Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse

January 16, 2026 — 8:17 AM

Above Laguna Province — Operation Sunfire, Phase Two

The Goliath's roar didn't carry through microphones—it ruptured them.

Reaper One-Three's feed burst into static for three seconds before re-stabilizing, revealing the monstrous figure emerging from the jungle east of Los Baños. Trees collapsed beneath its massive, root-covered feet. Its chest was a cavity of pulsating red sinew, and from its shoulders extended fleshy tendrils that whipped violently with each step. Standing nearly ten stories tall, it towered over the landscape like an ancient god reawakened.

Thomas Estaris leaned closer to the command screen inside the MOA Complex's Operations Room. The digital map showed the creature's slow advance—deliberate, unstoppable.

"We have a Goliath-class on the field," Phillip said into the command net. "All air units: initiate staggered bombardment pattern. Do not engage directly. Maintain altitude advantage. Spooky One, you're up first."

"Affirmative, Command," the AC-130 gunship's pilot replied. "Spooling up the 105. Target painted."

High above the battle, Spooky One adjusted its orbit and trained its cannon. A targeting laser, invisible to the naked eye, locked onto the Goliath's core.

Then—BOOM.

The 105mm howitzer shell punched into the Goliath's chest, erupting in a bright flash. For a second, the beast staggered.

"Hit confirmed," the gunship operator called.

But it didn't fall.

Instead, the Goliath shrieked—an unholy, thunderous cry—and slammed both of its arms into the ground. The earth buckled. A shockwave rippled out from the impact site, sending debris—and infected—flying in all directions.

"Woah—turbulence!" Sandoval called out. His A-10 rattled as the blast of force slammed into it. "Goliath's got seismic capability!"

Below, Reapers began flocking to the Goliath, swarming around its limbs like insects. A defensive screen. Then, horrifyingly, the Bloom tendrils from the surrounding nests began slithering toward it—fusing into its frame.

"It's absorbing biomass," Phillip reported grimly. "It's... evolving."

"Maintain pressure!" Thomas ordered. "We lose this sector, we lose all of South Luzon."

"Viper-One, Fox Three!" Rivera shouted.

His F-16 loosed two more JDAMs from altitude, the bombs screaming downward toward the base of the Goliath. They struck dead-on, kicking up a twin set of eruptions that blanketed the target in fire.

"No visual confirmation," Rivera radioed in. "Smoke obscuring target."

Spooky One swept back around, its IR camera cutting through the smoke—revealing the Goliath still standing. Wounded, burning in parts, but alive.

"Not enough," Phillip muttered. "We need to pull back. We don't have the firepower for this."

"No," Thomas said firmly. "We're buying time. The more damage we inflict now, the longer it takes this thing to reach Tagaytay Ridge."

Crack.

Suddenly, Reaper One-One's feed cut out—its signal lost as a Reaper-type Bloomspawn collided with it mid-air. The drone spiraled into the forest canopy.

"Reaper One-One is down," a tech confirmed in the Ops Center.

"Shit," Phillip muttered.

The Goliath raised one of its arms and flung a burning chunk of a destroyed truck into the air.

It arced up—too high, too fast—heading straight for Spooky One.

"Evasive maneuver!" the AC-130 pilot yelled.

Too late.

The flaming projectile smashed through the gunship's starboard wing. One of the engines tore free, spiraling behind it in a plume of smoke and flame.

"We're hit! Losing control!"

"Command, Spooky One is going down!" the co-pilot shouted.

Inside the MOA Complex, every screen went red. An entire corner of the map flashed: AC-130 DOWN — LAST TELEMETRY LOCKED.

"Jesus," one of the younger techs whispered.

Thomas's jaw tightened. "Get a QRF ready for crash recovery."

Phillip turned. "We pulling out?"

Thomas was quiet for a second. Then nodded once.

"Relay the order."

8:21 AM — Laguna Airspace"Evac and Extraction Protocol: Sunfire Phase Two"

"Viper Squadron, fall back to rally point Delta-Five. Vulture Squadron, begin rear cover. Burn what you can on the way out."

Captain Rivera pulled hard on the stick, banking his F-16 sharply as a Reaper clawed at his wingtip. "Roger, command. Viper-One disengaging."

"Copy that," Sandoval added. "Vultures providing rear suppress."

The remaining A-10s turned slow circles over the battlefield, unleashing their final payloads. AGM-65s slammed into rising Bloom growths. 30mm rounds pounded the creatures surging from the nests.

One Warthog trailed smoke as it limped skyward.

"We're hit! Losing pressure in engine one!"

"Get altitude. Don't try to be a hero," Sandoval barked. "We've done our part."

On the ground, the Goliath bellowed once more, ripping free a slab of earth and hurling it into the jungle. The remaining nests quivered, then detonated of their own accord, releasing spores into the sky—black clouds that drifted like poison.

"Bloom spores in the air!" Phillip called. "Seal all cockpit vents. Ascent vectors now!"

The fighters broke upward, afterburners blazing as they punched through the infected air. Behind them, the sky above Laguna burned with the glow of explosions, tracer fire, and plumes of rising smoke.

The AC-130, its wreckage now aflame in a rice field near Victoria, was marked for immediate drone survey. There'd be no rescue just yet—not while the Goliath still stood.

Inside the command center, Thomas exhaled through his nose.

"We didn't win," Marcus said beside him, arms crossed.

"No," Thomas replied. "But we didn't lose, either. Not yet."

8:49 AM — MOA Complex, Hangar 3

The F-16s screamed in one by one, tires screeching against the reinforced tarmac. The A-10s followed, battered, scorched, but still in one piece. Ground crews rushed in with refueling hoses and medics.

Rivera popped his canopy and slumped back, drenched in sweat.

"We're back," he radioed. "But it's coming. That thing... it's coming."

Thomas stood just outside the debrief room, listening to the static fade.

He looked to Phillip.

"Prep the heavy SAMs. If the Goliath moves north again... I want it erased."

Phillip nodded, silent.

Thomas turned, headed for the elevator.

Behind him, the hangar buzzed with shouted orders, the clatter of tools, and the hiss of coolant lines. But in his ears, there was only silence—pregnant with dread.

He didn't need confirmation.

Laguna was lost.

The real war was about to begin.