Novel & Cerita Post Apocalyptic Graphic Novels

That was also why our security was the best in the whole city. I only found out in my last life that, after the world was hit by the deadly heatwave, a lot of desperate people showed up. In the apocalypse, humanity meant little. Everyone answered only to themselves. But our community was the only one that never got attacked by any looters, all thanks to the top-notch security forces here. It stayed safe until the scientists finally managed to build weather bombs strong enough to fight off the deadly heat, and the heatwave finally ended. Everyone in our community survived.

There are roads with empty cars down below the hill that we are hiding behind, but there are no humans, only old brochures getting carried with the wind. I find it scary thinking that nothing new will be created, the magazines you can sometimes find in abandoned places are the last of their kind. A wind blew past one day, bringing the infection, and then the government dropped a bomb and ended the human era. Hybrids and mutated animals are the new rulers of this world, yet I'm struggling to survive and refusing to die. And after I've found Ryan, we are joining the others to search for a place where we can live. Maybe there are mutated animals suited for farm life.

“After multiple catastrophes all over the globe this morning, government officials are looking into possible terrorist activity. Conspiracy theorist are saying world war is eminent. Religious groups are speaking of end of days…” Ally had passed out hard and must have slept away the afternoon. She awoke to the soft glow of the television. As soon as she stirred Drake turn it off, she was convinced he didn’t want her to hear it. He flipped on the reading lamp, rolled over and moved the hair from her face.

But what happens when one of the adoption sites isn't everything it appears to be? This series includes 3 books so far: The Safe Space (completed), Daddy's Collection (completed), and Teacher's Care (ongoing). All three books have graphic violence, nonconsensual sex, and sexual and physical abuse scenes. 5. Follow me on I*******m under the same name or F******k under Owlonmywrist Author. You’ll find information about the stories that you like, character descriptions, early previews, and my unique sense of humor. Plus, I just love talking to people, so if you just wanna chat, come on over.

There’s nothing left but survival. I stared at the words, my mind spinning. The Burning. That’s what people called it now, the apocalyptic event that had scorched the earth and turned the world into a wasteland. But this person—this scientist—had known it was coming. They’d predicted it. And somehow, they’d ended up here, in this bunker, leaving behind their journal like a final warning. I looked up from the journal, my pulse quickening. This wasn’t just a storm shelter. This bunker had belonged to someone who had known about the end of the world before it happened. Someone who had tried—unsuccessfully—to stop it.

Within seconds, their favorite cartoon filled the room, their attention instantly captured. A light chuckle escaped Ivy as she watched them. For a brief moment… things felt peaceful but then, a memory surfaced. During the last apocalypse… Signals had disappeared, networks had gone down while the world had fallen into silence and darkness. Ivy’s expression slowly hardened as she remembered. She and her children had nearly lost their sanity from the isolation alone. Without hesitation, she picked up her iPad again and began downloading everything she could think of. Movies. Her favorite shows. Novels.....romance, werewolves, apocalypse survival stories… anything that could entertain her or eve

Handwriting from twelve years ago — the strokes heavier than they were now, the flourishes drawn wide and loose, like someone who wasn't afraid of wasting paper. I turned to page twelve. A layout diagram of the bunker. Seven bunks, one incubation unit, the storeroom at the end of the hallway, the concrete-sealed door nearly two feet thick. In the bottom right corner of the diagram, a note in my own handwriting: "The apocalypse has to feel real. Push the heat up, make the water filthy — let the audience practically smell it. Rotate the insiders every season, keep one genuinely unwitting participant — protects the ratings." After "genuinely unwitting," there was a note in parentheses. Just one

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.

The apocalypse did not start with zombies right away. That would have been too simple. First came the drought. The heat was brutal, day after day, pressing down on cities until roads cracked, crops burned, and people started fighting over bottled water in stores that had nothing left on the shelves. The electricity could not keep up. Power grids failed in waves, hospitals went dark, cooling systems died, and people who had spent their entire lives trusting walls and machines suddenly understood how thin civilization really was.