Sci Fi Apocalypse Books Novels & Stories

I found a wounded giant wolf. After the world ended, I treated him as my strongest fighter and a living source of warmth, curling against him to sleep every night. Later, once he healed, he turned into a man and warned me with a savage look, "I'm the Alpha of a werewolf pack. I have responsibilities to my people. Don't think you can make me stay." And with that, he left. I pulled my ragged blanket tighter, confused. What was he talking about? I had been keeping him as a dog the whole time. What did his responsibilities have to do with me? Later, I rescued a foolish husky from a pile of zombies. When I led him back to my crumbling shelter, I found the heir to the werewolf pack crouched at my

Apocalypse My mind barely registered all the sirens out there, ambulances, firetrucks and arrays of police cars. I was still basking in the aftermath of the chaos and despair. People were still screaming and crying. My smile widened at their suffering. Those fools Finn and Xalvy thought they were going to stop me. I clenched my hands at the mere thought of their names. They are in for a rude awakening. I’m not that defenceless and pathetic woman from so many years ago. Subconsciously, I bared my teeth at the thought of the past.

At night, I could hear men wailing, women screaming, and children crying without end. As expected, the most terrifying thing in the apocalypse was still humanity. Weeks passed, and most people had completely run out of supplies. A group of people banded together to head out in search of food and supplies. However, they got into a bloody fight over a bottle of water. Meanwhile, another group of people gave in to their darker impulses and began robbing other households and killing people for supplies.

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.

People still checked phones with no signal, locked doors that ghosts ignored, and argued about property lines while the dead waited politely on the sidewalk. The strangest part was how ordinary fear became once it had chores. A man could be terrified of his dead wife in the mirror and still ask where to put donated blankets. A child could carry incense with both hands and complain it smelled like old homework. No one got used to it. They only got better at moving before fear froze them. Zhao Feng's burning whistle dragged him back by the ankle. The living survivors saw it on every incense flame. For the first time since the apocalypse began, gods looked afraid of human law.

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.

Warning: contains dark erotica themes such as non-consensual and/or violent sex Enter at your own risk! The Earth African Continent, Johannesburg Year: 2071 A deadly and extremely contagious synthetized virus breaks out into the world, swiftly taking the lives of millions... The entire society of the planet fastly collapses into a pit of constant war and chaos, reduced to their early ancestors’ primal behavior... Maddened by the fear of facing a violent and excruciatingly painful death caused by the novel virus, Earth’s inhabitants immediately succumb to a reality of savagery, guided by the basic instinct of survival.

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.

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.

And tucked against my chest, warm and steady, my son is narrating the apocalypse. “The Rage has breached the third defensive construct,” Confluence says thoughtfully. “Madness favors illusion over reinforcement. It’s a flawed strategy against something so direct.” “You’ve been alive less than an hour,” Alistair growls. “I’ve been aware far longer,” my son replies. We crest a rocky incline, joining the stream of refugees fleeing in the opposite direction of whatever cosmic horror now tears at the world behind us. Wolves. Humans. Children. Some barefoot. Some bleeding. All terrified.