Post Apocalyptic Science Fiction Novels & Stories

Some doors still hung open. Others had blood smeared across them. No military. No police. No rescue convoys. Only silence, which was broken occasionally by distant sirens echoing through the valley below. The apocalypse had moved beyond panic. Now came the collapse. Evelyn stepped over scattered belongings near the edge of the motel lot while Rowan crouched briefly beside an abandoned SUV. “Tank’s empty,” he muttered. Of course it was. Fuel had already become survival. The electronic tone rang softly through Evelyn’s skull.

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.

It is about the news that nothing in the hospitals around the globe remains operating. "Patients were all turned into zombies, the staff and doctors, the usual. They are either dead or become one of the infected. But before the hospitals shut down, a doctor from Singapore managed to make a blog post, and the blog is some form of a letter for the future." The blog post he was talking about appears in a holographic form floating in each table so that everyone can read it, the blog says, December 3, 2050 Dearest New Generation, If ever the world survives this zombie apocalypse and makes a new generation, I hope you won't experience the same thing we are currently experiencing right now. I hope

Merely minutes in the open, my skin felt like it was scorching. I stayed about a week in the ruins of New York City, finding no one. My artificial intelligence spheres had expanded to 5000, continuously self-replicating. I managed to connect to the old satellites and summoned 200 spheres to venture into outer space, repairing and repurposing the old satellites into new ones. With all communications restored, I learned the grim truth: the world was facing a real apocalypse. World War 3, rampant diseases, and severe climate changes were just the tip of the iceberg.

Ashmor states hopefully. I still can’t control my negativity. “Unless a devastated Earth is no longer a priority.” Ashmor shrugs. Both men are showing their age. They have remained at the controls for more than nineteen years, and every year is etched into their profile, particularly now that their expectations of discovering a new world inhabited by a similar species to ourselves is unlikely. I recall an Earth documentary in which dinosaurs, who roamed the planet millions of years ago, had been made extinct by a single meteor. This time the planet would have been bombarded by billions of cosmic projectiles. It is hard to imagine that any living being would have survived or that any infrastr

It had actually reached from America to the Atlantic! “What is tha…” *Woomp* The next minute the adorations of men turned into screams of horror as what seemed like the apocalypse descended right on earth, as soon as the lights touched earth it went on traveling, moving forward and devouring, anything it touched that wasn’t humanly crumbled up into dust and any living thing encountered turned into oblivion like they never existed. People screamed as they watched this insanity happen, who could ever believe that the apocalypse that would come on Earth would suddenly descend and eliminate all humans without warning?

Saturday morning offered a thin, fragile peace. The wad of cash from Richard was hidden deep in my backpack, a heavy secret, yet a desperate relief. It meant Jasper's hospital bill, that grim monster, could finally be tamed. Mom's cough sounded softer, and Jasper's innocent play filled our small apartment with rare, normal sounds. For a few precious hours, our home felt almost safe.

"Go get some rest. Tomorrow, I'll take you out for a spin—you've been cooped up long enough." Ray ruffled the dog's head. The fur felt soft under his hand, and he couldn't resist giving it a few extra pets. A night passed. The post-apocalyptic world had reached day 80. Ray stayed home all day. After last night's premature scouting, he decided to lay low for a few days. At home, only three women remained mid-evolution, so he figured it was best to wait until they were done.

Endings should announce themselves. A door closing. A siren stopping. Someone saying, “That’s it, then,” with the kind of grave timing that makes everyone look meaningfully at the horizon. Act One of Maya Rodriguez’s second apocalypse ends with Sam arguing that powdered milk should count as food, Nora threatening to reorganize the cleaning cloths by color, Aaron trying to fix a shelf he broke while insisting it was “already emotionally unstable,” and Ben asking whether Gerald needs a watch rotation.

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.