Modern Weapon System in the Zombie Apocalypse

The truck bounced over the broken highway, its old suspension groaning as they descended into the valley. The morning fog was beginning to thin, revealing stretches of gray farmland and collapsed utility poles.

For the first time in weeks, the world almost looked peaceful. Almost.

Riku kept both hands on the wheel, eyes scanning the road ahead. "Fuel's halfway," he muttered.

Suzune, riding shotgun, checked the map folded on her lap. "If we stay on Route 19, we'll reach Matsumoto by nightfall."

Ichika yawned in the backseat, a rifle across her knees. "That's assuming no one—or nothing—decides to welcome us first."

Hana hugged her stuffed rabbit and looked out the window. The world outside passed like an endless graveyard of steel and vines. "Do you think there are nice people there?"

"Maybe," Riku said. "We'll find out soon."

For an hour, they drove without incident. Birds circled the fields. The air smelled faintly of rain and rust. When the fog lifted completely, they saw the outline of the city far ahead—Matsumoto, still standing, but scarred.

Broken rooftops. Half-burned buildings. A faint black plume rising somewhere near the outskirts.

Suzune frowned. "Looks recent."

"Maybe smoke from a campfire," Ichika said.

"Or a signal," Riku added.

The road narrowed where a landslide had eaten half the hillside. Riku slowed the truck to a crawl. The edge of the asphalt dropped straight into a muddy ravine below.

Suzune scanned the slope. "We'll need to take the detour."

"That small farm road?" Ichika leaned forward, peering past Riku's shoulder. "It looks like a one-way death trap."

"It's either that or we walk the rest of the way."

Riku nodded. "We'll risk it. But we go slow."

He turned the wheel, guiding the truck onto the narrow side road. Grass and wildflowers brushed against the doors as they moved. A small canal ran beside the path, the water brown with silt.

The sound of the engine echoed between the trees.

Hana leaned forward. "It's quiet here."

Suzune gave her a small smile. "That's good. Quiet means safe."

But quiet rarely lasted long.

After another kilometer, Suzune raised a hand. "Stop."

Riku hit the brakes. "What is it?"

She pointed toward the bridge up ahead—a short span of concrete over the canal. Something blocked the way.

A delivery truck had crashed sideways across the road. Its back doors hung open, one wheel dangling over the canal. The cargo bay was filled with cardboard boxes torn apart by claws and teeth.

Riku's stomach tightened. "Stay in the cab."

He shut off the engine and stepped out. Suzune and Ichika followed.

The air was still. No wind, no birds. Just the steady drip of water from the truck's undercarriage.

Suzune crouched beside the bridge rail, rifle ready. "Blood trail—leading to the other side."

Ichika gripped her shotgun tighter. "Could still be fresh."

"Don't go too far," Riku warned. "We clear it fast."

He circled the front of the wreck, checking the shadows under the truck. Nothing. The engine was cold—must've been here for days.

Suzune climbed onto the back bumper and peeked inside the cargo bay. "Canned food. Most of it untouched."

"Maybe we finally got lucky," Ichika said.

But before Suzune could reply, something moved under the tarp.

A faint shuffle. Then a hand—gray, bloated—gripped the torn cardboard.

"Contact!" Suzune shouted.

The thing lunged out from under the boxes, mouth wide and dripping black water. Its body was half-soaked, clothes clinging to rotted flesh.

Riku raised his rifle but didn't fire. "Suzune—your shot!"

She reacted instantly, firing once. The bullet cracked through the skull, and the corpse fell back into the pile.

Ichika climbed onto the bridge beside her. "That one was hiding. There could be more underneath."

Riku's eyes swept the canal. Ripples spread across the water. One. Two. Then three.

"Get ready," he said.

Shapes emerged from the muddy canal—human forms, their skin blistered pale from days underwater. One crawled onto the bank, dragging broken legs. Another stumbled upright, head tilted, mouth gnashing.

Suzune and Ichika moved forward in sync, each taking a side of the bridge.

Riku climbed back into the driver's seat. "I'll cover the cab. Keep them off the truck."

Hana crouched low in the backseat, clutching her rabbit. "Big brother…"

"It's okay," Riku said calmly. "They'll handle it."

Outside, the first wave reached the road.

Suzune aimed carefully, controlled bursts, her rifle crack echoing through the trees. "Left flank—two coming up!"

Ichika took position on the right, firing her shotgun into the crowd. Each blast threw up dirt and flesh. "I see them!"

The air filled with smoke and the stench of decay.

