Steampunk Apocalypse Novels & Stories

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

Goodrich and General Motors and Firestone, plus hundreds more, including states and territories of the US of A and the host of sixty-three invited nations. The promise of a brighter future to a Depression-weary society hungering for technological marvels was nearly irresistible. With her love of modern machinery and work-saving gadgets that simplified her life, even Evelyn had been taken in and now felt jaded by it. Like the Fair’s souvenir map booklet was intended to be discarded, even shamefully lavish with its high-quality paper pages printed in brightly saturated colorful candy-coated bites, this shining city promoting utopian equality had been built with labor strife, a place for ‘the p

I only joked back that if some massive disaster ever happened, all of this would come in handy. I glanced at the calendar, surprised by how quickly time had passed. Thankfully, the estate renovations were completed three days before the apocalypse began. Even though I already knew no one could escape tomorrow’s disaster, I still found myself unable to sleep for the first time in ages. As I tossed and turned in bed, a mechanical voice suddenly rang out in my head. [Congratulations, Host. You have successfully bound to the Apocalypse Survival System. Detected: initial shelter renovation completed. Reward points will now be issued.]

Ava's worked best when she refused to let panic become policy. Journalist first. Victim second. Threshold bearer always. Western Gate expansion started with a laundromat, because apparently apocalypse infrastructure cared about rinse cycles. The dryers spun without power, full of paper clothes for the dead. "They need intake." I almost laughed. Aunt Lan pointed her ladle at the altar. "If that thing wants worship, it can help wash bowls." The little god under the stove sneezed ash. Judge Xue murmured, "A surprisingly coherent theological position."

It was the ultimate wipe-out skill. Watching the scene unfold, a trace of fanatic excitement flashed in my eyes. I had gambled right. In this apocalypse where all order had collapsed, Ruth was the strongest cheat code, the biggest powerhouse I could cling to. And Callie’s armored vehicle? What was that compared to this?

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

Ability users’ strength also diminishes when it is used constantly. That is why they need zombie cores to replenish their energy. But in her case, she can drink water from the fountain. She sat down closely beside Adrian and looked at the man in front of her. As expected, there was a calculating glint in his eyes, others may not notice it but she has seen all kinds of people in the apocalypse. She had learnt to be a better judge of character or at least expressions. Even if the man in front of her was expressionless she knew for sure that he was planning something.

] The mechanical voice rang in my ears. At the same second, the power grid died. The internet cut out. Lights in the distance blinked off one by one. It felt like someone hit pause on the world. Even the rustle of leaves sounded sharp. I eased up to the booth window and looked out. Inside my old apartment stood three figures—Alan, Bella, and Dylan. Of course they'd teamed up. A loudspeaker slid out the window. Alan's voice blasted across the complex. "Everyone, the apocalypse has started. I know you're looking for protection. I've got Caucasian Shepherds, a lion, and crocodiles. Any one of them can handle zombies. If you don't want to die, come join me. However..."

"Better than what?" "Better than my timeline." Future Maya's expression darkened. "In my timeline, you didn't go back. The apocalypse happened. Eight billion died. But the survivors... we made worse choices than you're facing now. Victor Kane won. He conquered the entire eastern seaboard. Built an empire on slavery and brutality. By year five, he had ten thousand people under his control. By year ten, fifty thousand. By year twenty, he was preparing to conquer what remained of the federal government in Colorado." "He succeeded?"

​But the liquidation of the uncensored ledger triggered the ultimate, pre-war fail-safe. ​The ceiling of the seventy-second tier didn't just crack; it collapsed entirely, the massive foundations of the upper seventy-two layers dropping down in a terrifying avalanche of multi-ton stone ledgers, iron gears, and boiling sulfur-water. A massive, spinning vortex of raw, un-indexed text and dead ink erupted from the floor of the void, creating a miles-wide drain that began to swallow the surviving automatons, the ruined templates, and the warriors into a single, chaotic pool of oblivion.