Kentucky, a few miles south of Corbin

Cracker Barrel was always a favorite stop for Roland. He’d run this route every week for the past five and a half years and for the first time, and after many tries, he mustered the nerve to ask her out. She turned him down flat without any indication of genuine attraction.

Suddenly realizing her attentions were all …

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The Day—Outside

The small but prepared group went to stores in both Corbin and Williamsburg that morning. Simon, his wife, Sarah, Andy, and his young daughter, Addie, all went to Corbin with Simon’s SUV and Andy’s truck. Both of them now pulling empty trailers, while the other group headed out pretty much the same only south. They didn’t want to deplete…

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The day before—Middlesboro, Kentucky

By the time Simon phoned Andy at eight that night, the nosy neighbor had left, but not before he’d burned the chicken to an absolute piece of charcoal. The conversation between them was a cross between funny and scary.

Andy laughed a little, but it was an uneasy one. “I’m serious, Simon. The freaking guy was annoying …

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Cheyenne Mountain Complex - Earlier

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I am beginning to suspect that physical therapists are just very pleasant people who found a socially acceptable way to torture others. The knee continues to recover. It bends. It straightens. It does most of the things knees are generally expected to do, which I suppose is progress.

My last physical therapy appointment, however, nearly killed me.

But there was a point when my therapist was asking me to not only do exercises but with weights attached to my ankle, and I began reconsidering every life choice that had brought me to that particular table. The next day I felt like I was back at week one and could barely make my leg move under its own power

The good news is that recovery continues. Slowly. Sometimes painfully. And with an alarming number of people telling me, “That’s really good!” while I am actively questioning whether I am going to survive.

So, you know. Progress.

One More Book—But This One Is Special

I also had the honor recently of helping with the publication of a book for Rebuilding Hollers, a nonprofit doing important work for communities of western North Carolina still recovering from Hurricane Helene.

This wasn’t one of my books, but it was one I was incredibly proud to have a small part in helping bring into the world. Sometimes publishing gets to be about more than stories, sales, rankings, and all the other things we spend so much time worrying about. Sometimes a book gets to help do a little good in the real world. I’ve had the privilege of an early peek into this book, and it is a gripping story of perseverance and heartbreak. 100% of the proceeds go toward rebuilding what so many lost!

If you’d like to support the project, please take a look. Buying this one doesn’t just add another book to the shelf—it helps support the work behind it. And that feels like a pretty good reason to make room for one more.

Amazon Kindle

Preorder Signed Copies

Meanwhile, I’m Still Building the End of the World

Because apparently recovering from surgery wasn’t enough to keep me occupied, we’re also getting closer to launching The Age of Fire & Ash this fall.

This world has been a long time in the making, and now we’re in that strange and exciting stage where it is becoming much bigger than the story I originally sat down to write.

Fire & Ash started with one story for my thesis and then demanded a history. And a world. And then more stories. Fictional worlds are needy like that [pffft go figure].

Now, other authors are stepping into it too, bringing their own characters, corners of the world, disasters, survivors, and probably a few people who are going to make extremely questionable decisions after civilization falls. Anyone who might be considering a new writing project is welcome to have a peek and see if it might be something for them as well… There is room for series, standalone, and short story options within anthologies coming out soon.

I cannot begin to tell you how much fun it is watching a world that lived in my head for like the past two years start becoming something other writers are helping build.

A LOT is happening behind the scenes right now as we prepare for the fall, and I’ll be sharing more as we get closer.

AND… A few new projects in the works that are pretty amazing themselves, but shhhhh that is for later!

Today though, I have books.

Because despite everything else going on, my primary purpose around here remains enabling your reading problem.

First: A Free Book From a Friend

One of my author friends has a book available FREE, and naturally I felt obligated to bring this information to the attention of people who have demonstrated very little resistance to acquiring more books.

Go grab it while it’s free. Your TBR pile has already given up trying to reason with you.

And Because One Book Would Be Far Too Reasonable...

I’m also participating in a BookFunnel promotion, which means there are even more books waiting to be discovered.

Including mine.

Take a look, find something new, and remember that downloading books is significantly less painful than physical therapy.

I have tested this personally.

For now, I’m heading back to writing, Fire & Ash preparations, and convincing my knee that stairs are not an elaborate assassination attempt.

Thank you, as always, for reading, grabbing books, sharing posts, leaving reviews, and generally hanging around while I build fictional apocalypses and deal with considerably less fictional disasters in real life.

And if you feel led to buy a girl a coffee… I would be most grateful for the support.

More soon.

—DJ

Have you ever noticed how quickly a good habit can disappear?

People debate whether it takes 21 days, 66 days, or even longer to build a habit, but no matter how long it takes, one thing is certain: consistency creates momentum.

Unfortunately, the opposite is just as true.

I am a bit over six weeks since my knee replacement surgery. Recovery has gone well overall, but it hasn’t been the smooth path I imagined. Pain, limited mobility, and simply trying to heal have kept me spending far more time on the couch than at my desk.

At first, I told myself I’d be back to writing in a few days.

Then a week.

Then another.

Before I realized it, I’d become what I jokingly call a sofa slug.

The daily writing sessions disappeared. My habit I spent time cultivating would be to spend a few hours in the morning with coffee at the table writing new words, but because of the knee, I could no longer sit like that, and because it wasn’t in the right place or time, I just didn’t write. Edits even slowed and pushed out the releases for the new books in the Light Dies Series with Raventhorne Books.

The routine I’d spent years building quietly slipped away. What surprised me wasn’t just how quickly that happened—it was how one broken habit began affecting everything else.

Writing isn’t just something I love. It’s my business. When I’m not writing, editing, or releasing books, income slows. Then life reminds you in the most real way that it has absolutely no interest in your recovery schedule.

Bills still show up, and unexpected expenses still happen, like how my car decided this was the perfect moment to need repairs, creating an expense I simply am not prepared for.

Thankfully, there are bright days ahead.

