Modern Weapon System in the Zombie Apocalypse

The road to Shinonome Pass wound like a scar through the mountains—long, narrow, and filled with silence.

The kind of silence that pressed on the chest, where even the hum of the truck engine sounded too loud.

Riku kept both hands on the wheel. The diesel rattled beneath his grip, vibrating through his arms. His eyes flicked between the cracked road and the forest shadows crawling on either side. Every bend looked the same—gray bark, black soil, the remains of what used to be Japan's countryside. Somewhere deep in the woods, a crow screamed, sharp and distant.

Behind him, the others sat in near-total quiet.

Hana was sketching in a small notebook, her pencil whispering over paper. Emi leaned against the window, eyelids heavy. Ken stared at the floor, holding the strap of his pack tightly, as if afraid someone might take it.

Ichika broke the silence first. "You ever notice how every place we go smells like the end of the world?"

Suzune shot her a look. "That's because it is."

"Yeah, but still," Ichika muttered. "Would it kill fate to give us one road without the stench of wet ash and diesel?"

Riku didn't answer. He was focused on the road—more specifically, what lay on the road.

A dark patch ahead.

He slowed the truck, the tires crunching on gravel. "Hold."

Suzune leaned forward, hand on her rifle. "What is it?"

Riku didn't speak right away. The dark shape wasn't moving—but it wasn't flat, either. It had weight.

He stopped the truck completely, letting the engine idle.

"Stay put," he said, opening the door.

Cold air rushed in, carrying the scent of rain-soaked wood and rust. He stepped out carefully, boots pressing into the muddy shoulder. The others watched from inside, silent.

As he approached, he saw what it was—a body.

A man, maybe in his forties, lying face-down on the road. His clothes were torn, streaked with mud and blood. A crude spear was still gripped in one hand.

Riku crouched beside him. The man's neck was torn open—clean, deep, unmistakable.

Not animal work. Not Burners either. This was precision—a knife, maybe.

Suzune appeared beside him, rifle ready. "Human?"

"Looks like it," Riku murmured. He rolled the man slightly, careful not to make noise. The face was pale and stiff, eyes open toward the sky.

Suzune frowned. "He's fresh."

"Hours at most."

That sent a chill through her. "Then whoever did this might still be close."

Riku stood. "Get the others ready to move."

Ichika called from the truck, "What's the story?"

"Dead scav," Suzune said. "We move."

Ichika's grin faded. "Copy that."

As they loaded back into the truck, Riku's eyes swept the tree line again. The forest swayed quietly under the wind—too quietly.

He climbed in and started the engine.

"Keep your eyes open," he said.

They drove for another hour before stopping. The mountains began to close in, the road narrowing into a steep path lined with broken guardrails and collapsed asphalt. Patches of snow still clung to the higher slopes.

"Fuel's low again," Ichika said.

Riku nodded. "Next shelter, we stop."

Hana perked up. "Do you think people from the tower came this way?"

"Maybe," Emi said gently. "The message said they went east."

"Then maybe we'll find them," Hana said.

Riku didn't respond. Hope was a fragile thing—too fragile for words.

By midday, clouds rolled in again. The light dimmed, the world shifting from silver to gray.

They found a rest area—half buried in vines and moss, with an old vending machine lying on its side.

Riku parked under an overhang. "Break," he said. "Fifteen minutes."

The group climbed out, stretching. Suzune walked to the edge of the overlook, staring down the valley. Smoke curled in the far distance—thin, white, deliberate.

"See that?" she asked.

Riku joined her. "Yeah."

"Campfire?"

"Could be."

"Or signal."

He watched for a long moment. "Either way, we check it out."

Ichika groaned. "You sure? That's two klicks off-road, through forest we haven't scouted."

Riku gave her a look. "You'd rather drive blind through a mountain pass without knowing who's ahead?"

"…Fair point," she muttered. "But if I get eaten by ferals, I'm haunting you."

"Get ready," he said simply.

They left the truck hidden behind the rest stop, covering it with an old tarp and branches. The forest swallowed them quickly—the path narrowing into damp earth and roots. Their boots made little noise, trained by months of survival.

