Modern Weapon System in the Zombie Apocalypse

Mist hung over the valley, curling through the trees like pale smoke. The ground was slick with dew, the kind that soaked through boots and left a chill even in early spring. The world smelled fresh—clean in a way Riku hadn't felt since before everything burned.

He stood outside the cabin, rifle slung over his shoulder, watching the thin fog drift across the hills. Behind him came the muffled sounds of movement—footsteps, metal scraping, the faint rustle of bags being packed.

It was time.

Suzune appeared at the doorway, hair tied back, a canteen hanging from her belt. "Everything's ready," she said.

Riku nodded. "Food?"

"Two days' worth, if we're careful."

"Ammo?"

Ichika's voice called from inside. "Not enough to start a war, but enough to finish one."

"Then we move light," Riku said.

Suzune glanced toward the small garden behind the lodge. The green shoots Hana had named stood quietly in the morning mist. "Feels wrong leaving this behind."

"It was never meant to last," Riku said quietly. "Nothing does."

Suzune sighed. "You always have to ruin sentimental moments, huh?"

"Someone has to."

From inside, Ichika muttered, "Yeah, and it's always you."

Riku ignored her. He stepped off the porch, boots sinking slightly into the soft ground, scanning the treeline one last time. The forest was still, save for a few birds darting between branches. No movement. No smoke.

"Clear," he said.

Inside, the cabin looked emptier than it ever had. The stove had gone cold. The candle stubs were packed away, the table wiped clean. Even Hana's drawing—the one with seven stick figures holding hands—was missing from the wall.

Hana stood beside the door, clutching a small backpack. Her eyes flicked around the room as if trying to memorize every inch. "It feels weird," she whispered.

Emi knelt beside her, tying the straps on her own pack. "That's because it's home," she said softly. "And homes are supposed to feel like that when you leave."

Ken asked, "Will we ever come back?"

Riku paused, hand on the doorknob. "If the world lets us," he said.

Suzune gave him a look. "You really need to work on saying comforting things."

He didn't reply.

Ichika slung her rifle across her shoulder. "All right, people. Last one out kills the lights."

Suzune turned off the generator switch by the wall. The faint hum faded into silence. For a moment, all they could hear was the wind brushing through the cracks.

Then Riku opened the door, and they stepped out into the mist.

The truck coughed to life after two tries. The old diesel engine rumbled like a tired animal, spewing a thin trail of smoke from its exhaust.

Ichika patted the dashboard affectionately. "Still runs like a champ."

Riku raised an eyebrow. "That thing almost exploded last time."

"Keyword: almost," she said. "Besides, you don't see any other ride around here."

"Fair point," he said.

The group loaded what they could into the back—fuel cans, food, blankets, and two rifles wrapped in cloth. Suzune and Emi sat inside the cabin with the kids while Riku and Ichika took the front.

The road ahead was narrow, half-eaten by weeds and mud, but it led east—toward Nagano.

"Everyone ready?" Riku asked.

"Born ready," Ichika said, cracking her knuckles.

"Scared," Hana admitted from the back.

"That's normal," Suzune said gently. "Means you're paying attention."

Riku shifted the truck into gear. "Then let's go."

The tires churned through mud, leaving deep tracks as the lodge disappeared behind them.

No one spoke for a while.

The road wound through the mountain like a scar. Fallen trees forced detours, and sometimes they had to stop to clear rocks or debris.

"Feels strange," Suzune said quietly as they drove. "After all that time waiting, we're finally moving again."

Ichika grinned from the passenger seat. "Told you I was getting cabin fever. I was this close to teaching Hana how to swear just for entertainment."

"You do that and I'll shoot your tires," Riku said flatly.

"See? Always the fun police."

Despite the tension, laughter rippled through the truck. It felt good—normal, even.

They passed the burned remains of a village by midday. Blackened beams jutted from the ground like broken teeth, and a single rusted bicycle lay in the street. No bodies, no movement, just the echo of what had been.

Hana pressed her face to the window. "What happened here?"

Emi's voice was soft. "Fire. Maybe people fought over supplies."

Ken whispered, "Are they all gone?"

Riku kept his eyes on the road. "Yeah. They're gone."

Suzune's hand tightened around her rifle. "Then we keep moving."

By afternoon, the fog had lifted, revealing rolling hills and distant peaks still capped in white. The truck rattled over cracked asphalt, every bump echoing through the chassis.

"Fuel's halfway," Ichika said, glancing at the gauge.

"We'll refill at the next stop," Riku said.

"Assuming it's not crawling with Burners."

"Then we make it quick."

The radio sat silent between them, an old relic wired into the dash. Every few miles, Ichika tried tuning it again, but all they got was static.

Then—briefly—a faint voice cut through.

"…safe… Nagano… survivors welcome…"

And then it vanished.

Hana gasped. "You heard that!"

Suzune turned sharply. "It's real."

Ichika frowned. "Or bait. Could be Burners broadcasting fake signals again."

Riku said nothing, but his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Suzune glanced at him. "You think it's worth the risk?"

He nodded slowly. "We've been ghosts long enough. If there's even a chance someone's rebuilding, we need to know."

Ichika sighed. "Guess we're betting our lives on a maybe."

"Wouldn't be the first time," he said.

They stopped before sunset near a collapsed service station halfway down the mountain.

The roof had caved in, but the pumps still stood, rusted and green with moss. Old signs lay scattered across the ground—faded logos, broken glass, a poster advertising canned coffee.

