Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 228: Brimming with Anticipation

December 17, 2025 — 10:14 AM

Ilocos Sur – Recon Ingress Zone, Northern Sector

The whir of Reaper One-Nine's rotors barely registered against the soundproofed interior of the command trailer, but its live footage fed directly to Thomas's console. He sat with elbows on the edge of the desk, chin in one hand, eyes trained on the thermal and visual overlays.

The drone hovered over Vigan—once a UNESCO heritage city, now a collapsed husk of colonial architecture and rot-claimed stone roads. Bloom growths festered in alleyways. Market stalls sat untouched. Bones cluttered sidewalks. Every few seconds, something would shift—something not human.

The horde here wasn't moving. But it was there.

"Cluster estimate?" Thomas asked without looking up.

"1,050 to 1,300," replied the recon officer. "More if the basements are packed. Thermal signatures suggest subterranean movement."

Thomas exhaled through his nose. "Alright. This one's going to be tricky."

He opened the map. The narrow streets and dense layout meant standard JDAMs would be overkill—too much collateral, not enough precision. He needed something tighter.

"Tell the Warthogs to hang back. We're going to lead with the Vipers. Use SDBs—smart diameter bombs. Paint the roof tiles, stagger drops between buildings. Then we'll bring in Spooky One for surgical sweeps."

Marcus looked up from the secondary console. "We want to preserve the shell structures?"

"For now," Thomas said. "If this works out, we might reuse the foundations. Maybe even rebuild the northern road corridors."

A tech handed him a tablet—finalized targeting data and projected wind patterns.

"Do it," Thomas confirmed.

At 10:39 AM, the first F-16 swooped low from the east, silent as a ghost until its afterburners flashed in the distance. It released three smart munitions—each one gliding mid-air before steering itself down between the narrow corridors of ruined stone buildings.

Precision kills.

The zombies never even looked up.

Seconds later, the AC-130 rumbled into position. Its 30mm autocannons fired in controlled bursts—clearing main road junctions and Bloom growths near municipal structures.

Then came the howitzer.

Thomas leaned forward as the 105mm shell dropped into the city square. The blast flattened the Bloom core feeding into the southern half of the horde.

Flames rose. The square became an inferno of tumbling infected.

Another pass.

Spooky One wheeled wide, rotated to the right side gun crew, and raked fire along the museum district's main hall. Bricks collapsed. Bodies burned.

"Visuals confirm," one of the gunners said. "Main core ruptured. Bloom structures down."

"Begin clean-up," Thomas ordered. "Circle back and clear remnants."

Blood Coin tally ticked upward.

Ilocos Sur: +68,000 confirmed kills.

Total Blood Coin revenue for the day: 3,400,000

It was staggering.

And yet, Thomas didn't celebrate.

Not yet.

12:30 PM — Command Trailer, MOA Complex

Lunch came and went in the form of a ration bar and another cup of black coffee. The air inside the trailer had warmed with the number of crew now on rotation—pilots coming in and out, operations officers swapping shifts, drone techs reviewing targeting footage.

Thomas stood, arms crossed, as the updated operations map projected onto the center table.

Northern Luzon was blinking yellow—zones in review. Pampanga and Tarlac were already listed green. Cleared.

"Reaper scan just confirmed a mega-cluster north of San Jose," Marcus said, stepping up beside him. "Old housing development near a rice granary. You're going to love the numbers."

"How many?" Thomas asked.

"Best guess? Somewhere between 9,000 to 11,000 infected. That's not counting the ones hiding underground."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "That's almost half a million Blood Coins in one run."

Marcus nodded. "And we've got enough fuel for two full shifts left."

"Then we go in hard," Thomas said. "I want the Vipers, Warthogs, and both gunships in rotation. We are going to bleed this region dry."

He turned to the crew.

"Rotate out the Vipers after their first strike. Let them refuel and rearm with bunker busters. Warthogs cover the road exits. AC-130s sweep Bloom clusters. Use incendiaries on anything with color. Priority target: anything that pulses or glows."

The team nodded.

He stepped back toward his seat but stopped short.

"Also," he said, voice low but firm, "mark the terrain east of San Jose. That's where I want our first naval depot. We're going to need a place to anchor the frigate when it arrives."

Marcus gave him a look. "You're really going through with that?"

Thomas nodded once. "It's not a campaign if we can't hold what we clean. And we're not building another outpost without a fleet to back it."

2:47 PM — San Jose Corridor

The drone footage was hard to watch—but satisfying.

The infected near the granary complex had been dormant for months. Thousands packed into tight corridors between rice silos and gutted bunkhouses. It was an ecosystem of death—and perfect for an aerial kill zone.

The F-16s came first—bombing runs with 500-pound bunker busters dropped into the silos themselves. Bloom gas vented like smoke from ruptured wounds. Infected burst out, confused and staggering into open roads.

Then came the Warthogs.

Low and relentless.

BRRRRT.

Whole lines of infected were shredded like tissue paper. The GAU-8s fired until the air shimmered with smoke and lead.

Spooky One finished the job—howitzers first, then the 40mm autocannons to sweep the remaining crawlers trying to escape into nearby trees.

By the end of the hour, the entire compound was smoldering wreckage.

Kill confirmed: 11,462.

Thomas barely blinked.

4:30 PM — Mobile Command Trailer, MOA Complex

The map had turned mostly green.

From morning until now, Overwatch air forces had conducted 31 sorties, cleared eight major zombie nests, and brought in a staggering total of 1,463,900 Blood Coins.

Enough to fund Project Blue Wake.

And then some.

Thomas tapped his wrist console, opened the procurement queue, and added more naval assets.

1x FREMM Frigate

1x Virginia Class Submarine

1x Ticonderoga Class Cruiser

2x Sea Phantom II

1x Mobile Logistics Barge

"Do we rest tomorrow?" Marcus asked behind him.

Thomas shook his head.

"No. We are going to farm so that we can get more military hardware from the system. You know, summoning the ships is just one of our many future problems. We have maintenance and operational expenses for that."

"Understood."

Thomas exhaled.

"I can't wait to see my fleet."