Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse

Day 27 – 06:00 AM, MOA Complex – Strategic Command Hall

The early morning air in the Strategic Command Hall buzzed with restrained urgency. Maps of the Middle East flickered on the central screen—Baghdad, Tehran, Amman, and at the center of it all, a pulsing red zone: Damascus.

Thomas Estaris stood in front of the command table, arms crossed, jaw tight. The screen showed overlapping thermal scans and drone footage—black tendrils of biomass coiled through the ancient Syrian capital like veins choking a dying body. The once-proud city was gone, swallowed by something far worse than war.

"Five confirmed Bloom Clusters feeding off Damascus proper," Rebecca reported, her voice steady despite the horror on display. "Main mass is centered around what used to be Marjeh Square. Satellite composites from early recon showed structural movement—massive heaving patterns, as if the ground was breathing."

Casimiro leaned in. "No central spire?"

"Negative," Rebecca said. "This one's flat. Spread low. Like a carpet of muscle and nerve. It's not defending—it's expanding."

Thomas nodded. "Then this isn't a fortress. It's a staging ground."

Colonel Sison stepped forward, pulling up a secondary scan. "We also tracked something new. Radiological signatures within the nest's core—naturally occurring isotopes, likely from scavenged hospital and industrial waste. It's embedding hazardous material into the biomass."

"They're making themselves toxic," Rebecca muttered.

"Worse," Thomas said. "They're preparing for retaliation. They know we're coming."

Silence fell over the room.

Casimiro broke it. "Any remaining human enclaves?"

"None," Rebecca confirmed. "Local radio silence for six months. Last drone pass detected no heat signatures beyond the biomass. Damascus is dead."

Thomas stepped forward and tapped the red pulsing core on the screen.

"Then we treat it like a tumor. We burn it out."

Day 27 – 09:15 AM, MOA Complex – Briefing Room Delta

A select group of officers gathered as Thomas stood before a tactical display. "This is Operation Firebreak," he began. "We're deploying two MIRV-class cruise missiles—each carrying three 10-kiloton warheads. One will be launched from the Indian Ocean via naval platform Horizon's Edge. The second from our southern Iran desert installation—Sundown Base."

He pointed to Damascus's coordinates.

"The goal is total elimination of all biomass within a 12-kilometer radius. Blast patterns will be overlaid to create overlapping zones of devastation."

A murmur swept the room. MIRVs hadn't been used since the earliest days of the apocalypse—deemed overkill. But Damascus warranted it.

Rebecca raised a hand. "What's the timeline?"

"Launch window is in six hours. We need precision, not speed. We're calculating wind patterns and seismic feedback to avoid triggering aftershocks into Lebanon or Jordan."

"And fallout?" Sison asked.

"Contained," Casimiro replied. "Thermal updrafts and prevailing winds will keep it in the Dead Zone corridor. We'll seal all monitoring outposts within a 300-kilometer range."

Thomas turned to the operators. "We do this clean. We do this right. No mistakes."

Day 27 – 15:30 PM, Naval Cruiser Horizon's Edge – Northern Indian Ocean

The sea was calm—deceptively serene—as the deck crew prepared the launch cradle. Engineers in radiation-hardened suits ran final diagnostics on the MIRV payload. Inside the control bay, the operator keyed into Overwatch Command.

"Firebreak Primary loaded. Guidance systems green. All systems nominal."

Thomas's voice echoed from the line. "Authorization granted. On my command."

He paused. Then: "Execute."

A low rumble preceded the missile's roar. It surged from the deck like a thunderbolt, climbing past the clouds, trailing fire and thunder.

Simultaneously, in the scorched plains of southern Iran, the second missile launched from Sundown Base—ripping skyward with deadly intent.

Day 27 – 15:46 PM, Damascus – Bloom Nest Core

The city once known for its ancient stone and holy relics was no more. Now it pulsed like a diseased heart. Bone-like spires twisted out of mosques, tendrils of sinew stretched over broken highways. At the epicenter, a mound of chitin and flesh quivered like a monstrous egg waiting to burst.

Above, the sky split.

The first MIRV deployed mid-air, splitting into three sub-warheads. Moments later, the second followed.

The explosions came not as one, but as six staggered titans. Each blast blossomed into pure annihilation—orange fireballs rolling into the heavens, shockwaves flattening anything that dared remain upright.

The Bloom Cluster never even twitched.

It didn't scream.

It didn't fight.

It simply ceased.

Glass turned to sand. Concrete vaporized. Flesh was reduced to vapor. What had once been a city was now a basin of ash and silence.

Day 27 – 18:30 PM, MOA Complex – Observation Deck

Thomas watched the screens as infrared overlays confirmed total saturation. The heat map displayed an absolute burn-through of the biomass. There were no energy spikes. No mutational signatures. No regrowth.

