Novel & Cerita Reborn 60 Days Before The Apocalypse

"I'm trying to help. The strain is unstable. If I could just run some tests—" "Tests?" Harrison laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You want to run tests on a billion-dollar project after breaking into a secure facility like some kind of criminal?" "I wouldn't have to break in if you would listen to me!" Violet's voice cracked. "I've been trying to tell you. The outbreak is coming. We have less than two weeks now, and if we don't—" "There she goes again," Alicia said softly, her voice dripping with false concern. She turned to Harrison, placing a delicate hand on his arm. "The apocalypse. The zombies. The rebirth. It's the same story over and over."

"That government official on the emergency radio broadcast claiming humanity will safely rebuild? What an absolute, sickening joke." Listening to their arrogant, sociopathic laughter echoing from afar, a dark, suffocating rage boiled up fiercely in my chest, threatening to consume my reason. In my previous, agonizingly brutal life, when the true viral outbreak officially hit the country, over a billion innocent human beings perished within thirty agonizing days. Less than ten percent of the global population successfully survived that terrifying first month of carnage. The ones who miraculously made it through didn't have a single second to spare for celebration or mourning; every waking sec

She had seen this exact nightmare unfold in her past life. The world was ending, just like she knew it would. Her mounted phone rang, displaying Tristan's name. She tapped the hands-free button on the steering wheel. "I'm listening." "Are you watching the news?" Tristan’s voice came through the speaker. "City defenses collapsed completely within the last two hours. The infected are pushing into the suburbs now. This whole situation is going to get ten times worse by nightfall." "I know," Felicity replied smoothly, keeping her eyes on the winding path ahead. "That's why we stay off the main roads and keep moving."

The woman in the circle looked at her for a long moment with an expression of weary and absolute contempt. She said that Joss knew very well who she was, because Joss had stood at her grave. She had been the eleventh Emilia Anderson, the last one the door had spared, and she had spent six years in a ruined world that Joss had built on a foundation of bones. She had come back through the seam in the sky because it was the only way left to reach the girl she used to be.

​I shoved the heavy corpse off me, gasping for air, blood oozing from a deep scrape along my forearm. ​Derrick was on his knees beside me, his hands bloody, his chest heaving as he stared down at the twitching monster I had just killed. The icy wall of hatred and stubborn denial in his eyes had completely shattered, replaced by the horrifying, undeniable truth of the apocalypse. ​He looked up at me, his voice trembling as he reached out a shaking, grease-stained hand to help me up. ​"Evelyn..." Derrick choked out, the walls finally giving way. "What... what do we do now?"

He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the exit. Outside, everything had descended into chaos. Cars had crashed into one another, their horns blaring continuously, people ran through the streets, screaming as the infected chased them. Smoke rose from a building several blocks away, and the smell of burning rubber filled the air. My stomach twisted, the apocalypse had begun. Thirty days. My system had promised me thirty days to prepare, but everything had changed overnight. Where had my supplies gone? Why had the outbreak started early? And why had my system warned me about Adrian?

After nine months of apocalypse, the world was trying to come back. I looked at Tiny Elena asleep on her mother, at my belly with two boys who would be born into a world that might be rebuilding, at Killian who lost a brother yesterday and gained a niece today. "EVA, record this," I said. "Day 87 of apocalypse. Infant Elena Thorne cried for first time. Real cry. Weight 1.42 kilograms. Father Keon Thorne died yesterday trying to reach us. Mother Bianca Cole holding her skin-to-skin. Father figure Damian Cole in isolation with fever 38.7. Mother Elena Thorne pregnant with two sons, five months. Bunker father Killian Thorne standing. We are alive. We are family. End record."

“I don’t care if you’re a god or the devil himself. Give me my second chance. I will drag every single one of them to hell myself.” [Selection Confirmed.] [Congratulations, Host! You have been successfully rewound to 29 days before the Glacial Apocalypse.] [Main Directive: Stockpile supplies, build your fortress, and avenge your previous death. Good luck!]

Jake clenched his fist, extinguishing the flame and continued, "When I was injured before, I developed a high fever. But when I woke up, I had the ability to summon fire." One of the injured soldiers hesitated before asking, "Captain, do we really have hope?" Jake nodded and replied, "I have noticed that those who mutate usually show symptoms within two hours after being bitten. If you haven't turned by then, there is a chance you will awaken an ability instead. So far, the only sign of awakening ability that I know of is a high fever." His gaze swept over them as he continued, "For the next two hours, each of you will be tied up and supervised by five men. If any of you show signs of turnin

“I was going to send roses. But fire seemed more fitting.” The feed glitched briefly, then returned. “You burned down my sanctuaries. Killed my agents. Stole my network. Now I offer you an invitation.” Behind him, shadows moved. Other men, silent. Faces masked in crimson. Donatello continued, voice low and steady. “Seventy-two hours from now, the world will bleed again. We call it the Red Reaping. A global relaunch. New routes. Old names reborn. Every girl we lost will be replaced. Every city you touched, repaid.”