Post Apocalyptic Science Fiction Novels & Stories

It looked like a solid wall of black glass, towering higher than the fifteen-story hotels on the boardwalk, moving with a terrifying, silent speed toward the heart of the city. ​The coastal villa. Marcus’s perfect, reinforced five-million-dollar sanctuary. It would have been hit first. Right now, Marcus was likely realizing, in total, blinding dark, that his security teams and his stolen supplies were trapped inside a beautiful cage with no exit. ​A cold sense of victory flared in Vivian’s chest, but it was instantly snuffed out by a sudden realization that made her blood turn to ice. The timeline has completely fractured. In her memories of the future, this first coastal breach shouldn't ha

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

The biological power output matches a Tier 2 Awakened individual. My breath caught. An Awakened person? This early in the apocalypse? I thought they wouldn't appear for at least another two weeks. The people who gained powers early in my past life were all terrifying, ruthless warlords who ruled over the ruins of the cities like gods. They were monsters in human skin. I didn't move, my ears straining to hear any sound over the truck's rumble. From the corner, a shadow detached itself from the wall. It didn't make a sound. No footsteps, no rustle of clothing.

It is only because of this job she could go home, relax in her tub and read a web novel before sleep even after the apocalypse. Her favorite are rebirth apocalypse novels and dashing hero ones. After all, we only ever like fantasy when reality is utterly disappointing. There is no way to reincarnate even with all the weird abilities going around. If there were any good men in the world, they did not survive past the first week of the apocalypse. She knew very well what she would do if she were the lead of either story. If she were to be reborn before the apocalypse, she would blow her brains out after killing her entire family.

"The year is 3557. Sooner or later it would have to happen. Our Sun has increased dramatically in size, destroying the surface of the planet Earth city and almost all life, and then it began to decrease sharply, lowering the temperature of the planet to -120 Kelvin. Those who survived called the Apocalypse a "Cryogenic explosion," and some of the survivors proclaimed themselves a tribe of " Born in darkness." I am one of the few embroiderers who have become part of this tribe. We started living underground in a city we built called "shelter," and due to the lack of sunlight, we developed white skin pigmentation and new diseases. Not only have we changed our appearance, but our DNA has change

She was trying to reach her, but her bas**** ex was holding her, keeping her from using water ability to save her. When the meteorites scattered across the globe, some people developed abilities almost the same time the undead appeared. The sky was bright red, explosions, screams in every direction. Chills crawl on her back, recalling what would happen a year from now. Her revenge for every suffering will be done slowly because preparing for the approaching apocalypse matters more. In the future, food and water will be scarce. Guns will be more valuable than gold and jades. There will be safe military and clan bases emerging but still needed some points from working and trading for food.

I lifted my head to see what happened to Apocalypse. To my surprise was there a big hole in the ceiling and lots of debris and rubble mixed with wooden beams. I got up and walked over to what was over of the ceiling. I heard some groans coming from under the debris. Apocalypse was barely alive and stuck under big stone pieces and wooden beams. “You have to do better and more than this to stop me, you pathetic woman.” She coughed and spitted a clot of blood.

Futurama depicted an American landscape where automobiles would become the dominant form of transportation, flowing efficiently and delivering their precious passengers along divided superhighways allowing for high-speed travel with a double-decker design that allowed pedestrians to dominate through beautifully developed towns and cities. With moving light, inspiring audio and color effects, Futurama prophesied an American utopia enhanced with an assortment of cutting-edge technologies, the stuff of wildest imagination. Remote-controlled semi-automated vehicles, industrial power plants supplying everyone with power, farms growing artificially produced crops and aeration plants to purify and

This collection was going to be a piece of cake, just as the rest of our stay in this post-apocalyptic world had been. Justine paved the charge to the front door, and Diana and Ricky separated to join Dr. Melendez in the control room to watch the gathering. We ended up waiting for Dr. Melendez to unlock the gate, and I almost shuddered. There was a new layer of accumulated snow on the ground, crunching beneath my shoes, and I drew my coat tightly about myself, struggling to remain warm. I only prayed my mittens wouldn't get in the way of my capability to squeeze the trigger on my handgun, but I couldn't take them off and jeopardize my fingers becoming desensitized and uncooperative.

I had underestimated just how shameless they were. She continued, "Each of them is built like a tank. It's the end of the world. Why would they settle for taking orders from you? Even if you have all the money in the world, what does it matter?" It hit me all at once. Victoria was right. In the apocalypse, no one wanted to be under someone else. The man whose arm had been snapped on the first day cursed beside her. His resentment was obvious. "Stop wasting time talking to him. I say we break the door down right now. I'll cripple him myself and throw him out to the zombies."