I’m hoping to release Books Two and Three in the Fallen World Series within the Light Dies World next month, and I couldn’t be more excited to get those stories into your hands.

Then there’s The Age of Fire & Ash.

Some of you have followed bits and pieces of this project over the last couple of years while I was in school. What some may not know is that it all started as the novel I had to write for my Master of Fine Arts thesis. As I built that story, I realized there was far more history behind it than a single book could ever tell. One novel became five backstory books as I explored the world that existed before that first story.

Then something happened, and other authors wanted to tell stories there too, and rather than keeping the world to myself, I opened the gates.

For nearly two years now, The Age of Fire & Ash has been developing its history, expanding its cultures, creating its timeline, and inviting talented authors to tell their own stories within this shared universe. This fall, readers will finally begin seeing all of the The Age of Fire & Ash books finding their way into bookstores.

That sentence still feels surreal to write. What began as a graduate school thesis has become something so much bigger than I ever imagined. Readers won’t simply discover one series—they’ll discover an entire world filled with stories from authors who have taken up the torch and helped build something special. Watching this dream grow beyond my own books has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my writing career.

Now I just have to rebuild the habits that made all of this possible. The beautiful thing about habits is that they work both ways. If they can be broken, they can also be rebuilt.

• It starts with one chapter.

• One editing session.

• One morning spent writing instead of making excuses.

• One day (or step) at a time.

If you’ve ever had to rebuild after an illness, surgery, burnout, or just life getting in the way, then you know exactly what I’m talking about. But I am ready to evict the sofa slug and get back to the desk. [I do want to note that a great friend and mentor, Boyd Craven Jr., offered some advice for me to use a timer, because too long at the desk makes the leg ache and I end up elevating back on the sofa—Got me that timer and taking some very excellent advice]

One thing many readers don’t realize is how publishing income works. If someone buys one of my books today, I won’t actually receive those royalties for about two months. A book purchased at the end of July helps me at the end of September. Books purchased during August don’t arrive until the end of October. It’s one of the strange realities of being an author. The work happens today, but the income follows much later.

That means this has become one of those difficult seasons where exciting things are on the horizon, but the financial reality of recovery is happening right now. So, if you’ve been wondering how you can help while I work my way back, there are a few ways that make a tremendous difference.

Share one of my books with a friend.

Recommend one in a reader group or on social media.

Leave a review if you’ve read one of my books.

And if you’re able and would like to help bridge this gap and help fix the doggone car while I get back on my feet, you can always support me through my Buy Me a Coffee page (who knows, maybe the car will get fixed).

Every book shared, every review written, every recommendation made, and every cup of coffee helps keep this dream moving forward while I climb back into the rhythm that writing has always given me, and I appreciate everyone who has followed me along this journey.

Thank you for sticking with me through this season.

Now it’s time to stop being a sofa slug. I’ve got stories to finish.

If your idea of a good time involves the end of civilization, impossible choices, and characters trying to survive one more day... I’ve got something for you.

Build your Summer Reading pile with the Apocalypse Stuff Your Reader event, which is live, offering a whole collection of free and discounted post-apocalyptic books from a wide range of authors. It’s one of my favorite ways to discover new series and fill my e-reader with stories I’ll probably end up reading far too late into the night.

Just one quick tip: always double-check the price before you click, since retailers can sometimes be slow to update sale pricing.

Happy reading... and if you discover a new favorite author, let me know. I’m always looking for another great apocalypse to add to my own reading pile, and if you enjoyed a book please be kind and leave a review. [Authors love these]!

DJ

Though, for a few days there, I wasn’t entirely convinced.

Last Tuesday I had my knee replacement surgery. The procedure itself went well. The problem came afterward when I developed a complication from the spinal anesthesia that left me completely flat on my back for three days.

And when I say flat, I mean flat.

At first, lying in bed sounds relaxing. By hour six, you’ve watched everything worth watching. By hour twelve, you’re checking the weather even though you can’t go outside. By hour twenty-four, you’re studying the ceiling with the intensity of a detective investigating a murder scene.

By day three, I had named sections of it.

There was Steve, the suspicious water stain. Margaret, the crack that looked vaguely like Florida. And Charles, the shadow in the corner that I became increasingly convinced was judging my life choices.

The irony, of course, is that I’d gone into surgery with grand plans. I was going to recover, catch up on reading, work on edits, answer emails, and maybe even get ahead for once.

Instead, my biggest accomplishment was successfully rotating from one side to the other without requiring a rescue team.

Thankfully, the headache has finally eased, and I’m back among the living.

Now I face my next challenge: physical therapy.

For those who have never experienced it, physical therapy appears to be a process in which highly trained professionals smile encouragingly while introducing you to muscles you didn’t know existed and convincing them to file complaints directly with your brain.

The good news is that progress is happening.

Slowly.

Painfully.

But happening.

While I’ve been away, the projects have continued piling up like survivors gathering outside a bunker.

Over the next few days, I’ll be posting the remainder of Book One in the Fire & Ash universe over on Patreon and loading more chapters here on Substack. If you’ve been following along, you’ll finally be able to read the rest of the story.

I’m also working through edits on Smoke & Ash, the second book in the Light Dies series. The world may be collapsing inside the pages, but at least those characters can walk without a walker.

For now, my goals are simple:

1. Learn to walk like a normal human again.

2. Survive physical therapy.

3. Return to writing before my email inbox becomes self-aware.

Thank you to everyone who checked in while I was temporarily out of service. The messages, comments, and encouragement meant a lot.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a new knee, a stack of edits, and an appointment with a physical therapist who seems entirely too enthusiastic about stairs.

In the meantime, y’all might like to look over some of my other titles and I’d appreciate the support <3 https://www.amazon.com/stores/DJ-Cooper/author/B01182KS32

See you Soon!

DJ

Cheyenne Mountain Complex

Jane St. Pierre, Secretary of State, cleared her throat and stepped forward to get everyone’s attention with a simple introduction.

“The President of the United States,” she shouted. The starkness of the walls and cavernous feel of the space made her words bounce around the room and echo into her own ears.

