Duck It!

C.O.B.'s Duck It! is set in 2035, two years after the PAN-R virus. The story follows Lionel Romero, a thirty-five-year-old landscaper from Fort Lauderdale, who sets out for the Midwest in a stolen golf cart truck after a virus wipes out 99% of humanity. With his mom’s bible, his father’s revolver, and a dream not to die in Florida, he abandons his childhood home and drives a stolen royal-blue electric golf cart truck (the “GCT”) toward Dubuque. What follows is a road-trip journal that is hilarious, profane, and surprisingly tender. C.O.B. gives Lionel a voice that feels completely real: he contradicts himself, rambles, admits things most narrators never would, and apologizes to no one. He buries the Lawrence family beside Exit 254, ferries party-bound cyclists Aden and Liam to Nassau, and makes the ancient Polisen Tree his family memorial. The commune of women captures him and brands him “NWWBA,” orphans wielding knives carjack him, and a Duke gifts him with s'mores. Will he be able to finally cross the Saint Mary’s River as a fleeing biker?

Duck It! is not your typical apocalypse novel. The humor lands because it comes from honesty, not punchlines. In one chapter, Lionel is burying a dead family on the highway; the next, he's ranking his apocalypse playlist. Lionel's grief sneaks up on you between jokes about hard seltzer and s'mores. The pacing drags in a few reflective passages, but the voice carries it. It's crude, chaotic, and quietly devastating. Character work is exceptional, and Lionel is the triumph: grieving and self-correcting. The kind of man who stops mid-sentence, realizing he has blamed his father unfairly. The worldbuilding absorbs because of the small details like the backyard burials, drones repurposed as grave-diggers, the “PLEASE!!” signs on unlocked stores, and the collective shrug of #impromptuvaca. Balancing tenderness with profanity, Duck It! turns a slow drive north into a surprisingly moving meditation on freedom, grief, and finally leaving home. If you want dystopian fiction with heart, guts, and zero sentimentality, read this.