Zombie Apocalypse: I Gain Access to In-Game System

The mountain road twisted downward through fog and pine, the air heavy with the scent of oil and smoke. The truck rattled with every bump, its old suspension groaning under the weight of people and supplies. Riku drove in silence, his eyes fixed on the narrow strip of gray ahead. Every few seconds, he checked the rearview mirror—half expecting to see something following them from the dam.

Nothing yet.

But that hum… even now, he swore he could still feel it, echoing faintly through the steering wheel. A low vibration, deep in the earth.

Suzune sat beside him, her rifle resting across her knees. "You're doing that thing again," she said quietly.

"What thing?"

"Thinking too loud."

Riku exhaled through his nose. "I can't shake it. The system was still active—someone had to reinitialize it."

"Or it's running on autopilot," she countered. "It's an old military site. Maybe the grid was self-contained."

Riku shook his head. "No. That wasn't just power running. It was… aware."

Suzune's brow furrowed. "Machines don't get aware, Riku."

He didn't reply.

Behind them, Ichika leaned forward from the back seat, chewing on a protein bar like it was the last good thing in the world. "If either of you starts talking about ghosts in the machine, I'm jumping out right now. We've had enough weird science for a lifetime."

Riku smirked faintly. "You're welcome to walk."

"Tempting," Ichika said, grinning, then tore off another bite. "But the heater's still working, so I'll stay."

In the back, the others dozed in uneasy sleep. Emi sat with her head against the window, one arm wrapped around Hana and Yui. The kids huddled under a thick blanket, the fabric rising and falling with their slow breathing. Ren, his leg still bandaged, stirred occasionally but said nothing.

The truck rounded another bend, tires crunching through thin ice that had crept across the road overnight. The sun was long gone, leaving only a pale afterglow behind the peaks.

Suzune's gaze drifted to the side mirror. "We need fuel before morning. The gauge is nearly at zero."

"There's a service station marked on the old maps, east of here," Riku said. "Might be intact."

"Might," Ichika echoed. "Big word these days."

Suzune gave her a sidelong glance. "You got any better ideas?"

Ichika shrugged. "I didn't say no. Just reminding you that luck hates us."

The conversation faded. The truck continued down the mountain, headlights slicing through mist. Somewhere in the forest below, something called—a deep, distant sound like metal grinding against stone.

None of them spoke after that.

By dawn, the storm had passed. The world lay still beneath a blanket of frost, trees bowing under ice. The service station came into view just after sunrise—a squat building half-buried in snow, its roof sagging, pumps long rusted.

Riku stopped the truck and stepped out, shotgun in hand. His breath steamed in the cold air.

Suzune followed, sweeping her rifle across the treeline. "Doesn't look promising."

"Check the tanks anyway," Riku said. "We'll siphon what we can."

Ichika hopped out, stretching her arms. "If I freeze to death, I'm haunting both of you."

"Get in line," Suzune muttered.

They split up. Riku circled the back of the station, stepping over broken glass and half-buried tires. The air reeked faintly of gasoline—a good sign. He found an old maintenance hatch near the generator shed and pried it open. Beneath, dark liquid sloshed faintly in the reserve tank.

"Still some left," he said through the radio. "We can fill at least half."

"Copy that," Suzune's voice crackled.

He grabbed the siphon pump from the truck bed and got to work. Every pull of the handle echoed through the frozen air. The rhythmic slurp of liquid felt too loud in the silence.

Then he heard it—footsteps crunching behind him.

He turned sharply, shotgun raised.

A figure emerged from the mist—a man, bundled in scavenged winter clothes, his face hidden by a scarf and goggles. He held a hunting rifle, pointed down but ready.

"Hold it," Riku said evenly.

The man raised one hand. "I don't want trouble." His voice was rough, cracked with cold. "You're from the west road, yeah? The pass?"

Riku didn't lower the weapon. "Who's asking?"

"Name's Takeda. I used to run with the Shinonome group. You—" His eyes darted to the truck, where Suzune and Ichika were refueling. "You came from the dam?"

Riku studied him carefully. "You know about it?"

The man hesitated. "I was there. Before it went bad."

Suzune's voice came through the radio. "Riku?"

He pressed the button. "Hold position. We've got company."

Ichika swore softly. "Of course we do."

Riku gestured for the man to lower his scarf. Takeda obeyed. His face was gaunt, beard patchy, but his eyes were alert—haunted, but sane.

"What happened there?" Riku asked.

Takeda looked down, his hands trembling slightly. "They were trying to control the infection. The early stages, before people turned completely. Said they could integrate it—make soldiers immune." He shook his head. "They lied. It twisted them instead."

"Those 'subjects,'" Riku said.

Takeda nodded. "They weren't prisoners. They were volunteers. Scientists, engineers, even soldiers. They thought they were saving humanity."

Ichika muttered from across the lot, "Yeah, well, humanity doesn't look too saved."

Takeda's gaze flicked to her. "You think it ends there? That dam was just one facility. The whole program had seven sites across the region."

Suzune froze. "Seven?"

"Project Harbor," Takeda said quietly. "Each one designed to test different infection responses. Shinonome was the power hub. Without it, the others are dormant… for now."

Riku felt a chill crawl down his spine. "You're saying there are more like it."

