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Cannibal Holocaust in the USA
By Thomas Miller
Chapter 1: The End of Civilization
The collapse came suddenly, like a predator in the night. There had been whispers of economic downturns, food shortages, and civil unrest, but no one truly believed it would come to this. When the government fell, when the last stockpile of food was raided, when the final gallon of gasoline burned away, humanity turned against itself.
The cities were the first to fall. Without food deliveries, the people resorted to scavenging, then hunting, and finally... feeding. First, it was the pets. Then, it was the weak. The ones who could not fight back. The elderly. The sick. The vegans, ironically the first to go—thin, clean bodies, easy to overpower. Their screams were muffled beneath the hunger of the desperate.
Chapter 2: The Law of Flesh
The suburbs did not hold out much longer. Once neighborhoods had been thriving with laughter and the scent of backyard barbecues; now, the only smell in the air was charred human meat. Fathers, who once protected their families, became hunters of their own. They started with strangers, then moved to their friends, and then, when the supply ran out, their own children.
Mothers, those nurturing figures who once rocked their infants to sleep, were the worst of all. Starving beyond rational thought, they turned to their own flesh and blood, justifying it as an act of survival. To them, there was no morality, no God left to judge them. Only the gnawing emptiness in their stomachs and the soft, tender flesh of their offspring.
Chapter 3: Packs of the New World
The strongest were the ones who embraced the madness. They formed hunting packs, roaming the highways in gutted-out SUVs, weapons fashioned from rusted steel and broken glass. They tracked the smell of roasting meat, knowing that if they found fire, they found food.
They did not kill swiftly. No, that would be wasteful. They kept their victims alive as long as possible, slicing only what they needed, cauterizing the wounds so the meat stayed fresh. Eyes wide with terror, the captives could do nothing but watch as their bodies were harvested piece by piece.
The remnants of the military, those who had survived the initial collapse, attempted to establish safe zones. But there were no safe zones, not anymore. The refugees who stumbled into their outposts weren’t looking for shelter; they were looking for their next meal.
Chapter 4: The Betrayal of Humanity
People clung to the past, hoping that some form of government, some semblance of order, would rise from the ashes. But hope was just another word for weakness. Hope got you killed.
A man named Jeb Dawson, once an accountant in Colorado, now led a tribe of flesh-eaters through the remains of Denver. He had once been a man of ethics, of discipline. Now, he ruled through blood. He kept trophies of those he had eaten—teeth strung around his neck, dried tongues tucked into his belt. To him, this was not a fall. This was evolution.
He had seen families turn on each other, seen daughters slit their mother’s throats, seen fathers roast their sons over open flames. The taste of human flesh was no longer taboo. It was currency. It was survival.
Chapter 5: The Cities of the Damned
New York had become a towering necropolis, skyscrapers transformed into slaughterhouses. The rich who once looked down on the poor now hung from hooks in their own penthouses, gutted like pigs. Wall Street traders, their bodies flayed and sold by the pound, lined the windows of what were once luxurious offices.
Los Angeles burned, the Hollywood sign barely visible through the black smoke of mass cremations. The celebrities, those who had once commanded millions with their voices and faces, had been devoured long ago. The ones who had fled to their mansions in the hills were hunted, dragged back, screaming, to the city they had abandoned.
Chapter 6: The Last Hope Dies
There had been whispers of an underground resistance—scientists, farmers, those who refused to partake in the slaughter. They had barricaded themselves deep in underground bunkers, stockpiling food, praying that the madness above would pass.
But starvation does not recognize walls. And when their food ran out, when the screams echoed down the tunnels, when the scent of flesh filled the air, they too fell.
They had called themselves the last hope. Now, they were just another feast.
Chapter 7: The Forever Hunger
Twenty years had passed since the collapse. The old world was forgotten, replaced by this new, carnivorous reality. The survivors no longer dreamed of a better future. There was no future. There was only meat.
The few remaining humans who had not succumbed to cannibalism were hunted like animals. They lived in constant terror, moving only at night, whispering prayers to gods who no longer listened.
They had seen what happened to those who resisted. Their bones lined the highways, their skulls cracked open and emptied. There were no graveyards anymore. There was no need.
In the end, it was not war, nor disease, nor climate change that ended America. It was hunger. And hunger never dies.