She quickly stepped back and fell into line with the others behind him. The room fell silent as the man stepped up and stood in front of the podium. He glanced at his notes on small cards in his hands and then looked around the room at the screens and people who’d paused what they were doing to hear him. Jane felt a knot forming in the pit of her stomach. Deep down, she knew this was not going to be good news.

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Two days before—Raven Rock Mountain Complex

Senator Vivien Tang rode a golf cart through the underground installation’s tunnels with a military escort, noting the hard lines juxtaposing the ornate capital building they’d spent so much time in.

The echoes of activity reverberated off the cold gray cement walls and rolled through the cavernous yet confining bunker, giving her a feeling of smallness in the vast space. Even though it was quiet, the hum of the battery-powered golf cart added to the cacophony of sounds assaulting her senses as they navigated the cart around the busy workers, who endlessly loaded and unloaded supplies. The sense of urgency was heightened by the unusual activity in the normally vacant space.

A young man stumbled and dropped the box he was carrying, its contents spilling out in front of them. The cart jerked to a stop, and the angry MP climbed out from behind the wheel, yelling at the worker to hurry up and pick it up.

“Sergeant, please. It’s fine. I know we’re all a little freaked out, but remember this is all just precautionary. Help him, won’t you?” Vivien said in a soothing voice.

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While working on Concrete & Ruin, I found myself returning to the same question over and over again.

The question should read...

How far would a good person go to protect the people they love?

Most of us believe we know where our line is. We have principles and rules. We have things we tell ourselves we would never do. Those beliefs are easy to hold when the grocery store shelves are full, the lights come on when we flip a switch, and help is only a phone call away.

The challenge comes when those comforts disappear. What happens when your children are hungry? When there isn’t enough medicine or when protecting your family means making a decision you never imagined you’d have to make?

Those questions followed me through every chapter of Concrete & Ruin. Because those are questions I wanted the characters to answer. The internal struggles they face living in a Fallen World.

Ben Carter isn’t trying to save the world. He’s trying to save his children. All while society unravels after a devastating CME, he discovers that survival isn’t a series of grand heroic moments. It’s a collection of impossible choices, each one a little harder than the last. Where is the line between humanity & insanity?

Interestingly, those same questions are part of why I’ve become so passionate about the Thrive Self-Reliance Summit. The event is built around preparedness, outdoor skills, sustainability, and homesteading—not because we expect the world to end tomorrow, but because capability creates options. The more skills we have, the more choices we have when life becomes difficult.

I’d like to believe that if everything fell apart, I’d make the right decisions. I’d also like to believe I wouldn’t spend the first week of the apocalypse mourning the loss of ice cream and complaining about how nobody warned me that surviving civilization’s collapse would involve drinking warm soda. I’m not entirely convinced either belief would survive first contact with reality.

So now I’m curious.

How far would you go to protect the people you love?

Is there a line you believe you would never cross? Or do circumstances change the rules?

I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

And if you’ve already read Concrete & Ruin, I’d be incredibly grateful if you’d leave a review. Reviews help readers discover books far more than any advertisement ever will, and they make a tremendous difference during a launch.

Next week, the doctors will be replacing it. Y’all ever read what they do??? Well maybe next week...

The good news is that modern medicine is amazing. The bad news is that there is currently no option to upgrade the rest of me while they’re at it.

I asked.

They said no.

So, while I prepare to become at least partially bionic, I figured this would be a good time to share some exciting news or at least give you something to question.

Because apparently I deal with major life events the same way I deal with everything else...

By writing another book, except this one and two others are already waiting for the edits (my least favorite part of writing) while I conjure up some new catastrophe to share.

Cover Reveal: For the Second Book in the Fallen World Series

SMOKE & ASH

After the events of Book 1, the story continues with higher stakes, bigger dangers, and considerably fewer good decisions.

As always, no spoilers. But if you thought things were rough in the first book, you haven’t seen anything yet. —More on that soon!

If you haven’t started the series yet book one is #freeinKU

What Happens Next?

Over the next few weeks, I’ll be recovering, doing physical therapy, and learning how many creative curse words can be invented while walking up a flight of stairs.

I’ll also be writing because I got something big cooking. But also because, let’s be honest, nobody ever accused me of slowing down. If all goes according to plan, I’ll emerge from recovery with a stronger knee, several new story ideas, and at least one manuscript that wasn’t part of the original schedule.

Y’all know that Fire & Ash is well underway and releasing chapters ahead on Patreon. Book One—Dawn of Destruction is coming to a close in the next few chapters, and Book Two will begin dropping chapters immediately. I want to say how grateful I am to those reading and giving feedback on it and helping the long-time-coming story take shape. I’m also working with other authors to bring their stories into this world, and you’re gonna love it!

While I’m busy convincing my new knee that we’re friends, here are a few great books from fellow authors that deserve a spot on your reading list.

Books Worth Checking Out From Authors In

Written Apocalypse

FROM STEVEN HEUZINKVELD

Survivors of The Fall is a heart-pounding survival thriller, opening with a young woman’s family learning that the apocalypse is just about to begin, and their mad scramble to safety
It’s available on Amazon KU, ebook and paperback - here’s the link for the full blurb:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BQZ6CK58/

FROM MIKE EVANS

Zombies Ate the Neighbors

Mike, along with the rest of Ankeny, only wanted a snow day...unfortunately for them, they got more from the frigid Iowa skies than flurries. Drugged prisoners are dropped in against their will. As if that wasn’t enough, each one of the prisoners contains a ticking time bomb. When the buzzers go off the drugged prisoners disappear and rage-filled zombies emerge, ready to tear apart the world. Now it is up to the survivors to keep each other safe and survive what is hopefully the only wave of souls dropped in their town…

https://www.amazon.com/Zombies-Ate-Neighbors-Books-VolIV-ebook/dp/B0GGZ7774R

FROM FELISA ORDEP

The virus is spreading.
The country is in freefall.
And she’s trapped miles from home...

