The Apocalypse Survival Manual Novels & Stories

The downtown streets were starkly abandoned, save for a few exhausted sanitation workers struggling to push through their shifts. After mapping out the general mood of the city, Willow ducked into an air-conditioned boba tea house to cool down. Browsing her phone while sipping an iced oolong milk tea, she stumbled across a trending online forum thread discussing apocalyptic survival scenarios. Naturally, most commenters treated it as a joke, treating the end times like a sci-fi movie trope. Willow frowned thoughtfully, typing out a quick, anonymous reply on the thread. "Early warning signs of an approaching systemic collapse and how families should prepare..."

“Janet, no one is at fault here. You told people a safe place existed to help them. That's all, and because of your video, a pregnant girl won't have to give birth in a ditch. Five men turned up bad, among the many good ones. You can't blame the post for the five.” “But if I hadn't—” “People are different,” I started. “Some want to survive this apocalypse while others want to rule because they feel no rules exist now. You didn't make Pitbull or the hounds. They were already who they were.” Janet wiped her face with the heel of her hand and nodded, though she didn't look convinced. “A pretty speech,” Selena clapped slowly. “Now what? We feed the animals who put you in that bed?” She turned to

It was four years of repressed rage, four years of quiet submission, and the sheer agony of a horrific death, all bleeding out of me at once. When my lungs finally emptied, I gasped for air, a breathy, triumphant laugh bubbling up in my chest. I felt lighter. Whole and fulfilled. I tapped my chest, feeling the quiet, invisible pulse of the dimensional storage space residing within my mind. Thousands of dollars worth of grain, meat, tools, and purified water were resting silently in that white void. It’s still not enough, I thought, my eyes narrowing. The apocalypse lasts longer than a few months. But food means nothing without walls.

“Sooner or later, you'll need more hands… mechanics, medical workers and people who can maintain generators, repair equipment, manage sanitation and defend this place.” “I have workers.” “Workers who have families somewhere else, workers who may panic when they realize they can't leave.” I went silent. He was right, and I hated that he was right. In my previous life, desperation had turned people into monsters but not everyone. Some people had died helping strangers, others had shared their last meal. The apocalypse didn't create one kind of person, rather It revealed what was already there. Sera tugged my sleeve. “Mommy?” I looked down. “Are those people cold?” My chest tightened. “Yes.”

All she could do was keep the survivors moving. “Water!” Logan shouted. “I've got the water!” “Leave the heavy bag!” “Are you crazy? We need it!” “We need to live long enough to drink it!” The second infected vaulted over a table. Logan dragged the bag toward the counter, but its strap caught on a chair leg. He yanked it free just as the infected slammed into the table beside him. Claire raised the fire extinguisher and squeezed the handle. A white cloud blasted across the cafeteria.

I stared at the list. There was one detail I couldn't fit into any reasonable explanation. The message from the unknown sender had arrived before the system activated. They had known something would happen. Or they had known enough about the facility to anticipate it. I leaned back, pressing my fingers against my forehead. The last thing I needed was another mystery competing for my attention. I had an apocalypse approaching, resources to acquire, and a sanctuary to prepare. District Twelve was supposed to help me accomplish those things. Instead, it was becoming a problem of its own.

But this time, she had sworn to herself that she would do everything possible to save him, no matter what it took. “Listen, Lucian. I know you can't remember what happened in our past life, but this is crucial.” She paused, her voice growing more urgent. “The world is coming to an end in ninety days. I'm not saying this because I want to frighten you. No, I've seen it happen right before my eyes, Lucian. Everything you see around you now will go extinct.” She pointed towards the television mounted on the wall. “This is just the beginning.”

SOME MISTAKES ARE DEADLY... Meet Eva, the creator of the mutants. Or should I say, the Mother of Mutants? After accidentally triggering a mutation that plunged the world into an apocalypse, Eva kept her identity as the mastermind behind humanity's destruction a secret. Living among other survivors, she became their saviour, earning their trust and love while desperately trying to undo the very mistake she had made. But secrets never stay buried forever. What happens when Eva's true identity is finally exposed? What happens when the woman everyone sees as their saviour turns out to be the very reason their world was destroyed? And worse, what happens when she realizes that some mistakes

Torrential rain, tsunamis, toxic fog, extreme heat, extreme cold, earthquakes, insect plagues... One natural disaster followed another as society slowly crumbled. Food grew scarce, cruelty spread, and morality faded. How could humanity survive? In her previous life, Hannah Young died because of her friends’ and relatives’ schemes. With a second chance at life, she used her storage space to stockpile supplies around the world and went on looting sprees! Shiploads of seafood, mountains of fruit and staple foods, an entire port’s worth of shipping containers, a whole lake’s worth of fresh water... She filled her storage space to capacity again and again! Huh? Was there something unusual about h

"I know that you need me, but there are three hundred and forty people upstairs who are going to die in twelve days if I'm not strong enough to stand in battle." The silver thread faded. The picture of the Core began to dim, and in its place the sphere showed the continent again, and the red band in the north, and a single number written in the corner in a hand older than my family. The sphere flickered. A path drew itself in the rock, a narrow black stair running down from the floor of the vault into the dark, ending at a door sealed with a ring of tiny, glowing runes. Beside it a line of text I could not read. Then another, and another, and the light folded in on itself, and the stair vani