Post-apocalyptic Novels & Stories

Serelyn’s POV By seven that morning, I had stopped trusting my memory. I opened my laptop and created two columns. FIRST LIFE. THIS LIFE. Under the first, I recorded what I remembered about the weeks before the apocalypse. Under the second, I entered what had actually happened since my rebirth. The differences were small but troubling. Prices were rising earlier than expected. Suppliers were restricting orders, and essential equipment was becoming difficult to source before the shortages I remembered should have begun. My memories were still useful. I knew which supplies would become valuable, which investments could make me wealthy, and what disasters would eventually tear the world apart.

It was comforting, grounding, a reminder that she was not alone. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. But she could not. The heat was too intense, the air too thick. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the night. Dogs barking, sirens in the distance and someone crying. And then, just before dawn, she heard something else. A gunshot, sharp and loud, echoing through the empty streets. The apocalypse had begun. She sat up, her heart pounding. Rafe was already awake, his hand on her arm.

I left the Ancient Blood Home and walked the ruined city again. Broken towers leaned against the red sky. Dust and decay coated the streets, while what was left of humanity stumbled through the wreckage with glowing crimson eyes and minds reduced to base appetite. I regarded them with relaxed contempt. These were the vessels left to me, their blood poisoned beyond redemption by the ridiculous aliens who had once believed themselves born to rule this world. Poisoned wine in cracked cups, unfit for a true throat. I searched anyway.

Amidst the backdrop of a post-apocalyptic world, the refugee shelter stood as a beacon of hope and perseverance. It was a testament to the indomitable human spirit, and within its confines, life surged, thrived, and adapted. A chaotic blend of noises—the hum of conversations, the laughter of children playing, the shuffling of feet—all contributed to a symphony of survival and resilience.

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.

And then everything went dark. Present Day I’m lying down. Awake, but unwilling to move. I know I can’t stay in one place for long. Today’s refuge is an abandoned, water-damaged house, where the makeshift bed of cardboard and filthy pillows is at least dry. You’d think that a year after the apocalypse, people would have adapted. Nope. They just became worse. Men rule the world now. Most women were taken—by the demons of hell, as the survivors call them. The destroyers of our world.

"This is the Elysium Refuge. I'm in charge here." Elysium Refuge. I had heard that before. In the third year of the apocalypse, it became the largest and most stable human settlement known to exist. Rumor had it that it was equipped with a complete defense system, ample food supplies, and even had an ongoing research of the virus. "How did I..." I began, my voice hoarse. "Our scout team found you in the ruins," Iris said, her gaze studying me closely. "You were running a dangerously high fever. Your skin was cracked and healing in cycles. We almost thought you wouldn't make it."

It was the ultimate wipe-out skill. Watching the scene unfold, a trace of fanatic excitement flashed in my eyes. I had gambled right. In this apocalypse where all order had collapsed, Ruth was the strongest cheat code, the biggest powerhouse I could cling to. And Callie’s armored vehicle? What was that compared to this?

All for the crowds, shopping malls, large, tall buildings and towers, popular restaurants like McDonald’s, shopping stores like Macy’s, and coffee shops like Starbucks. This town gives me the impression of being in a post apocalyptic universe where the last of humanity was forced to live in some sort of colonizations, growing their own food, and defending their own territories against intruders, which sounds close to the truth if yesterday’s events were any indication. “We have everything here, why would they want to go anywhere else? Besides, not all of us like to live in a crowded, noisy city. Some of us like the quietness and the simple life that only a small town provides” he said firmly

Excess is permitted. "Good." I pull a notepad toward me. "Because I wasn't planning to stop there." I don't write the list the way the old Abbie would have, wandering the aisles in the order the store lays them out. I write it in the order of things people killed for during an Apocalypse.*Water. Light. Warmth. Medicine.* Food goes last, and it surprises me until I remember why. The people who made it through the first weeks weren't the ones with the biggest pantries. They were the ones who could still see in the dark and still feel their fingers enough to hold a spoon.