When aspiring tech entrepreneur Zeyla Jerkins is left stranded in Manila after the sudden outbreak of a deadly virus, she’s horrified to watch society begin to crumble around her.

As critical services fail and panic erupts into full-blown anarchy, her luxurious five-star hotel transforms into a makeshift prison.

They have no power, no water, no internet - and...

no way out.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GFXTC7D7

FROM SCOTT BAKER

Could there be anything worse than a zombie apocalypse?
What about an outbreak involving zombie rats?
Five years ago, the Zombie Virus spread across the globe, nearly causing mankind’s extinction. After four years of battling the living dead, America declared victory, having cleansed them from the countryside or containing them in large cities. Life slowly returned to a new normal.
Until…
In Boston, the virus species jumped from the carcasses of the living dead to the rats feeding off their remains, rapidly creating a pack of over a hundred thousand zombie rodents. These zombies were small, fast, and deadly, capable of stripping the flesh and organs off their victims in ten seconds. When there was not enough rotted flesh left inside the containment zone, the dead rodent army followed their instincts and rained down a new plague on mankind.
If the living dead were a nightmare come to life, zombie rats are the darkest images burrowed deep inside its recesses.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GXCKTS9G

Writers aren’t people exactly. Or, if they’re any good, they’re a whole lot of people trying so hard to be one person. ~F. Scott Fitzgerald

Thank you for reading, supporting my books, and following along on this strange adventure.

If everything goes well, next month’s newsletter will be written by a slightly upgraded version of me.

If not, you’ll probably find me trying to negotiate with a stubborn physical therapist while plotting the end of them... ahem, I mean civilization in my next novel.

Some things never change.

Until next time,

DJ Cooper

Author of the Apocalypse

Capital Building Washington, D.C.

Voices filled with anxiety echoed through the vast and empty halls, reverberating off the high ceilings and intricate molding. The heated discussion echoed, rolling like a wave through the unsettling emptiness of the capitol building, now turned ghost town.

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving without her.” The woman’s voice, filled with panic, shrieked. Her words, like restless spirits haunting the abandoned grandeur, were tense and filled with anxiety. “Try her cell phone again.”

The sharp, rhythmic clacking of the woman’s heels echoed through the empty hallway, filling the space with a sense of urgency and purpose; her pace quickening as she fast walked toward the entrance. The quick shuffling sound of another set of steps accompanied hers.

“Ma’am,” a young male voice urged. “She answered.”

The woman’s voice was stern. “Natriel, where have you been?” A pause followed, and she shouted in reply. “What? What do you mean? There is a car for you at home. They’ll bring you to me.” Another pause. “NOW, Natriel. You know I can’t say. I expect to see you here in twenty minutes.” Silence followed as the woman stopped walking. Her tone shifted. “I know, honey, but we can’t. I love you. See you soon.”

Simon remained stern and professional as he stood in his dark suit awaiting her. The clicking down the marbled floors, purposeful and determined, grew closer until she rounded the corner, coming face to face with Simon. He’d been the security detail who always walked her out, assigned to her on her first term.

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Three Days Earlier—US Congress

The wind was a cold and bitter embrace, sweeping across the Capitol grounds with a hint of the brewing nor’easter rolling up offshore. The sky above the Capitol swiftly changed to a dull gray, clouds portentously hanging over the ocean just offshore.

Senator Gretchen Helvig pulled her wool coat tighter as she climbed the steps. The remnants of the fall leaves that still clung to the skeletal branches spun and writhed while being whipped by the wind. They fell and littered the ground, skittering past her feet.

The wind howled and whipped against the Capitol, creating a symphony of those rustling leaves and creaking branches. But despite the bitter chill and the ominous forecast, it was Jack Connelly’s haunting voice on the phone that morning that sent a shiver down her spine and stayed with her every step of the way.

She pulled out her phone, dialing Vivien’s number.

“Did Connelly call you, too?” Senator Vivien Tang answered without preamble.

“Yes. You’re coming?”

“Already on my way. Gretchen…” Vivien paused. “He’s never sounded like that before.”

“I know.” Gretchen watched dark-suited security personnel clearing the public galleries. “Something’s very wrong. See you inside.”

When she arrived, the chamber was already filled with the sound of murmured conversations and the shuffling of papers.

The usual clusters of chatting lawmakers were absent, replaced by tense faces and whispered conversations. She spotted Vivien near the back and made her way over.

“Armed security at every exit,” Vivien murmured as Gretchen sat. “And look who’s here. Isn’t that Powell from Defense Intelligence and Marshall from CIA…”

Secretary Bradley stood at the podium, his face drawn and serious. His brow was furrowed and his mouth set in a stern line that generally meant bad news.

Before he could speak, Senator Moore, a short woman with fiery red hair, rose with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face that reflected the impatience and frustration most of them felt.

“Mr. Secretary, some of us would like to know why we were dragged here at dawn with no explanation.”

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Madison Square Garden—

Sarah couldn’t hear herself think over the deafening roar of the crowd at Madison Square Garden. The sea of people, all clad in Ranger blue, waving their arms and screaming in excitement. A mixture of popcorn, hotdogs, and the sharp tang of spilled beer lingered in the stands.

The stadium lights glinted off the ice rink, illuminating the players as they skated back and forth, exciting the crowd into a symphony of enthusiasm and anticipation.

All she could focus on was the Rangers as they dominated the game. They were up by two in the third, and the energy was electric.

She high-fived Mike, his howls mimicking a victorious battle cry carried upon the waves of the crowd’s deafening roars. Like some Viking claiming his bounty, he grabbed her around the shoulders and pulled her in. “I told you these seats were worth it!” he shouted over the noise.

A wide grin emerged as he sought her approval. He’d been trying to impress her all evening, and she had to admit it was working.

Only fifteen rows up from the ice, they could see every expression on the players’ faces, every spray of ice from the players’ skates when they shifted their bodies sideways to skid in a sudden stop. The Rangers flew across the ice, swift and powerful and set up for another run on the goal. Excitement built, and Sarah’s throat burned from screaming with the crowd, a sea of ecstatic faces, their arms waving, carrying her along with it.

