Chapter 9 – Convoy Through Hell
The armored truck roared to life like an angry metal beast.
Kripa nearly lost his balance as the vehicle lurched forward, tires grinding over broken asphalt and something that sounded suspiciously like bones.
Inside the truck the air smelled like gun oil, sweat, and panic.
Metal benches ran along both sides of the vehicle. Six soldiers sat strapped in, rifles resting across their laps, helmets low over tired eyes. Red emergency lights flickered faintly from the ceiling, turning everything inside the truck into a dim war movie.
Kripa and Imran sat squeezed between two soldiers who looked like they hadn't slept in three days.
Outside, the engines of the other armored trucks thundered.
The convoy was moving.
Fast.
Imran leaned closer and whispered in Kripa's ear.
"Bro…"
Kripa sighed.
"Yes."
"We left home for petrol."
"Yes."
"And a toilet break."
"Yes."
"And now we're in a military convoy being chased by a zombie army."
Kripa nodded slowly.
"Correct."
Imran stared at the steel walls of the truck.
"This is the worst fucking road trip of my life."
Kripa shrugged.
"At least the bathroom situation improved."
Imran blinked.
"We literally fought zombies in a toilet."
"Exactly," Kripa said. "It can only get better from there."
One of the soldiers across from them snorted quietly.
Kripa noticed the man's rifle.
Black metal.
Long curved magazine.
AK platform.
The soldier checked the weapon automatically, fingers moving with practiced ease. He tapped the magazine, flicked the safety lever, and pulled the charging handle slightly before letting it snap forward.
Kripa watched every movement.
Carefully.
Imran noticed.
"Oh no."
Kripa kept staring at the rifle.
"What?"
"You're doing the look."
"What look?"
"The 'I'm about to learn something dangerous' look."
Kripa leaned slightly toward the soldier.
"That's an AK, right?"
The soldier glanced at him.
"AK-203."
Kripa nodded thoughtfully.
"Nice."
Imran whispered urgently.
"Why the hell are you studying guns right now?"
Kripa leaned back against the bench.
"Because five minutes ago I was fighting zombies with a belan."
He lifted his hands dramatically.
"For international reference," he added, "belan means rolling pin."
Imran blinked.
"You killed your wife with a rolling pin."
Kripa sighed.
"Technically she was already dead."
"Still counts."
Kripa looked at the soldier again.
"If the world has ended," he said calmly, "learning how to use one of those seems like a very useful life skill."
The soldier didn't respond, but Kripa noticed the faint hint of approval in his eyes.
The truck hit a pothole.
Everyone bounced slightly.
Outside, gunfire cracked somewhere in the distance.
Kripa leaned toward the narrow armored viewing slit beside him and peeked out.
What he saw made his stomach tighten.
The city had turned into hell.
Cars littered the street like abandoned toys.
Motorcycles lay scattered across the road.
Shops were smashed open.
Smoke drifted from burning buildings.
And zombies…
Everywhere.
A cluster of them surrounded a fallen scooter.
Kripa watched as they dragged a man off the seat.
The poor guy was still alive.
He kicked.
Screamed.
Begged.
It didn't matter.
The infected tore into him like starving animals.
Blood splashed across the pavement.
One zombie lifted something red and wet that Kripa didn't want to identify.
Imran leaned closer.
"What are you looking—"
Kripa immediately blocked the window with his hand.
"Don't."
Too late.
Imran caught a glimpse.
He recoiled instantly.
"Oh fuck that."
Kripa nodded.
"Correct reaction."
The truck sped past the scene.
But the horror didn't stop.
A woman ran down the street toward the convoy.
She waved her arms wildly.
"HELP!"
For a moment it looked like she might make it.
The convoy slowed slightly.
A soldier on the roof aimed his rifle outward, ready to provide cover.
Then something burst from an alley.
Three zombies slammed into the woman.
She disappeared beneath them instantly.
Her scream cut off mid-sound.
Imran covered his face.
"Nope. Nope. Nope."
Kripa quietly muttered toward the front of the truck.
"Drive faster."
The engines roared louder.
The convoy accelerated.
Inside the vehicle, a radio crackled.
"Convoy Alpha moving north."
Another voice responded.
"Sector Five lost. Repeat—Sector Five lost."
Static burst through the speaker.