Suzune led with Riku close behind, both rifles raised. Ichika covered the rear. The kids and Emi stayed in the truck—locked in, armed, and waiting for a signal.

The forest was dense, full of the smell of pine and decay. Mist gathered between the trunks, pale as smoke.

Halfway through the climb, Suzune stopped abruptly, crouching low.

Riku mirrored her. "What is it?"

She pointed to the ground. "Tracks. Human. Fresh."

He knelt to look. The prints were shallow but distinct—barefoot, smaller than average. "Children?"

"Could be," she whispered. "But why barefoot?"

Riku frowned. "Keep moving. Quiet."

They advanced another hundred meters before they saw the camp.

A small clearing, ringed by stones and fallen branches. The fire was still burning faintly, but no one was there. A few makeshift shelters leaned against the trees—tarps, old curtains, even a door ripped from a car.

Suzune scanned the area. "No movement."

Riku moved to the center, crouching near the fire. A pot sat over the coals, half full of murky water and something that looked like rice.

Still warm.

"They left recently," he said.

Ichika checked one of the shelters. "They didn't pack light—blankets, utensils, even a doll." She held up the small cloth toy, its stitching torn. "Kids, definitely."

Riku's jaw tightened. "Then where are they?"

A soft sound answered him—a shuffle from the bushes to their right.

Suzune swung her rifle instantly. "Hold!"

Riku raised a hand. "Wait."

From the brush came a girl—no older than eight, face smeared with dirt. She froze when she saw them, eyes wide and glassy. Her clothes were ragged, her hair tangled. In one hand, she held a rusted kitchen knife too large for her arm.

Riku lowered his rifle slowly. "Hey," he said softly. "It's okay."

She didn't move.

Suzune whispered, "She's shaking."

"Starved," Riku murmured. "Look at her hands."

The girl's fingers were thin, bones pressing through skin. Her lips trembled. "P-please…" she whispered. "Don't shoot."

Ichika lowered her weapon too. "Kid, we're not the ones you gotta worry about."

Riku stepped closer, slow and deliberate. "You alone?"

The girl shook her head weakly. "M-my brother… he's hurt."

"Where?"

She pointed toward the far trees.

Riku turned to Suzune. "Cover me."

They followed her through the brush to a collapsed tent. Inside, a boy about twelve lay on the ground, pale and sweating. A crude bandage covered his leg—soaked through with dark blood.

"Gunshot," Suzune said instantly.

The girl whimpered. "They came at night. Said the road was theirs."

"Bandits," Riku muttered.

Suzune knelt beside the boy, checking the wound. "Bullet's still in. We need tools."

Ichika cursed softly. "We don't have time to play doctor in the woods."

"We don't leave him," Riku said firmly.

Suzune met his eyes. "You sure about this?"

"Yeah. If he dies, she won't last a day."

They worked quickly. Suzune heated her knife in the fire while Riku poured antiseptic from a small bottle. The boy groaned as they cleaned the wound, biting down on a rag. The bullet came out with a wet, metallic clink.

"Pressure," Suzune said. "Now."

Ichika handed over a strip of cloth. They wrapped the wound tight, securing it.

Riku looked at the girl. "What's your name?"

"Yui," she whispered. "My brother's Ren."

"Well, Yui," he said quietly, "you're coming with us."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

He nodded. "No one gets left behind."

Suzune added, "But you have to keep quiet. Understand?"

Yui nodded quickly.

They carried Ren between them, moving fast through the forest. The light was fading, the wind colder now. When they reached the rest stop, Emi and the kids were waiting outside the truck, eyes wide.

"Who are they?" Hana asked.

"Survivors," Riku said. "Help Emi get them inside."

Suzune climbed into the back, checking Ren's pulse again. "He'll make it if we keep the bandage clean."

Yui sat beside him, clutching his hand. "Thank you…"

Ichika leaned against the side of the truck, breathing out. "Well, that was fun."

Riku looked toward the forest one last time. "We move before night."

The road ahead narrowed even more. Snow began to fall—soft at first, then heavier. The windshield wipers squeaked back and forth, fighting the white.

Inside, the air grew colder. Hana shared her blanket with Yui, while Ken helped Suzune boil water on a small stove. The smell of instant noodles filled the cabin—faint but comforting.