Her hands stung from clapping, but she was too excited to care. Spilled beer, gum and snacks made the floor sticky under her boots and sweat from the heat of the packed arena beaded on her forehead despite the ice below.

It was a chaotic and glorious scene, a whirlwind of energy and passion that made Sarah feel alive and fully present in the moment. The euphoria of the game and the electric atmosphere of the arena swirled around her in a dizzying display of sheer adrenaline fueled frenzy.

Mike’s eyes were bright and focused, completely engrossed in the game. Like a kid, Mike cheered for his team.

“Watch this, watch this!” He grabbed her arm, pointing as their center drove toward the goal. His touch was electric, warm through her jersey sleeve, sending a jolt of excitement through her body. When he leaned in closer, she caught a whiff of his cologne, a mix of musk and spice blended perfectly with the scent of him. Her heart raced with the intensity of a thousand horses as he looked at her. She liked him more each day. As she gazed at him with adoration, she couldn’t help but dream of a future together, full of these exhilarating moments and the warmth of his touch.

The puck moved at lightning speed, hurtling through the air and slamming into the net, hitting the pole at the back with a loud clank. Like a thunderclap that shattered the air, jolting her back to reality, the crowd erupted in a crescendo of wild energy.

Sarah was on her feet with everyone else when the first siren ripped through the cheers, creating a cacophony of sound and sensation. Sarah’s ears rang with the roar of twenty thousand voices becoming one. Despite the cold drink dripping down her neck from the big guy slinging his cup around like a victory flag, Sarah was caught up in the electric moment and didn’t care. Mike pulled her into a hug, and she tasted the salt of sweat on her lips when he kissed her. She laughed, flinging her head back as he spun her around.

But the noise didn’t stop, and Sarah’s fists clenched as she searched the sea of people for the source of it. The siren blared, its shrill tone sharp and piercing, like a blade slicing through the ecstatic roar of the crowd into the depths of a sudden feeling of dread. It shattered the moment, leaving only a ringing in Sarah’s ears and a primal fear clawing at her senses.

As she looked for the source, she could see a mix of reactions in the faces that turned toward the sound, searching. Some looked concerned, others annoyed, while most kept celebrating with raised arms and wide grins.

New York lived with sirens. Sarah had stopped noticing them years ago. But this one… this one pierced something primitive in her brain. The wailing siren rose and fell, an unsettling undertone to the pulsing energy of the crowd.

The first siren was quickly joined by another, their ear-piercing wails filling the arena reminiscent of a thousand anguished souls crying out in unison. A tumultuous duet, one siren echoing the other in an eerie chorus that quickly drowned out the cheers and clatter of the crowds as their roar faltered.

The vibe changed, shifting direction on a dime. The cheers and celebration suddenly replaced by fear and panic. A momentary silence filled the air and the siren’s wail repeated. Expressions changed as, one by one, they began to recognize the sound. The players on the ice slowed, and the screech of the referee’s whistle became lost in the chaos quickly emerging when confusion overtook them.

An announcement crackled over the arena’s speakers: “Ladies and gentlemen, please proceed calmly to the nearest exit—”

From the corner of her eye, she saw a hand reach out motioning to them urgently toward the aisle. They were near the end of a row and the long set of stairs leading to the top. A sea of bodies emerged onto them like a tidal wave. A chaotic tangle of limbs and voices, urging and pulling, like a nest of snakes writhing towards the stairs.

“What the fuck is that?” someone behind Sarah asked. The words carried in the quiet murmurs of confusion.

The arena’s speakers crackled to life and a voice, more urgent this time, said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I say again, please proceed calmly to the nearest exit. This is not a drill. Repeat: this is not—”

Static swallowed the rest.

For one heartbeat, the crowd froze, their eyes wide with confusion and fear. The chaos and commotion around them seemed to slow down, and for a moment, it was as if time had stopped.

The sounds of terror ripped through the air, shattering the brief moment of stillness and sending it crashing into a frenzy of chaos and fear. A wave of panic consumed the crowd and drowned out all other sounds, including the urgent announcement blaring from the speakers.

The crowd surged, pushing her; surrounding and moving ahead, taking her with it like a flood. Sarah’s feet left the ground as bodies pressed against her from all sides, a maelstrom of panic and desperation. A chaotic tangle of limbs and voices besieged her from all sides and she cringed with the hot, moist breath of strangers on her neck. The sharp edges of objects jabbed at her body, and Mike’s fingers locked around her wrist, holding on to her felt like her only lifeline.

“Move!” he shouted. “We have to move!”

They pushed forward with the crowd that swarmed like a colony of ants, each individual body melding into the mass as they pressed forward in unison. The temperature around her rose with each passing second, the air thick with the heat of thousands of bodies squeezed together. Sarah’s jersey clung to her skin, drenched in sweat from the press of people. In the frenzy, someone’s watch caught in her hair, yanking her head back before the links gave way under the force of the crowd.

They made it about ten feet before the real chaos started. Someone screamed. This was not an excited sports kind of scream, but something guttural, terrified. The push of bodies surged again. Sarah felt herself being swept along, her grip on Mike’s hand slipping away like sand through her fingers.

A child wailed somewhere to her left. “Mommy! MOMMMMY!”

“Emma! Where are you?” A woman’s voice screeched over the deafening roar, desperate and raw.

Sarah strained to turn toward the sound, but the crowd carried her forward like a mere leaf in a raging river. The crush of bodies forced them up the stairs and she felt powerless to halt their progression.

“Mike!” The noise of panic swallowed her voice.

A man in a Rangers jersey shoved past her, his elbow catching her ribs and knocking her off balance. Pain shot through her side. She stumbled, her hip hitting the edge of a seat. Someone stepped on her foot. Another elbow caught her shoulder. It was like an assault from all sides, stuck in the midst of a violent storm, being battered where she stood gripping the back of a seat.

