Post Apocalyptic Stories Novels & Stories

Summer arrived in full force. The temperature climbed into the seventies. The mountains turned green. Wildlife thrived. The world, for the first time since the freeze, felt alive. And with life came the children. Week twenty-five: Three pregnancies confirmed in the alliance. All planned, all wanted, all celebrated. "First post-apocalypse generation," Sarah announced at council meeting. "These children will be born into the world we're building, not the world we lost. That's significant."

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I looked out at the apartment building in the distance. Flames were shooting into the sky, and faint screams carried through the air. Linda and Tyler had hidden from the zombies by climbing into a dumpster downstairs. They were curled up in the reeking trash, shivering as they fought over half a moldy bread roll someone had thrown away. Meanwhile, I took a sip of hot soup, warmth spreading through my whole body. This was what apocalypse life was supposed to feel like. Over the next three days, I followed Duke’s guidance and swept up supplies from nearly half the city.

escalated—I was now the posthumous disaster manager: cleaning up after carnage, apologizing to neighbors, begging forgiveness, and still having to earn money. At 23, fresh out of college, I had been full of ambition, thinking I could make something of myself. Two years later, I had become the bottom of the food chain, feeling guilty for even stepping over a sewer rat. Looking back, I realized: the four of us, the family I had built, had survived together through every hardship. And now, the apocalypse was coming. With the apocalypse, there would come zombies. Strong, fast, countless. A single bite from those teeth, top and bottom, was lethal.

Aphrodite hovered nearby, barefoot despite the falling debris, her body luminous, lips painted like the fires above, hair drifting in the currents like it obeyed a gravity all its own. “You should’ve stayed dead,” Vaethea hissed, dodging a wave of molten light that liquefied a drone midair. Sparks showered like raindrops on cracked asphalt. “And you should’ve stayed kind,” Aphrodite replied softly, cruelly, flicking her fingers and watching a whole office tower crumble into granular dust that scattered like sand in the wind. The streets below were a chaos of collapse. Civilians ran, some trapped beneath overturned vehicles, others screaming into digital voids as their comms failed, signals l

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’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.

Dan immediately fell silent. In the days that followed, I didn’t rush to kill them. After all, in an apocalypse where supplies were scarce and manpower even scarcer, labor was a valuable resource. I fitted both of them with electronic shackles and put them to work, clearing zombies around the villa complex, tending the vegetable garden, and doing laundry.

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.

"Vaccine?" Willa froze. Crack. I swear I heard it—her plot armor snapping clean. Didn't wait. A vine whipped out from me and smacked her across the face, leaving a red welt. Just as I figured. This was an apocalypse story—and Willa only thrived in ruins. End the world's collapse, and all her privilege goes down with it. Still, I didn't take her or Gabriel out. Not yet. The crimes they committed? The people would decide.

When they finally finished, they dragged me outside into the wasteland. The base had been transformed into a sprawling post-apocalyptic settlement. Burned-out vehicles served as shelters, barbed wire fences marked territories, flickering fires burned in metal barrels, and groups of “survivors”— all rich Club members dressed in ragged, sexy post-apocalyptic costumes— roamed the area like predators. The sky was artificially darkened with massive screens, making it feel like the real end of the world. I was thrown into the center of the main camp, landing on my hands and knees in the dirt.