Rebecca approached slowly.

"It's done."

He nodded, expression grim.

"Three thousand years of history. Gone."

Rebecca didn't respond.

He turned toward her. "You know what scares me more than the loss of a city?"

She looked up.

"That I feel nothing anymore when we erase one."

Day 50 – 06:00 AM, Airspace over Syria – Raven Team Recon Drone Feed

The first visuals streamed in: a black pit where Damascus once stood. Thermal sensors showed residual heat. Radiation levels were high, but already decaying faster than anticipated.

Phillip's voice came in over the command line. "Raven confirms zero movement. Dead zone is cold. Impact depth—seventeen meters. Crater spans 11.6 kilometers."

"Any signs of secondary clusters?" Thomas asked.

"Negative. If there were other nodes… they're gone."

Casimiro added from another console, "We'll set up a long-term monitoring station near the Lebanese border. Drone sentries will patrol every 12 hours. If anything stirs, we'll know."

Rebecca watched the hollow on the screen.

"This is the future, isn't it?"

Thomas didn't answer.

Day 50 – 14:30 PM, MOA Complex – Command Quarters

Thomas sat alone in his quarters, the lights dimmed. On his desk lay maps of the world—dozens of red splotches. Most were gone. Some, recently. A few still glowed.

Moscow.

New Delhi.

Cairo.

He circled the next target.

His pen hovered above it.

Then, with a heavy hand, he drew a thick black line through the heart of Riyadh.

Another city.

Another firebreak.

But no celebration.

Only subtraction.

Day 50 – 16:00 PM, MOA Complex – Lower Hangar Bay

The blast doors slid open with a low mechanical whine as Phillip descended into the lower hangar, his boots echoing on the grated steel. A squad of armored troopers stood beside Raven One—an unmarked Black Hawk retrofitted for radiation-survivable reconnaissance. The cockpit was sealed, the armor double-layered, and the exterior plated with ceramic shielding.

Thomas's voice echoed from the intercom above. "You don't need to do this yourself."

Phillip glanced toward the nearest camera. "Yes, I do."

He climbed aboard, strapping himself into the seat as two recon specialists followed behind him, securing their gear in silence. The rotor engines rumbled to life.

In a matter of minutes, Raven One lifted off the MOA Complex tarmac and angled westward, slicing through the afternoon sky toward the Middle East.

Day 50 – 21:00 PM, Airspace over Syria – Above the Damascus Crater

The helicopter's cabin was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the green tint of their helmet HUDs and the blinking console lights. As they approached ground zero, a dense haze shimmered below—still laced with radiation, ash, and charred soil.

Phillip peered out the reinforced viewport.

What used to be Damascus was gone. Entire districts erased. Mosques, museums, skyscrapers—all reduced to a scorched crater of molten stone and shattered time.

"Taking us lower," the pilot said. "Final pass before curfew window."

The helicopter dipped slightly, hovering along the eastern rim of the crater. Phillip activated the external scanner system, a sensor pod mounted to the underside of the aircraft. Heat levels—stable. Radiation—contained. Spore activity—none.

Then something flickered on the motion radar. A shadow.

"Pause," Phillip said. "Freeze cam."

They ran a reverse feed, zooming into the anomaly.

It was nothing. A chunk of metal caught in the heat shimmer. A remnant of a comms tower—bent, blackened, and broken in half.

False alarm.

Phillip exhaled and keyed into command.

"This is Raven One. Final sweep complete. All sectors cold. Crater integrity stable. Biomass: zero."

Thomas's voice came over the encrypted line, low but clear. "Copy that, Raven. You have permission to return."

But Phillip didn't move.

Not yet.

He stared out at the void below—what had once been a city, now reduced to geological memory. He imagined how it must have looked before all this. How people walked those streets. Raised their families. Prayed. Fought. Built. Laughed.

And now…?

It was just another pit in the earth. Another dark scar on a dying world.

"Sir," said one of the troopers behind him, "You alright?"

Phillip didn't respond immediately. When he did, his voice was steady.

"Yeah. Just… counting the cost."

Day 50 – 05:00 AM, MOA Complex – Chapel of Remembrance

The sun had not yet risen. But the chapel was already lit—faint candlelight glimmering on the stained glass. The walls were lined with names—etched into black metal, one plate for each confirmed lost city. Manila. Jakarta. Tokyo. Berlin. Lagos. Hanoi.

Now, Damascus.

Phillip stepped inside, removing his gloves. He approached the wall slowly, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a small metal tag—part of the helicopter wreckage recovered from an early Overwatch recon mission in Syria. He placed it beneath the plaque for Damascus, locking it in with two tiny screws.