his body burning with violence he hadn’t been able to unleash fully. But the instant he stepped into the quiet house, he sought her.

Games are so scarce recently even though the entire world has become one big jungle. After the pandemic and the chaos the world went through, Mother Nature claimed everything. Entire cities turned into green, lush forests, but it was useless. There were no edible fruits to eat or clean animals to hunt. It was a sick and twisted joke from the gods. I got my backpack and sword and headed to the first trap we had made and as expected I found nothing. The second one had a small rabbit. I caught it and cut off his head and skinned it quickly and strapped it to my backpack.

Later she would think it was both at once — the kind of thing that has no initiator because both people arrived at it from the same direction at the same moment, which was the truest thing about them, which had been the truest thing about them from the beginning: they kept arriving at things at the same time, from different routes, to find each other already there. The workshop was cold and smelled of sawdust and the chair stood in the morning light and outside the bright November day went on — the blue sky, the serious cold, the silver maples dropping the last of what they had to drop — and Eleanor Ashford stood in a workshop behind a gas station in a town she’d found by running out of gas

The world went white, but the story did not end. In the center of the void, a single, handwritten sentence appeared in ink that looked like blood and violet light: "CHAPTER ONE: The girl woke up in a world where the stars were made of wood, and the man beside her remembered her name before she did." Beneath the text, the gold coin—now purely, blindingly bronze—began to spin, a compass seeking a north that had not yet been created.