Survival Fiction Novels & Stories

HELENA Sunrays seeped through the cracks in the wooden walls. It didn’t feel like morning. It felt like survival continued. I woke slowly, my body stiff in ways that made every breath feel like a reminder of what had happened. For a moment, I didn’t move. I didn’t think. Just lay there, staring at the dim ceiling, trying to remember where I was.

He was staring at me with wide, shocked eyes. "Maya?" he whispered. "What are you doing here?" Before I could answer, a crackling speaker came to life above us. [WELCOME TO THE SURVIVAL GAME] [Congratulations, you are all dead! But considering the greenhouse effect, hell is on recycle mode right now, so you are being sent to dead worlds, as entertainment! Please, provide the fanciest death you can, for the audience!] “What audience?!” Damian asked, but nobody, well, no dead body on the bus is in a mood to answer him.

“That’s right. I have never loved you. I saved you, coaxed you, and called you my wife… all because you’re strong and could keep me alive. In this cannibalistic apocalypse, emotions are the most useless thing. Only self-interest keeps us alive. Now that you remember everything, do whatever you want with me. Kill me if you like.” Even as I said that, my nails dug deep into my palms. I couldn’t accept it. Was this really the ending someone like me deserved? Weren’t the truly vile ones Callie and Dan? All I ever wanted… was to survive. Ruth stared at me intently. Just when I thought she was about to crush me like she had crushed countless zombies, she suddenly stepped forward. Then, she grabbed

He traced a small circle around my eye sockets with the laser. "See how her pupils are blown wide? There's nothing in her expression except thirst. That's raw, unfiltered survival instinct. We've been living in civilization for so long, most of us have forgotten what that even looks like." Raw survival instinct? I was crouched in that corner, drinking filthy water, thinking about nothing except whether drinking a little less might mean a little more for Mom and Dad. Love and sacrifice were all I knew. And to them, that was animal instinct?

"How can you be so selfish? The bunker was built with money we all put in! What right do you have to take it all for yourself? Come out and get us! Now!" I let out a soft laugh. "Why the rush? The safe's key and the address of the bunker are both inside. And the password—you already know it, don't you?" From the other end came frantic rummaging sounds, mixed with barely restrained delight. "Found it! We found it!" Leisurely, I leaned back on the sofa and switched to the surveillance feed of the safe. I watched as the three of them crowded around the safe, entering the password. Their faces bloomed with the wild joy of survivors spared from disaster.

Just remember that one day, I'll return the humiliation you gave me today a thousand times over! I couldn't be bothered to argue with him and turned back to the spectator stand. Meanwhile, Harken barely stepped onto the arena within the three-minute mark. The werewolf pack was massive, having developed over thousands of years with countless members. Among them, there were over a thousand young males around 20 years old. Werewolf battles had no fancy tricks. There were just brute power clashes. There were very few rules too. One lost the match if one was knocked off the arena.

(Bright’s POV) This Hunting Game is brutal. It’s not just a friendly game where you try to run away from their tomato guns just so you don’t get eliminated from the game. This is an actual survival game. It’s about strategy, luck, and sometimes, betrayal. I’ve seen some of them that came in groups, but ended up shooting each other. I don't even know why I'm in this stupid thing, but here I am, running, dodging, and trying not to get caught by whatever insane rules they’ve set up.

“The last survivor will receive a free identity document and the right of residency in District 3. As well as a large sum of money.” Listening carefully, I pieced it all together. First come, first served resources meant we’d have to fight each other for them. Alliances meant betrayal was expected and encouraged. And of course there was a prize. Motivation. A reason to do the unthinkable and kill each other off. My blood froze as the enormity of the situation washed over me. This wasn’t just a game; this was a veritable blood bath. I clenched my jaw, my anger simmering beneath the surface.

The second Fiona signed, her eyes rolled back and she collapsed. Tristan was rushed into surgery. Both legs were coming off. The police pulled Rainee aside for questioning. I took Maddie's hand and headed for the evacuation area. The sky slowly cleared, sunlight spilling across the ruins. I breathed in the damp, earthy air. For the first time, I felt free. The debt from my last life had finally been paid—at least part of it. Tristan had lost both legs, and with his twisted obsession, there was no way he'd let this go.

“Jesus. Fine.” He stepped back toward the bedroom, muttering something under his breath about needing coffee. Evelyn barely heard him. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floating blue interface only she could see. 3.7% survival probability. The number sat there calmly. Clinical. Unemotional. As if Evelyn's death were already calculated. A cold knot tightened low in her stomach. In her first life, she and Damian survived almost eight months before the alleyway. Eight months of starvation, infection zones, freezing nights, and watching people become animals.