Ten feet ahead, a fight erupted. “You pushed my kid!” A heavy-set man had another by the throat, slamming him against the seats. “You fucking pushed my kid!”

Blood sprayed as fists connected with flesh. The crowd writhed around the violence like a living thing, everyone trying to get away and going nowhere. The sheer volume of noise and cries for help overwhelmed her senses. And those damn sirens kept wailing in the background. The crowd continued its crawl forward, parting around the fighting men like water, everyone focused only on escape. She felt lost as fear immobilized her, leaving her clinging to the seat like a lifeline.

Sarah’s foot slid on the slick surface of spilled beer. Her knee hit the concrete floor, sending a jolt of pain through her body. The impact of the boot against her side felt like a heavy weight crushing her ribs and driving the air from her lungs. Her mouth gaped as the taste of copper overwhelmed her. More feet pressed close, some trying to avoid her, others not caring. A woman’s stiletto heel caught her thigh, tearing through her jeans. Above her, the mass of legs and feet seemed endless as she was battered by the swirling currents of panic and violence.

A designer purse hit the ground next to her face. Calvin Klein leather, probably three hundred dollars. Its contents tumbling out in a curious display of what mattered to people. Lipstick rolled under the seats, car keys slid across concrete. A hand darted down, snatched the wallet, disappeared into the forest of legs. The purse’s owner never even looked back.

Fingers dug into Sarah’s shoulder as someone used her for balance, pushing themselves forward and forcing her back down. Her eyes watered from the pain. The hard cement floor vibrated with thousands of running feet and the air grew thicker with fear-sweat and desperation.

“Help!” She tried to push herself up, but bodies pressed too close. “Please!”

A boot came down on her hand. Bones ground together. She screamed, yanking her arm back, curling into herself and trying to cram her body under the seat she saw as her only lifeline while feet continued to flash past her face. The concrete scraped her cheek raw in the grinding of her face as mindless panic threatened to end her.

Somewhere close, glass shattered. A man’s voice: “Fuck you! I’m getting out!”

More sounds of fighting. A woman sobbing. Fabric tearing. The crack of another window breaking.

The lights went out.

The darkness hit like a physical thing. The crowd’s panic found a new gear. Sarah felt debris raining down on her, though she dared not even look up. Phones, bags, jewelry torn away by unseen hands. The sirens wailed. The temperature kept rising while her hopes fell.

Green emergency lights sputtered to life, casting everything in a sickly glow while shadows twisted across frightened faces. Sarah saw a man yanking a gold chain from a woman’s neck, another person trampling a fallen child to reach the exit.

Strong hands grabbed her arms. She fought, kicking out, but then Mike’s voice cut through her panic.

“I got you!” Blood ran from his nose, matting in his beard. A cut above his eye had already begun to swell. “Come on!”

He hauled her up.

Pain shot through her ribs, her crushed hand. They pushed toward what looked like an exit, but the crowd had congealed into an immobile mass. Three rows ahead, someone had fallen. People climbed over the trapped person, stepping on their back, their head. Sarah just stared in horror, thinking about how only moments ago that was her.

Her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She pulled it out without thinking, the screen’s light shining harshly in the dim arena. It was a text from her mother.

It simply said I love you.

The words made no sense. Time seemed to slow. Why would her mom…?

The man was a blur of motion, his face twisted in anger as he shoved her aside. In slow motion, her phone slipped from her hand and crashed to the ground, the screen cracking and shards of glass flying in all directions.

Before she could retrieve it, light bloomed through the high windows. Not emergency lights. Not lightning. Something else. Something wrong.

The brightness intensified impossibly, painfully white, burning away all shadows.

Mike turned toward it. Sarah watched his face change, shifting between confusion, realization, terror. The light consumed everything.

And then there was nothing.

A few days ago, I wrote a rather lengthy explanation detailing where I’ve been, what I’ve been working on, and why I’ve seemingly vanished into the wilderness armed only with a laptop, caffeine, and a series of increasingly questionable life choices.

The short version was simple:

I’ve been writing.

A lot.

Since I’ve already spent several thousand words explaining myself, I figured it was time to put my efforts where my mouth is and actually show you what all that work has produced.

Today, I’m excited to announce that Concrete & Ruin, the first book in the new Fallen World Series, is officially available.

I’ve been sitting on this one for a while. Not because it wasn’t ready, but because I wanted to build something bigger than a single release. What started as one book quickly became two. Then three. Then four. Somewhere along the way I lost control of the project entirely, and it evolved into something much larger than I originally intended.

You know... like most of my fictional worlds.

Set within the As the Light Dies universe, Concrete & Ruin follows survivors trying to navigate the aftermath of a devastating CME that strips away everything people take for granted. Electricity. Security. Stability. The comforting illusion that somebody else is going to show up and solve the problem.

Turns out nobody is coming.

Which makes for great fiction, if somewhat concerning life advice.

What I love most about this story isn’t the disaster itself. It’s what comes after. It’s watching ordinary people discover what they’re willing to do when survival stops being a theory and becomes a daily reality. It’s about family, faith, sacrifice, and the uncomfortable realization that sometimes doing the right thing and keeping the people you love alive aren’t necessarily the same thing.

In other words, it’s exactly the sort of cheerful, uplifting material you’ve come to expect from me.

The response so far has been fantastic, and seeing readers finally getting their hands on this story after spending so much time living inside it has been incredibly rewarding.

What makes this release even more exciting, though, is knowing what’s waiting right behind it.

Unlike many of my previous projects where readers had to patiently wait while I disappeared into the writing cave to produce the next installment, this time I managed to get a little ahead of myself.

And by “a little,” I mean three additional books.

That’s right. While I’ve been suspiciously absent from social media and generally behaving like a cave-dwelling cryptid, I’ve been building this series.

Books 2 & 3 are complete and moving through the edits with book 4 hot on their heels. But somewhere around book three, I realized I wasn’t simply writing a series anymore.

I was building another world.

The scary part is that even after four books, I can already see where the story goes next. New characters keep appearing and demanding attention. Entire corners of the world keep opening up every time I think I’ve reached the edge of the map.