More crawlers climbed from the canal, arms scraping against the concrete. One reached the bridge rail, teeth snapping. Ichika swung the butt of her shotgun, smashing its jaw clean off before kicking it into the water.

"Nice shot!" Suzune shouted.

"I wasn't aiming!" Ichika yelled back.

Suzune shifted position, firing at the far end of the bridge. "Three more incoming!"

"I'm reloading!"

"Then move your ass!"

Ichika ejected the empty shells and jammed new ones in. She didn't even flinch when one of the infected reached for her leg—she spun and fired point-blank, painting the railing red.

Riku watched from the truck, jaw tight. He could've helped, but he didn't move. He trusted them.

The bridge became a killing ground—bullets cracking, shells dropping, the canal filling with corpses.

Suzune reloaded smoothly, eyes cold and steady. She'd always been surgical, precise, her shots quiet and efficient. Ichika, in contrast, was pure chaos—loud, fast, and messy, yet somehow effective.

When the last crawler went down, the silence returned, broken only by the sound of empty casings rolling on the pavement.

Suzune lowered her rifle. "Clear."

Ichika wiped sweat from her brow. "Damn. I think that's the first time I killed more than you."

"Only because I let you."

"You're impossible."

"Professional," Suzune corrected.

Riku stepped out of the truck, checking the area. "Good work. You handled that cleanly."

Ichika grinned, breathless. "So? How'd we do?"

"Seven out of ten," he said. "You wasted two shells."

She groaned. "Always the critic."

Suzune inspected her rifle. "The noise will draw more. We need to move."

"Agreed," Riku said. He glanced toward the crashed delivery truck. "Grab what you can from the boxes. We're low on supplies."

They worked quickly, tossing canned food and sealed water bottles into their packs. Most of the cargo was salvageable.

Hana climbed out of the cab and peeked from behind Riku's leg. "Are they gone?"

"All gone," Ichika said, crouching to her level. "See? We're fine."

Hana nodded, still hugging her rabbit. "You're brave."

Ichika smiled faintly. "Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to keep."

Suzune slung her rifle. "Bridge is clear. Let's roll."

They pushed the wreck just enough for the truck to pass. The tires splashed through the muddy canal water before finding grip on the other side.

As they drove away, Ichika leaned back in her seat, staring at the smoke rising from the river. "That's the fifth time this week. They're getting bolder."

"Or hungrier," Suzune said quietly.

Riku didn't respond. His hands were steady on the wheel, but his eyes stayed hard.

The silence stretched until Hana spoke softly. "You didn't fight this time, Riku."

He glanced at her in the mirror. "They didn't need me."

Suzune looked over at him. "You trust us that much now?"

"I always did," he said simply.

Ichika smirked. "You just didn't admit it before."

"Maybe."

The road wound upward again, cutting through the edge of a forest. Rays of sunlight filtered through the canopy, glinting off puddles and steel. Birds chirped faintly somewhere far off—a sound that almost felt normal.

For a moment, they could breathe.

Suzune folded the map again. "Once we reach the highway junction, we'll be close to the outskirts. Matsumoto Castle's about three kilometers west of there."

Ichika nodded. "If we're lucky, maybe the signal we caught came from that area."

"Or someone using it to lure survivors," Suzune said.

Riku's grip tightened slightly. "Either way, we'll find out."

The truck rattled over another pothole. Hana leaned her head on her brother's arm and closed her eyes, exhaustion finally catching up.

Ichika watched her and exhaled softly. "She's tough for a kid."

"She has to be," Riku said. "We all do."

They didn't talk much after that. The valley opened ahead, the faint outline of Matsumoto growing clearer through the haze. But between them and the city lay miles of silence—and whatever else still crawled beneath it.

When the first wind gust hit, carrying the faint smell of smoke and ash, Suzune rolled the window halfway down. She looked back toward the hills they'd left behind—the mountain that no longer breathed.

"Riku," she said quietly. "You think it's really over?"

He didn't answer immediately. His eyes stayed on the road. "It's never over. But we're still moving. That's what matters."

Ichika snorted. "You sound like a motivational poster."

Suzune smirked faintly. "At least it's better than your jokes."

They laughed softly—just enough to break the tension.

As the sun dipped lower behind the trees, the truck continued its steady crawl toward the city. Their clothes still smelled of gunpowder and rot, but the air ahead smelled faintly of civilization—burnt wood, smoke, maybe even cooking oil.

For survivors like them, that was hope enough.

The fight was over. The road wasn't. But for now, they were alive, and that was all they needed.