The Apocalypse Farmer's Manual Novels & Stories

He looked at the carnage around him, his face a blank slate of shock. And that’s when it hit me. The final, fragile illusion of society, of order, of help, shattered into a million pieces. This wasn’t a riot. This wasn’t a temporary crisis. The men in biohazard suits, the chained gurneys, the bloody cough, the biting… the gunshot executing the infected. This was the end. The world wasn’t going crazy. The world was gone. This island, this hospital, this room—this was the new world. Shit. This is the apocalypse.

The morning’s been almost suspiciously normal. After rogue wolves and fights and running and discovering my life belongs in the fantasy section of a bookshop, I find myself standing in our driveway surrounded by grocery bags. We cleaned out half the supermarket because all of us are still eating like we've been stranded at sea for six months, and judging by the amount of food currently filling the boot, we’re planning to survive an apocalypse. The air smells like cut grass and sunshine. Birds are chirping. It feels so ordinary that part of me keeps waiting for something terrible to happen.

My fingers were covered in grease as I scooped up the mashed potatoes, barely pausing to swallow between bites. Having access to this much delicious food brought genuine tears to my eyes. My mind briefly flashed back to my past life during the apocalypse, where I had survived on moldy scraps and rotten garbage—items that people actively killed each other to obtain. Back then, survival meant choosing between being slaughtered by monsters or slowly starving to death in the dirt. I stuffed another piece of meat into my mouth, chewing aggressively.

After a moment, I finally spoke slowly, "Brother Evan, I didn’t mean to hide this from you. What I’m about to say might sound a little strange." At this point, I trailed off, trying to figure out how to put it into words. Mom placed the fruit on the coffee table and handed each of us a strawberry. "Just say it. It’s all over the news now. How much longer could you have hidden it from him?" "I was reborn," I continued. "In my past life, the apocalypse began on December 12th. I only survived for two years!" "The apocalypse? Reborn? Not a war?" Evan Olson was stunned. His entire worldview shattered.

"First, stock up on food. Buy grains, and vacuum pack by yourself, or buy them vacuum packed. They must be vacuum packed and airtight. If it's possible, get them packed in small increments of half a kg to a kg. Important point is the vacuum pack. If this were a game, you get 1 experience point for a kg of grains, you get 5 experience points for vacuum packed grains. Remember, Even the grains remaining at home must be packed into airtight vacuum packets. " Yanlong told them clearly, point by point. “Don’t worry, Yanlong. I am taking notes.” Her father told her. In the apocalypse, every last grain mutated. Sometimes even the ones packed in airtight vacuum bags mutated too, but the rate is pret

A final, grand feast to mark the completion of our preparations, to reassure Lucien's men that their families were safe, and to celebrate the fact that we were ready for whatever came next. ​Down below, Daniel was helping direct the family escorts, looking completely composed despite the wild night we’d shared, while Lucien stood near the perimeter wall, his massive frame radiating an absolute, unyielding presence that put everyone at ease. ​The sky above was already beginning to darken with the heavy, strange atmospheric pressure that signaled the end of the old world and I looked at the timer ticking down in my system interface. ​The apocalypse was officially coming tomorrow—and we were co

All I could remember was the fact that I had a system, and the apocalypse was coming soon. I withdrew all my savings and stocked up on supplies. There was food, water, medicine, weapons, gas, seedlings… I rushed to all the wholesale markets across the city, buying up everything I possibly could, filling my rented apartment and three rented warehouses to the brim. A day before the apocalypse, I drove out of this city in my modified four-wheeler. It was just that I sometimes felt like there should be someone next to me, but I just couldn't remember who that might be.

I said, stopping to look at the sunrise. "What's that?" "Our absence." The Final Ledger Entry We reached a small farmhouse at the edge of a vineyard. The farmer, an old man with hands like gnarled olive wood, was standing in his doorway, staring at a small, battery-operated tablet. On the screen was a grainy image of the "Signal"—the truth that had set him free from a lifetime of predatory interest rates. The farmer looked at the tablet, then looked at the two dusty, exhausted people standing in his road. He saw the way Ethan held my hand, and the way I stood between him and the wind.

“This is giving apocalypse realness!” “Look!” Tomato squeaked. “There goes the barn!” Indeed, a small shack spun like a child’s toy in the air and landed on a terrified goat, who fainted on impact. Edric, with his kingly composure still intact despite the dirt on his sleeve, took a step forward and calmly—way too calmly—approached the sobbing farmer. “I’ll... compensate you,” he said, watching the last of the wheat disappear into the heavens. “With double. And rebuild your barn. And… maybe throw in a few enchanted cows.”

Before I could say another word, the line disconnected, leaving behind nothing but the hollow beeping tone. The cold grew sharper and sharper, carving straight into my bones. Gritting my teeth, I pulled the blanket tighter around myself. Suddenly, my phone lit up with a notification. I turned my head slightly and saw that Morgan had just updated his social media. In the photo, he wore nothing but a thin short-sleeved shirt with a popsicle hanging from his mouth. 'So lucky Ms. Sheffield brought me a generator, or I would have frozen tonight too.' I stared at the picture for a long time.