Kripa frowned.
"Where are we going?"
One of the soldiers answered without looking up.
"Evacuation zone."
"Where?"
"City perimeter."
Kripa's expression changed instantly.
"City?"
The soldier nodded.
Kripa rubbed his face.
"Ah hell."
Imran looked confused.
"What?"
Kripa leaned forward.
"Cities are death traps in a disaster."
The soldiers glanced at him.
Kripa continued calmly.
"Think about it. High population density. Limited escape routes. Roads get blocked. Millions of people panic at once."
He gestured outside.
"Now imagine those millions turning into zombies."
Imran raised a finger.
"Also traffic."
Kripa nodded.
"Yes. Zombie traffic jams."
One soldier finally looked at him.
"Cities have hospitals. Supplies. Military bases."
Kripa shrugged.
"And millions of potential infected."
The soldier held his gaze for a moment.
Then nodded slightly.
"Fair point."
But the convoy kept moving toward the city anyway.
Orders were orders.
The truck turned onto the highway.
And things got worse.
Much worse.
The road looked like a graveyard of vehicles.
Cars jammed every lane.
Buses sat abandoned.
Motorcycles lay crushed under truck tires.
Bodies were everywhere.
Some moving.
Some not.
A soldier on the roof fired controlled bursts from his rifle.
Pop.
Pop.
Pop.
Zombies stumbling onto the highway collapsed one by one.
Imran stared through the slit.
"Holy shit."
A group of zombies tore apart a corpse beside a burning car.
Another cluster dragged someone out of a bus window.
The screaming echoed across the highway.
Imran swallowed.
"This looks like a zombie buffet."
Kripa nodded.
"And we're the dessert."
The truck suddenly slammed over something.
Everyone jolted.
A soldier's rifle slipped from his lap.
It tumbled toward the floor.
Kripa's hand shot out automatically.
He caught it before it hit the metal ground.
The entire truck went silent.
Six soldiers looked at him instantly.
Kripa froze.
Then calmly handed the rifle back.
"Sorry."
The soldier accepted it slowly.
"Thanks."
Kripa cleared his throat.
"Hypothetically speaking… if someone had to use one of those… how would they load it?"
The soldiers exchanged looks.
Finally the man with the rifle sighed.
"Magazine goes here."
He tapped the weapon.
"Insert. Pull the charging handle. Safety lever down."
Kripa nodded seriously.
"Got it."
Imran stared at him.
"You're taking notes in your brain, aren't you?"
Kripa nodded.
"Absolutely."
The radio suddenly exploded with static.
A voice shouted urgently.
"Scout vehicle to convoy! Road ahead blocked!"
The driver cursed.
The truck began slowing.
Another message came through.
"Large infected cluster ahead!"
Kripa leaned toward the rear viewing slit.
His stomach dropped.
The horde was still behind them.
Thousands of shapes moved along the highway.
A living tide of corpses.
Imran saw it too.
"…Kripa."
"Yes."
"We're in a zombie sandwich."
Kripa nodded grimly.
"And we're the filling."
The convoy slowed further.
Ahead of them the highway was completely jammed.
Crashed trucks.
Overturned cars.
A fuel tanker blocking two lanes.
No way through.
The convoy leader's voice shouted from outside.
"Everyone ready weapons!"
Rifles clicked.
Safety levers snapped down.
Soldiers checked magazines.
Kripa looked at Imran.
Imran whispered nervously.
"You still have that belan?"
Kripa sighed.
"I left it in the toilet."
Imran looked horrified.
"You abandoned our best weapon."
Kripa rubbed his temples.
"I think it's time we upgrade."
At that exact moment a soldier tossed something across the truck.
Kripa caught it instinctively.
It was heavier than the belan.
Much heavier.
An AK rifle.
Kripa stared at it.
Then looked up.
The soldier grinned slightly.
"Congratulations."
Kripa blinked.
"You're kidding."
The soldier shook his head.
"You're part of the convoy now."
Outside the truck…
The zombies were already climbing over the wrecked cars.
And they were coming straight for them.
"And this time…
he would have to pull the trigger."
"And Yes... things get much worse"
Author's Note
If you made it this far… you already know this story doesn't slow down from here.
The convoy doesn't stop.
The city gets worse.
And what Kripa faces next… makes everything so far look small.
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