"I'm saying if Shinonome wakes up," Takeda said grimly, "the others will too."

A heavy silence settled over them. Even the wind seemed to stop.

Finally, Riku spoke. "You know how to stop it?"

Takeda hesitated. "Maybe. But I can't do it alone."

"Lucky for you," Ichika said, slinging her rifle, "we're idiots who love impossible jobs."

Suzune shot her a look. "We don't even know if he's telling the truth."

"Then we find out," Riku said. "If what he's saying is real, we can't ignore it."

Takeda nodded. "There's a relay station east of here—old military comms hub. If we can access it, we might be able to trace the other sites. But the roads are gone. We'll need to go through the valley."

"Through the dead zone," Suzune said flatly.

He met her eyes. "Yeah. Through there."

They left the service station an hour later, fuel tanks half-filled and nerves stretched thin. The air had warmed slightly, mist rising from the snow like breath from a sleeping beast. The forest thickened as they followed the cracked road east, branches arching overhead.

Takeda sat in the passenger seat now, giving directions. "The old relay's near Mount Akeno. Underground, reinforced. If it's still got power, we can patch in."

Suzune kept her rifle on her lap, eyes never leaving him. "And if it doesn't?"

"Then we die tired," Ichika said from the back.

The man managed a weak laugh. "You've got good soldiers."

"We're not soldiers," Riku said. "Not anymore."

As the day dragged on, the forest grew darker. The fog thickened, curling between the trees like smoke. Birds no longer sang here—nothing did.

When the road finally gave way to broken concrete, Riku stopped the truck. "We walk from here."

They armed up and moved out, stepping carefully through the ruins of what once might have been a rest camp. Collapsed tents and burned-out vehicles lined the path.

Takeda pointed ahead. "Relay's half a klick that way. But stay quiet—the valley's not empty."

"What do you mean?" Suzune asked.

Before he could answer, a low howl rolled through the fog. It wasn't the shriek of the infected—it was deeper, rougher, like metal grinding against bone.

Everyone froze.

Ichika whispered, "You've gotta be kidding me…"

Then came movement. Shapes emerging between the trees—shambling, unsteady, but fast. Their skin was pale and veined with black lines, their limbs twitching with unnatural strength. Some bore the same metallic implants they'd seen in the dam.

"Run!" Riku shouted.

Gunfire cracked through the forest. The first creature fell, then two more, but they kept coming—dozens of them, moving in jerks and spasms.

Riku fired until his rifle clicked empty, then switched to his sidearm. "Keep moving! Toward the relay!"

Suzune grabbed Hana and Yui, pushing them ahead. Emi fired over her shoulder, shouting for Ren to stay low. Ichika tossed a smoke grenade, covering their retreat in a thick white cloud.

They broke through the tree line and stumbled into a clearing. Ahead, half-buried in the earth, stood a concrete structure—an entrance hatch marked with the faded emblem of the Japan Self-Defense Forces.

Takeda sprinted ahead, slamming a code into the keypad. "Come on, come on—"

The door clicked and hissed open.

"Inside!" Riku yelled.

They poured in, one after another. The door sealed behind them with a thunderous clang. The muffled howls of the infected faded outside.

Everyone stood in the dim corridor, panting, steam rising from their clothes.

Ichika leaned against the wall, reloading. "Remind me again why we never find nice places?"

Suzune ignored her, turning to Takeda. "You said this place still had power."

"It should," he said, moving toward the control console at the far end of the hall. He flipped a breaker. Sparks leapt, and the overhead lights flickered weakly to life.

Rows of dusty terminals came online, screens booting one by one. The air smelled of ozone and dust.

Riku stepped beside him. "Find the network."

Takeda typed rapidly, his fingers trembling. Lines of code scrolled across the main screen. "It's still here—data hub's partially intact. If I can reroute the signal…"

A chime interrupted him.

The display flashed red.

REMOTE CONNECTION DETECTED.SHINONOME CORE ONLINE.

Riku's stomach dropped. "No…"

Suzune frowned. "It's linking to the dam."

Takeda's hands flew over the keyboard. "It's reactivating the other sites!"

"Can you stop it?"

"I—I'm trying!"

The lights dimmed, then surged back on brighter than before. A low hum filled the corridor—the same vibration they'd heard beneath the dam, pulsing through the concrete like a heartbeat.

Riku grabbed Takeda by the shoulder. "Shut it down!"

"I can't!" he shouted. "It's not just power—it's transmitting a signal!"

"Then kill the power!"

Takeda slammed his fist against the switchboard. Sparks burst. The lights flickered, then steadied.

For a moment, everything went still.

Then a voice came through the speakers—calm, synthetic, and horribly human.

"Project Harbor reinitialization complete."

The group stared at the console.

"Phase IV protocol authorized. Site synchronization in progress."

Ichika's voice cracked. "What the hell does that mean?"

Takeda's face went pale. "It means Shinonome wasn't the end. It was the beginning."

Riku's jaw clenched. "Then we stop it before the rest wake up."

He loaded a fresh magazine into his rifle, the metallic click echoing through the corridor. "We're going back to the dam."

Suzune met his gaze. "Then we end this—for good."

Behind them, the terminal continued to beep, connecting one by one to distant signals buried across Japan.

And somewhere far to the west, six more lights blinked to life—each one humming with the same mechanical pulse.