Sci-fi Post Apocalyptic Novels & Stories

After returning to Camp Arthor, I settled all of Sasha's paperwork and placed her at the hospital while Leo stayed by my side and followed me around. "You know that you don't have to keep following me around, don't you? I'm just a regular researcher now," I said with a sigh. After arriving at this base camp, the water crisis had been temporarily resolved for now. But there was an even greater challenge on the way, and it required more attention. Every researcher was desperately trying to find a way to end the apocalypse.

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.

The apocalypse did happen. But it wasn't the end of the world. It was the start of a tyrant world ruled by a superior race—the bloodsucking kind. I had been running away from this nightmare-come-true for four years. Our family hid underground from the global chaos that went around the continents. The global domination was led by the newcomers. In fact, the newcomers were not new but rather ancient. We remembered learning in school that Homo sapiens were not the only species to walk the earth, and we were right.

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

Aside from that, we worked out how to keep an eye out for more survivors out there, and that's what we all agreed on, so we'll also have to move out here even if this place was an ideal place to stay with. I cast a peek across at Diana, who was eating poached eggs with prosciutto and red and green bell pepper. I've caught her looking at Justine and Ricky with the same expression I do, and I know she's thrilled to finally be on the road. The earlier we go, the earlier we may be able to rescue what remains of the civilization. I only hoped we won't have to suffer too long. If we're living in a post-apocalyptic world and don't realize it, our likelihood of reaching it to Saratoga and then Clint

When will people understand that this is my world and they were just living in it? But not for long, because with the love I have for you, the place will implode and they will need to find somewhere else. For now, we will enjoy each other's company, like just yesterday. We went on a road trip just to go fishing. Two days before that; we flew to France for the film festival. We had sex on the private jet, in the elevator and the hotel's pool. And now, you are at my place, watching animes and basking in the afterglow of sex.

It was the sound of a book closing. --- ### The Southern Estate The drive lasted for hours. I sat in the back of the car, staring out the darkened windows. The wasteland of 2026 was a nightmare. I saw ruins of malls, skeletal remains of highways, and groups of "Omegas"—humans who hadn't shifted or had lost their packs—huddled around trash-can fires. This was the "Real World." A world of starvation, hierarchy, and teeth. And then, we crossed a bridge.

"The delegation leaves in three days. We'll return with either alliance terms or relocation plans." That night, Maya received a message from the unknown number. First contact in over a week. *You found others. Thousands survived. The government endures. Civilization continues. But Maya—it's not the civilization you tried to save. It's built on triage, on calculated worth, on ruthless efficiency. Every major shelter implemented similar protocols. The survivors are the ones who were willing to make the hard choices. Your compassion didn't survive the apocalypse. Catherine's pragmatism did. The question is: what will you do about it? Accept the world that emerged from the ashes? Or fight to mak

A killing machine like that could only be appeased, not provoked. Night fell like a giant black velvet cloth that slowly covered the entire city. Victor strolled leisurely towards Stanley's apartment. The entire apartment complex was filled with the smell of smoke. Metal debris scattered everywhere, but the surroundings were eerily quiet. The initial chaos of the apocalypse had mostly settled down. The unfortunate ones were dead, those who could hide already did, and the mechanical creatures had either been exterminated or were lurking in the shadows, waiting for their chance to strike. In fact, Victor had already spotted several mechanical creatures hiding in the darkness within the apartme

He had dark curls, green eyes, and a calm smile that carried no pity. “Miss Vale?” I looked at him. “I’m Adrian Bellini. My family funds part of Professor Shaw’s closed project. She asked me to make sure you got back safely.” I remembered Professor Shaw mentioning the Bellini family once during a project meeting, but I had never met him before. “Hello, Mr. Bellini,” I said. Behind me, Dante did not follow. This time, I did not look back. The car door opened. Beyond the city, the institute waited: the lab, the project, the life I had once thought I would never live long enough to claim.