Riku parked behind the structure, half-hidden from the road. "Ichika, check the tanks. Suzune, perimeter with me."

"Copy that," Suzune said, chambering a round.

Emi stayed with the kids inside the truck.

The air smelled of rust and rain-soaked asphalt. Birds scattered as Riku and Suzune moved around the side of the station, scanning for movement. The silence felt heavier here.

Suzune crouched, pointing to the dirt near the pump. "Footprints. Two sets. Not old."

"Same boots as before?" Riku asked.

"Smaller. Lighter. Could be scavengers."

He nodded. "Stay sharp."

Ichika's voice called from the back, "Tanks are dry! But I found some sealed cans inside the kiosk. Smells fine—ish."

"Grab them," Riku said. "We'll risk one tonight."

They regrouped at the truck as the sun dipped below the horizon. Clouds rolled in again, painting the world in gray and orange.

Riku watched the fading light. "We'll camp here. No fire."

Ichika groaned. "Another cold dinner?"

Suzune smirked. "You can sleep outside if you prefer warmth."

"Pass."

That night, they stayed inside the truck. Rain began to fall again, light and steady. The rhythmic tapping on the roof blended with the sound of breathing.

Hana and Ken slept first, curled under blankets. Emi kept watch with a small flashlight, the dim beam casting soft shadows across the cabin.

Riku sat in the driver's seat, staring through the windshield.

Suzune whispered beside him. "You're thinking again."

"Always," he said.

"About what?"

"The signal. The tracks. The people we haven't seen."

She leaned her head back, sighing. "You know, normal people would've said 'the future' or 'what comes next.'"

"I stopped being normal a long time ago."

Suzune smiled faintly. "Yeah. Me too."

A flash of lightning cut through the clouds, followed by thunder. For a moment, everything was white, then dark again.

Riku glanced toward the forest line. "We'll move at dawn."

When dawn came, the rain had stopped. Steam rose from the wet ground as the first sunlight broke over the ridges.

Ichika stretched, yawning loudly. "I miss beds."

"You never liked that one anyway," Suzune said.

"I liked not having back pain."

Riku checked the tires and refilled one of the fuel cans from a half-rusted drum Ichika had salvaged. The truck sputtered but started without issue.

"Next stop—Nagano," he said.

As they drove down the mountain road, the landscape began to change. The woods thinned into low fields, and the signs of civilization—old traffic lights, tilted power poles—started to appear again.

Then they saw it.

A radio tower, tall and rusted, standing over a small cluster of buildings at the base of a valley.

Suzune leaned forward. "That's where the signal came from."

Ichika squinted. "Looks dead."

"Only one way to find out," Riku said.

They approached slowly.

The town was quiet, eerily so. Cars sat abandoned along the main street, covered in vines. A banner still hung across one intersection, faded words barely visible: COMMUNITY REFUGE — HELP IS HERE.

Hana whispered, "Doesn't look like anyone's home."

Riku parked near the old tower. The base door hung open, creaking softly in the wind.

Ichika scanned the windows. "No movement."

Suzune looked at Riku. "Want me on point?"

He nodded. "We move slow. Watch every corner."

The air inside the building was stale. Dust coated the floor, disturbed only by their footsteps. A desk, a few broken monitors, and a shortwave transmitter sat in one corner—still powered by a small generator humming faintly.

Riku stepped closer, checking the frequency dial. It was still transmitting on loop.

Suzune's eyes widened. "That means someone set it recently."

"Or someone wanted it to look that way," Ichika said.

Emi crouched by the table, brushing dust from a notebook. "There's writing here… lists of names. 'Intake group three… food schedule… ration count.'"

Riku flipped to the last page. The handwriting grew messy, frantic.

"Moving east. Can't stay. Radio left running for any survivors."

The final line was smeared, but one word stood clear: "Infected."

Suzune's grip tightened on her weapon. "So they left."

Riku nodded slowly. "And not because they wanted to."

Hana's small voice trembled. "Are they coming back?"

He looked at her. "No. But we might find where they went."

Ichika sighed. "East, huh? Always east."

"Then that's where we go next," Riku said.

They stood outside the tower as wind swept through the empty streets. The world felt larger again—uncertain, dangerous, alive.

Suzune looked toward the horizon, where faint sunlight broke through the clouds. "You think we'll ever stop running?"

Riku didn't answer right away. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the rustle of the trees.

Finally, he said, "Maybe not. But we'll keep moving until there's somewhere worth stopping for."

Ichika smirked. "You make it sound like we're nomads."

"Maybe we are," Suzune said quietly. "Nomads of what's left."

Behind them, the radio crackled again—faint, broken words in a different voice this time.

"…Nagano sector compromised… survivors regrouping… east… Shinonome Pass…"

Everyone froze.

Ichika blinked. "Did that say compromised?"

Riku turned toward the truck. "Pack up. We're not staying here."

Hana grabbed her backpack. "But—what about the safe zone?"

He looked back at the silent tower, the endless road beyond it.

"There's no safe zone," he said quietly. "Not yet."

Suzune met his gaze. "Then we'll make one."

Riku nodded. "Yeah. One step at a time."

The engine roared back to life, echoing through the hollow town. As they drove east, past the radio tower and the ghost of the refuge that once was, the mist began to lift once more.

Spring sunlight spilled across the road ahead—bright, golden, and uncertain.

And for a fleeting moment, as the truck vanished over the ridge, it felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see if they could survive it a little longer.