So if you’re wondering whether Fallen World ends with these four books, the answer is simple:

No.

Not even close.

The survivors still have a long road ahead of them. And unfortunately for them, I have plenty of terrible things planned.

Of course, while all of this has been happening, I haven’t forgotten about Fire & Ash.

In fact, new chapters of Year of Ruin continue to drop on Patreon but will begin here on Substack for subscribers and move along very quickly. I’ve been having an absolute blast returning to that world.

One of the things I’ve always loved about Fire & Ash is how large it feels. Every settlement has a history and its secrets. Every road seems to lead to another story waiting to be told. Year of Ruin has allowed me to explore another corner of that wasteland, and I’ve loved watching readers speculate about what’s coming next. But this one?!?! In the second year we hear from our young adults and find some Dystopian vibes…and it continues long into the future with a book fully written and edited at year 83.

The funny thing about writing is that readers often think I know where every story is headed.

Sometimes I do.

Other times the characters decide they’d rather ignore my plans entirely and charge directly toward chaos and given my track record, you can probably guess which version happens most often.

Of course, apparently writing apocalyptic universes and new series launch wasn’t enough to keep me occupied. Which brings me to Ward 7.

Now before anyone starts checking my temperature, no—I haven’t abandoned the apocalypse. The wasteland still has my heart. But every now and then a story comes along that refuses to stay quiet, and Ward 7 has been doing exactly that.

What’s interesting about it is that it takes me into darker territory than readers are used to seeing from me. A different kind of dark. The kind where you start questioning what is real, who can be trusted, and whether the thing behind the locked door is actually the thing you should be afraid of. [Probably been binging too much Criminal Minds is what it is]

My apocalypse novels ask what happens when the world falls apart. Ward 7 asks what happens when reality itself starts to feel unreliable.

And honestly? That’s a pretty terrifying question.

I won’t say too much yet, but I will leave you with this: When Lily is transferred to Ward 7, she hopes it will be her final stop before freedom. Instead, she finds herself trapped in a place where the staff seem to be hiding something, the patients are afraid to talk, and every answer raises a more disturbing question.

More on that one soon to be releasing in the next week or so.

For now, thank you.

Whether you’ve been reading my books for years, joined me through Fire & Ash, found your way here through preparedness and self-reliance, or simply enjoy watching fictional people endure catastrophically bad days, I’m grateful you’re here.

Your support allows me to keep building worlds, telling stories, and occasionally disappearing into the writing cave long enough to emerge carrying several completed manuscripts and a caffeine dependency that should probably concern someone.

The world may have ended.

But the stories are just getting started.

— DJ Cooper

Author of the Apocalypse

I do have a couple of extras for you to check out between books!!! Just give the image a click to see what’s behind each one (plus it says I’m doing my job and sharing if you check em out).

With free access you get to see thoughts and posts about what is going on but if you Join a paid tier you would have access to chapter-by-chapter releases for the first four books in the Year of Ruin series. The origins of The Age of Fire & Ash World is a rich and multi-generational story of survival. You’re getting in on the ground floor with rapid releasing of chapters and bonus content.

What You’re Getting

This collection follows multiple communities as they navigate the aftermath of nuclear war—each choosing a radically different path to survival. You’ll witness:

• Democracy’s struggle to survive in Cheyenne Mountain under President Jane St. Pierre

• Totalitarian control evolving in Raven Rock as Senator Vivien Tang makes impossible choices

• Found family and mutual aid in Kentucky, where ordinary people build something new from the ruins

The series explores hard questions: Can democracy survive catastrophe? What happens when survival requires surrendering our humanity? And in a world of ash and radiation, what does it mean to truly rebuild?

Book 1 - Dawn of Destruction sets the stage as the bombs fall and these three societies emerge. Books 2-4 will follow their evolution, conflicts, and the ultimate reckoning between these competing visions of humanity’s future.

Book 2 - Shadows of Ruin

Book 3 - Echoes of Ash

Book 4 - Rise of the Survivors

New chapters release regularly, so check back often. Welcome to the wasteland.

—DJ Cooper

Those early academic explorations became the first sparks of what would later evolve into The Age of Fire & Ash. At the time, I wasn’t intentionally building a fictional universe. I was stress-testing ideas. Pulling threads. Asking “what if” in places most people would rather not look.

What emerged was a realization that still shapes my writing today: the end of the world is rarely one event. It’s coordination failures. Overlapping crises. Human decisions colliding with natural forces that don’t care about politics, borders, or intentions.

The Age of Fire & Ash isn’t just about nuclear exchange (because we all know a full-on exchange is one of those disasters we can’t even fathom). It’s about what comes in the wake of the realities of it all—governmental coverups, delayed responses, infrastructure collapse, and the ripple effects of disasters stacking on top of one another. I deliberately explored scenarios that don’t get enough attention, including what might happen if Yellowstone were triggered during an already fragile global moment. What would a limited eruption mean and how would our characters deal with such an event?

As a writer of apocalyptic fiction, I’ve always believed that a single, planet-ending catastrophe might actually be too unsurvivable in narrative terms. But have recently seen just such a book from my friend Joe Nirmaier that sang a different tune when it comes to readers and fictional disasters. But it doesn’t negate the realities of how hopeless it can feel.

And as someone who has been immersed in preparedness for a long time, I know this to be true outside of fiction as well. Survival isn’t always about the event itself. It’s about what fails next. It’s about supply chains, communication breakdowns, and the psychological toll of prolonged uncertainty. All of this, and the biggest what if factor? The human factor! In many cases, staying alive is harder than people imagine.

