Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 135: Phase Two

Three more UH-60s thundered into the Bataan skyline, black shapes against the moonlight, formation tight and precise. Their rotors kicked up clouds of ash and debris as they descended onto pre-designated landing zones cleared by Shadow Team. The moment skids hit earth, Overwatch reinforcements poured out in disciplined waves—tactical boots striking the ground in unison.

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They came with mobile command kits, biometric scanners, portable containment tents, sealed crates of rations, medical supplies, and clean uniforms. None spoke beyond what was necessary. There were no wasted movements.

This was Phase Two.

And Overwatch never half-measured a lockdown.

Phillip met the first team at the courtyard—Alpha-5 Unit, twelve men and women with black visors and gray armbands marked INTEL & INTERROGATION. Their lead, a woman in sleek ceramic armor with a reinforced tablet strapped to her chest, saluted crisply.

"Vera Andrade, Internal Affairs. Phase Two lockdown now in effect across all sectors. We're establishing quarantine boundaries and command screening posts. Civilians first. Officers second. We'll be deploying neural index scans and med-checks as per Article 9-B of the Biohazard Containment Protocol."

Phillip nodded. "You've got clearance to run this your way. Shadow Team will provide security during processing. Anyone flags red, I want to know before they so much as breathe wrong."

"Copy that." She turned, gesturing to her team. "Begin setup! Secure the perimeter! All survivors to the west hangar—process them by groups of five!"

Shadow 2 and 3 started herding the shaken survivors into lines. Medics followed behind, tagging arms with numbered bands and logging names into encrypted Overwatch systems. Drones hovered silently overhead, relaying thermal and movement data back to MOA HQ in real time.

**

Meanwhile—

MOA Complex, Containment Block D2

The mood was different here.

Tighter.

Colder.

Inside a sealed facility beneath the K Line Maritime Academy Philippines, every survivor who had been airlifted out of Bataan earlier now sat under bright surgical lights in a repurposed screening center. The walls were white. The tables metallic. The cameras tracked every blink and twitch.

No windows.

No escape.

De Vera sat on a steel chair, arms crossed, still wearing a sling from a shrapnel graze. Across from him, a man in a black coat with no visible rank pored over a report silently. On the wall, a screen played drone footage from the earlier Reaper strikes—loops of explosions, heat signatures disintegrating in flame.

"This isn't standard debriefing," De Vera said quietly.

The man didn't respond right away. Then he looked up.

"You lost 70% of your base personnel in under four hours. Your gates were opened from the inside. The infected were already within the walls before the breach was reported. Ritual symbols. Dead radio channels. Coordinated movement patterns. And your own personnel confirm strange behavior from multiple survivors prior to the attack."

De Vera held his ground. "I ran my post by the book."

"I'm sure you did," the man replied. "But books don't survive fires. We're not here to prosecute. We're here to isolate threats before they make it to Manila."

The lights above flickered once. Another camera pivoted.

Then a voice came over the intercom.

"Containment Zone Delta—initiate neural scan sweep. No one leaves unless cleared by central authority."

One floor below, survivors huddled in rows of chairs while Overwatch medics in hazmat suits ran bio-scanners along their skulls and necks. Portable blood centrifuges spun in sealed canisters. Some were pulled aside for secondary questioning. Others cried. A few simply stared ahead, silent and vacant.

A young Overwatch tech reviewed a data slate and blinked.

"Sir… we've got anomalies."

The commanding officer stepped over. "Show me."

"Three of the survivors from Bataan—faint neurological distortion in the anterior cortex. Not enough for classification, but way outside normal stress markers."

"Tag them. Isolation cell. Interview priority."

"Yes, sir."

Back in Bataan.

Shadow 4 escorted a small group of technicians to a mobile field tent where Andrade stood typing into her encrypted pad.

"We've completed the first 47 names," she said. "Cross-referencing personnel records with pre-breach behavior reports. One anomaly—an engineer listed as 'absent from duty' during the night of the breach showed up unharmed at the evacuation point. No wounds. No alibi."

Phillip walked up as she spoke.

"Name?"

"Rico Nolasco. Civilian contractor. Assigned to north perimeter maintenance."

Phillip nodded to Shadow 4. "Bring him to the tent."

Ten minutes later, Nolasco was sitting under an LED floodlight, fidgeting with his shirt hem.

"I—I don't know anything, sir. I was hiding. I got scared and—"

Phillip leaned in. "You were assigned to Gate 5. The first point to go dark. You were off-duty but left no check-in logs. Your biometric tracker was offline for three hours. Why?"

Nolasco swallowed hard. "My watch… broke in the blast. I swear."

"Before or after the breach?"

No answer.

Phillip stared. "We're going to find out if you were part of this, Rico. You can talk now… or we'll find out through your blood, your memories, and the things we pull out of your old comms."

The engineer's legs trembled.

Phillip stepped back. "Separate him. Shadow 2, escort him to Isolation Zone B."

"On it."

"I don't think that's him," Andrade said.

"Me too. Still, can't be too careful in this days," Phillip nodded.

Phillip stood over a digital map of the compound projected on a folding table. Red blips marked cleared sectors. Yellow marked pending sweeps. Blue signaled confirmed survivors under surveillance.

The hangars were full. The base was in full lockdown.

But beneath it all… something still felt wrong.

He tapped his comms.

"Shadow Actual to Overwatch. Phase Two in full effect. Civilian processing underway. At least ten flagged for enhanced interrogation."

"Copy that, Shadow Actual," came the reply. "Stand by for Phase Three authorization pending decryption of recovered data logs."

Phillip nodded.

Then, quietly to himself:

"Let's see who really lit the match."

***

Meanwhile—the infiltrators of the Crimson Dawn were being held by the Overwatch team and are in the holding area for enhanced interrogation, they were flagged as they were new members of the camp just days before the sabotage.

"Are we going to get find out?"

"Remember what the Waker said to us, we blend in."