Novel & Cerita The Last Survivor Book

That's the main reason you should come home " Mrs. Morgan said and Steve sniffled. "C'mon... We've talked about this already. There is still one Werewolf alive...." He couldn't complete his statement when his wife interrupted on the phone. "Oh spare me those crap, Steve. Like seriously? That is total bullshit! You and your crew have been hunting for that last Werewolf for more than five years now and not even a sign of him has been found. Isn't that creepy? How are you even sure he's still alive? Werewolf hardly survives without their families!" Mrs. Morgan is true and convincing.

“We survived. There’s a difference.” He stepped beside her. “And what now?” Alma turned to him. “Now I live.” She kissed him, not as a weapon. Not as a prototype. But as Alma. Woman. Survivor. Lover. Behind them, Nova smirked. “You two better enjoy the peace. Because in my experience it never lasts.” And somewhere in the shadows of the world, screens flickered. The Primogenitors were not all dead. And one of them had just awakened.

A paper book rested in his hands while multiple surveillance feeds played silently across the large screen before him, displaying views of both the interior and exterior of the bunker. After the Frostfall, without the burden of work, his life settled into a steady rhythm. He had grown fond of reading. Some books had come from the library. Others had belonged to Severin. The one in his hands now was "Ordinary World" by Lucas Wayworth. Reading it in this era carried a strange weight. The ordinary days described in its pages were gone forever. The ordinary world itself now lay buried beneath endless ice and snow. Yet one thing remained unchanged. Human beings, resilient by nature, would struggl

"Love that deep, that complete, you only get it once in an eternity. I had mine and lost it. Don't waste yours, child. Fight for Xavier with everything you have." Thelma's hand touches my shoulder, a gesture of comfort I don't deserve. "I'm sorry." "So am I." I straighten, pushing the grief down where it always lives. "But we don't have time for my ancient sorrows. Look." Below us, the Survivor Camp comes into view. Or what's left of it. The battle is over, but not the way we hoped. Bodies litter the ground, human and supernatural mixed together in death. The defensive positions have been overrun. And in the center of the devastation stands Yvonne, looking shell shocked and alone.

She knew I could see it. Only she and my grandmother knew that name. "I’m so happy… my Nia has grown strong in a place I couldn’t see. I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you." I shook my head through tears. I was happy too; I had never thought I’d get to see her again. "As long as you’re happy, I’ll be happy." In the end, I woke slowly on the operating table. The world had returned to normal. Winson was imprisoned for rape, tax evasion, and unlawful confinement.

Both Carter and I asked, impatient for his succeeding statement. “As I said earlier. There was only one survivor. The two of them died. And I heard it was such a gore sight to see.” There was a dead silence when we heard that. I brushed my hair in anxiousness when Gamma Rex dropped that bomb on us. I thought he was done, but it turns out he wasn’t.. “And the survivor was.. heavily injured. He barely made it out alive..” We nodded at his words, and I dismissed him. “Thank you for your honesty, Gamma Rex.”

Then they vanished. They were edited. Messed up. Shut down. Still I dug deeper. I need pieces of information. Always pieces. Reports from years ago. Different places.. Same pattern. “Not much blood.. Picked targets. People who survived.” Every file ended the way. They were. Stopped. Not solved.. Hidden. My heart stayed calm.. Something else got tighter. Then I saw it. A name that wasn’t fully erased. “Cassian.” No last name. No where he was from or destination. It was there.

I said. In my past life, I'd witnessed too many occasions of humans turning out to be more savage than zombies when they wanted to eat. They would do everything they could to get a mouthful of food. After the zombie outbreak, morals and laws meant nothing. Survivors would do anything to stay alive. The bad memories made me tremble uncontrollably, but a warm hand on my cheek pulled me back to my senses. Mom said gently, "Things must've been hard for you, sweetheart."

"So my mother is part of this too?" Samuel nodded. "She always has been." Sophia suddenly looked toward the camera. "Emma!" Her voice was weak. "Don't trust him!" Samuel turned toward her. Sophia screamed, "Don't go to the Atlantic!" Samuel pressed a button. Sophia's image disappeared. Emma stepped toward Samuel. "What did you do?" "Nothing." "You hurt her." "No." Samuel smiled. "She simply doesn't understand." "Understand what?" "That she was the first person to survive the Black Signal."

The survivor laughed softly. "No." The cracks widened. The creator's pressure slammed against the white space. Reality shook. The survivor didn't move. Didn't flinch. Didn't even seem concerned. Which somehow felt terrifying. "You are interfering again." The creator's voice echoed from everywhere. The survivor looked upward lazily. "She's not your experiment." Silence. The words hit hard. Experiment. Again. The creator didn't deny it. Because it couldn't. The survivor's expression darkened. "I watched seventy-three worlds die."