ENG 330--The Fire Below (the actual paper)

Kilauea, a volcano in the Hawaiian Islands, has grumbled and churned. Reminding the world of the volcanic nature of the planet we live on. Day and night, it seeps lava from an ongoing volcanic eruption. We can observe a scene that is one of gently flowing lava. But, what if it were not so gentle? What if it was explosive, like Mount Saint Helens? What if the eruption were a hundred times greater? The questions create a moment of pause in our thoughts about volcanoes. When we consider the destructive power of volcanoes and recall events such as the eruption of Mount St. Helens in 1980, the potential devastation of one so massive seems unreal. This is what the Yellowstone super volcano would be like. Exploring what the effects of such an event would be on the United States and even the world promises to be a journey that would offer nightmares. When Tambora blew in 1815 it kicked off the year without a summer(Tambora), due to the ash lingering in the atmosphere and blocking the rays of the sun. Impact of this event was catastrophic and felt worldwide, giving pause to wonder how an eruption on the scale of super volcanoes in the past played out from archeological records; and how it would affect us today.

According to archeological records, the Yellowstone super volcano has erupted in the past. More than once in fact, and it is not the only one on earth. Yellowstone is quite possibly one of the most potentially devastating volcanoes on earth and we know this because of what archeologists have discovered about its rather incredible past. Taking pause to look at this sleeping giant and its prior activity, some scientists contend that we are 40,000 years overdue for the next big eruption, while others disagree. Looking back at the history of this fiery giant, the plain truth is that it has and can happen again. There are a number of major eruptions that archeologists have documented. While there are many eruptions to date, what is concerning is the ones that make this a super volcano. There are three that are documented in recent history, 2.1 million years ago, 1.3 million years ago ( ), and 640,000 years ago; but the track of this hot spot is actually moving in a northeastern path that can be seen as far back as 16.5 million years ago.( )

Why should anyone care about a volcano whose history is so old? Consider this: when Mount St. Helens erupted in 1980, the area affected was 229 square miles. “It was the deadliest and most economically destructive volcanic event in the history of the United States” (NOAA). Yellowstone’s past eruptions were thousands of times more powerful than Mount St. Helens.

Works Cited

• “Mount Tambora and the Year Without a Summer.” The Water Cycle | UCAR Center for Science Education, scied.ucar.edu/shortcontent/mount-tambora-and-year-without-summer.

• National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration [NOAA]. Mount St. Helens, Washington USA, ngdc.noaa.gov/hazard/stratoguide/helenfact.html

Why Fiction Matters to Preparedness

This is where fiction becomes more than entertainment.

Apocalyptic fiction allows us to safely explore worst-case scenarios without living through them. It gives us a sandbox to test assumptions, expose blind spots, and ask questions we might never think to ask otherwise. What happens when the grid doesn’t come back? When aid is delayed indefinitely? When the plan you had only works for the first three weeks?

Preparedness isn’t about paranoia—it’s about awareness. And stories help build that awareness by walking us through consequences step by step. They force us to think about logistics, psychology, and moral choice under pressure.

The Age of Fire & Ash exists at the intersection of fiction and preparedness. It’s not a prediction. It’s a conversation starter. A way to explore how layered disasters might unfold—and how ordinary people might adapt when the world stops behaving the way they expect.

Because the real lesson isn’t whether Yellowstone erupts or a system fails.

It’s this: resilience isn’t built after the fire. It’s built in how—and whether—we prepare before the ash ever falls.

DJ

Https://authoroftheapocalypse.com

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A word from its creator DJ Cooper about How It All Started…

The Moment When Academic Requirement Met Creative Chaos.

Picture this: I’m working on my Master of Fine Arts in creative writing, and I need to write a book. Just a book. Simple, right?

Wrong.

See, I already had a respectable collection of post-apocalyptic novels gathering dust on my shelves, silently judging me. “You call yourself a writer?” they seemed to whisper. “Step up your game, Cooper.” So naturally, I decided to create something akin to Mad Max and Game of Thrones have a literary baby. (Yes, I know that’s a weird mental image. You’re welcome.)

The Birth of an Epic (Warning: Contains Nostalgic Rambling)

It all started when I was deep in Game of Thrones territory, completely mesmerized by George R.R. Martin’s ability to weave epic fantasy adventure. I thought, “What if we took this sprawling, character-rich storytelling and dropped it into a wasteland where gasoline is currency and hope is a luxury?”

Then my mind wandered back to 1977—to that magical moment when young Luke Skywalker stepped onto our screens (be still my heart… Yes I saw it in theaters). There he was on Tatooine, looking perfectly heroic despite his questionable haircut, with this massive backstory we knew nothing about. The mystery! The potential! The drama hiding just beneath that desert planet surface!

That’s when it hit me: The Waste (my thesis book’s working title) needed that same rich foundation. These characters deserved origin stories that would make their eventual convergence feel inevitable, meaningful, and absolutely explosive.

What Started as One Book… (Oops)

So I dove into my imagination to create some backstory. Just a little backstory. You know, enough to make the characters feel real.

Four books later…

Apparently, I don’t know the meaning of “just a little.” What began as background research has evolved into a full-blown literary universe. We’re talking:

• Four origin books ready to launch

• A young adult survival story for one of our key characters (because teenagers surviving the apocalypse is both heartbreaking and inspiring)

• A young adult dystopian series that sets the stage for bigger things to come

• Even a coming of age romance for a few of our other characters that make big impacts in the future.

• Fifteen-plus books planned before we even reach the timeline of The Waste

Then here comes Mercy Ryan with a chilling tale that made even me cringe, filled with not just survival but deep romance and tragedy that set the stage for a much wider potential.

I may have gotten a tiny bit carried away. But in my defense, when you’re building a world from the ashes, you want to make sure those ashes have stories to tell.

Your Invitation to the Wasteland

So here’s your boarding pass to a universe where survival is an art form, hope is rebellion, and every character has earned their scars. We’re exploring different worlds emerging from the ashes of civilization—some brutal, some beautiful, all unforgettable.

Whether you’re here for the epic adventures, the complex characters, or just to see how many ways I can describe a post-apocalyptic sunset (spoiler alert: it’s a lot), welcome to the Fire & Ash universe.

Buckle up. It’s going to be one hell of a ride.

Ready to dive in? Start with Year One and discover how it all begins to fall apart… and how some people refuse to let it stay that way.