Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse

Chapter 201: Taking a Tour

November 12, 2025 – 1:43 PM

Somewhere Over Western Luzon – Aboard Valkyrie One

The sky stretched endlessly ahead, painted in soft hues of pale blue and streaks of thin white cloud. At 31,000 feet, the world below seemed quiet. Still. And for the first time in a long time, Thomas Estaris found himself without the hum of chatter in his ear, without gunfire in the distance, without orders barked over radios. There was only the steady thrum of four massive turbofan engines, the glow of his cockpit display, and the dark, sprawling land far below.

Valkyrie One was in cruise. Smooth. Stable.

Everything that Thomas had asked for.

He sat in the pilot's seat, relaxed but focused, both hands on the yoke. His helmet rested in the seat beside him. He didn't need it now. Just the old-fashioned headset and the weight of silence.

The landscape below—flattened cities, skeletons of highways, forests overtaking suburbs—rolled slowly beneath them like a broken diorama of a world long gone. Even from this altitude, he could pick out former towns swallowed by nature and rust, their concrete outlines barely distinguishable from the jungle's march.

The autopilot chimed. He glanced at the HUD. They were approaching the western spine of Luzon—Zambales, mostly hills and cliffs, ridges dotted with collapsed radio towers and transmission lines that hadn't buzzed in over a year.

Thomas keyed in a slight heading correction and banked gently to the south.

No turbulence. No weather interference. Just clean air.

In the co-pilot seat, a female summoned named Madel, stared out through the canopy glass, her hands folded in her lap.

"No movement on surface scans," she said softly. "No heat blooms either. Just wild growth. You seeing this?"

Thomas nodded. "I am."

Below, the crumbling outline of the old civilian airstrip was barely visible—half-swallowed by overgrowth, rusted out aircraft shells scattered around it like forgotten toys.

"You think there's anyone left down there?" she asked.

Thomas didn't answer right away. He reached for the binocular scope mounted near his seat and brought it to his eyes.

A slow pan revealed green hills, quiet villages overrun by time, rice paddies turned into marshes. Some rooftops were still intact. Some even bore makeshift paint—bright tarps, plastic sheeting, symbols he couldn't read. Signs of life, maybe. But no movement. No vehicles. No smoke. Just wind.

"No one we could help by dropping in blind," he finally said. "And not with this bird."

Madel nodded. "Fair."

They passed over Botolan, the remnants of a coastal community once bustling with fishing boats and tourism. From above, the beachfront looked quiet—too quiet. A handful of boats lay capsized near the shoreline, others left tied to broken piers, covered in seaweed and rot.

"There," Madel said, pointing. "That building… could've been a hotel once."

The roof had collapsed in on itself. A swimming pool sat half-full with algae and rainwater. Palm trees leaned against its facade, pushing windows inward.

"Looks like the apocalypse was generous with the ocean views," Thomas muttered.

Madel chuckled lightly. "Morbid."

"Practical," he replied. "We're seeing what the world looks like when it's not screaming."

He tapped into the system interface and brought up the terrain scanner feed. Red and orange overlays marked thermal readings, population density estimates, motion trails. All of it was ghost data—nothing real-time. The scanners barely registered anything larger than a stray deer.

"Zombies don't come this far inland unless they're pushed," Thomas said. "No herds. No scent trails. No flares. Either the people here fled long ago… or there was nothing to hold them together."

Madel frowned, turning her eyes to the window again. "You ever wonder if we're just lucky? That we survived by accident?"

Thomas didn't speak for a while. He watched the earth move beneath them. The soft curve of the land. The gentle rise and fall of ridges that once held cell towers. Burnt tree lines from past wildfire outbreaks.

"We sure are in luck because some omnipotence had granted me abilities to summon you and military hardware. It seems as though I was blessed with this skill to reclaim what belonged to humanity."

He adjusted the yoke slightly, easing the plane into a wide southern arc. The coastline appeared ahead—Subic Bay glimmering under the afternoon sun.

Madel leaned closer. "That's the docks, right?"

Thomas nodded. "Subic Naval Port. What's left of it."

From above, it still resembled its old self. Long piers stretching out like fingers into the sea. A couple of ships rusting in place. One of them—a small destroyer—was listing heavily to port, half-submerged.

The base buildings were collapsed in places, gutted by either fire or siege. Barricades formed crude lines around the perimeter, but none looked recently manned. Even the boats near the beach were dry-docked, vines growing over their hulls.

"I don't think anyone's been here in months," Madel said quietly.

"Maybe longer," Thomas added. "Reaper scans were inconclusive. We never prioritized it."

He marked the site on his datapad.

"I will now."

They continued on, hugging the coastline for another twenty kilometers before banking east toward the mountains.

Here, the air changed slightly. Less coastal humidity. The skies cleared even more.

Madel ran a systems check. "Fuel status: optimal. Burn rate lower than spec. We could push her all the way to Taiwan and back if we wanted."

"Not yet," Thomas said. "We start with what we can hold. Then we reach."

He stared out the canopy glass as they passed over the highlands—green hills folding into one another like waves. No signs of nests. No scorched earth. Just untouched terrain.

The kind of land they could take back.

"Agro's secure," Thomas said aloud, mostly to himself. "But Luzon isn't enough. Not anymore. We don't just fortify the last stand. We take the first step forward."

Madel tilted her head. "We really going to start flying international again?"

Thomas's jaw clenched slightly.

"If there's anyone left across the sea," he said, "they need to know they're not alone."

The KC-135 turned slowly back toward the south.

Beneath them, the sun cast long shadows across the land—shadows of towers toppled, cities reclaimed by vines, and valleys where silence ruled.

But from above, in that sky-carving behemoth of steel and resolve, Thomas saw something more.

Lines. Routes. Corridors. Paths forward.

The world had gone dark.

But today?

Overwatch turned the lights back on—at least for a few hours.

And soon, the rest of the world would know they were coming.