Ichika slouched in her seat. "You ever think about what comes after this?"

Riku didn't look away from the road. "No."

"Come on. Say we find that 'safe zone.' What then? We build a farm? Start a school?"

"Maybe," Suzune said. "Maybe we just live."

Ichika chuckled. "Live, huh. Sounds nice."

Riku's eyes narrowed suddenly. "Hold on."

Up ahead, the road was blocked—two trucks parked sideways across the asphalt, lights off, doors open.

A makeshift barricade.

"Ambush," he said.

Suzune grabbed her rifle. "Positions?"

"Three on the right slope. Two behind the trucks."

Ichika's grin returned. "So we're doing this the loud way."

"Only if they start it."

The truck rolled to a stop fifty meters away. Silence fell again—no movement, no voices. Just the steady hiss of falling snow.

Then, from behind one of the wrecks, a figure appeared—man in a leather jacket, rifle slung across his chest. He waved his hand.

"Drop your weapons!" he shouted. "Road's closed. Toll's one tank of fuel."

Ichika snorted. "Toll my ass."

Riku stepped out of the cab, rifle low but ready. "Not looking for trouble."

The man grinned, teeth yellow. "Then pay and move along."

"Can't do that."

Behind him, more figures emerged—six, maybe seven. All armed.

Suzune muttered, "They're desperate."

"Desperate people shoot faster," Riku said quietly.

The man took a step closer. "Last chance."

Riku met his eyes. "Same."

For a moment, neither moved.

Then a gunshot cracked the air.

The man dropped instantly, blood splattering the snow. Ichika lowered her rifle from the truck window. "He twitched first."

"Contact!" Suzune shouted.

The firefight erupted in seconds—gunfire echoing between cliffs, flashes lighting the dark. Riku took cover behind the front bumper, firing controlled bursts. Bullets sparked against metal. Suzune picked off a figure on the ridge. Ichika reloaded, grinning despite herself.

Inside the truck, Emi shielded the children. Yui clung to Hana, trembling.

"Stay down!" Emi ordered.

Outside, the gunfire began to fade. One by one, the attackers fell silent. The snow soaked red around them.

When it was over, Riku stood, breathing hard. Steam rose from the barrels of their weapons.

Suzune swept the area. "Clear."

Ichika climbed out, shaking snow from her hair. "Well, that went smoothly."

"Check their supplies," Riku said. "Take what we can use."

They found a few cans of food, two working radios, and a single map—hand-drawn, marked with routes and notes.

Suzune spread it on the hood. "Look here," she said. "This mark—Shinonome Pass. Circled twice."

Ichika leaned over. "Probably their camp."

"Or the last place they hit," Suzune said.

Riku's eyes narrowed. "Either way, it's next."

By the time they resumed driving, night had fully fallen. The snowfall eased, revealing a pale moon between the clouds. The world outside glowed faintly silver.

Inside the truck, quiet returned.

Ren slept, bandaged leg propped on a folded blanket. Yui dozed beside him. The others sat in silence, too tired to speak.

Riku's eyes stayed fixed on the road.

Suzune glanced at him. "You okay?"

He nodded once. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

He hesitated. "The tower message said survivors were regrouping east. But if these bandits were guarding the pass…"

"They killed them," Suzune finished.

"Maybe," he said quietly. "Or maybe someone's still out there."

Suzune looked out the window, watching the moonlight on the snow. "You always chase maybes."

"It's all we have left," he said.

For a long while, no one spoke. The engine hummed softly, the road stretched ahead like an endless gray ribbon.

Then, faintly, from the static of the radio—

a voice.

"…Shinonome… coordinates… need help… please…"

Riku's hand tightened on the dial. The voice was weak, nearly drowned by static—but it was there. Real.

Suzune's eyes met his. "That was live."

He nodded. "Someone's still alive out there."

Ichika grinned wearily. "Then guess what, boss. We're not done yet."

Riku shifted gears, pressing the accelerator.

The truck climbed into the darkness of the mountain pass, its headlights cutting through the mist.

The storm had passed, but something in the air felt heavier now—like the world was holding its breath again.

Ahead lay Shinonome Pass—and whatever waited beyond it.