Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 194: FAZ-1

November 6, 2025 – 0630 Hours

San Jose Agricultural Recovery Zone – Central Luzon

The ground shook.

Not from tremors or infected stampedes—but from the massive rotor wash of heavy-lift helicopters descending over the reclaimed fields of San Jose.

Thomas Estaris stood atop a makeshift observation platform—an elevated steel scaffold bolted onto the bed of a JLTV—watching the horizon thunder to life. Sunlight shimmered across the rising dust clouds as the first wave of transport choppers began touching down in sequence.

The first bird was a MH-53 Pave Low, its side doors already open mid-hover as its wheels kissed the dirt. Its matte black fuselage bore Overwatch insignia and sensor pods bristled from its nose and underbelly. Its twin rotors churned the air like a typhoon.

"Pave One has landed!" someone called over the field comms.

Right behind it came a Boeing CH-47 Chinook, the tandem rotor transport wobbling slightly as it settled into place, its massive cargo ramp opening with a metallic hiss. Workers in reinforced vests and face shields moved like clockwork, guiding the vehicle down with glowing batons and clipped commands.

Farther out, a monstrous Mil Mi-26 Halo emerged from the eastern clouds—its size dwarfing everything around it. The largest operational helicopter in Overwatch's fleet, the Mi-26 looked like a flying barn. It carried prefabricated housing units in its underbelly and steel irrigation pipes chained beneath its belly.

Thomas adjusted his gloves and stepped off the platform.

"Let's move, people!" he barked into the handheld radio. "Staging points Alpha through Echo go live now. First priority—power grid and water lines. Deploy the APU towers and get the irrigation survey drones airborne in ten."

"Copy that, Director," a voice replied.

Around him, Overwatch engineers, logistics crew, and agricultural specialists swarmed across the reclaimed field like ants.

The once-dead rice cooperative had begun to stir with life.

The site had transformed overnight from a reconnaissance outpost into the beating heart of what Thomas now called Forward Agro-Zone One, or FAZ-1.

Phillip's successful mission and the viability scan had convinced command to act fast. Thomas had pulled every available unit from the MOA Complex and sent them north.

Not just to claim land—but to revive it.

"Deploy the modular solar rigs along the southern embankment," shouted one foreman, pointing toward a line of folding aluminum panels being offloaded from a container.

"Copy—setting up auto-trackers to follow sunrise orientation!"

Twenty Overwatch personnel rushed to install the solar arrays, each one folding out like a flower and locking into adjustable steel stems drilled into pre-cleared earth. The goal was simple: clean energy, low footprint, and enough juice to power early irrigation pumps, charging stations, and mobile command gear.

To the north, another squad used bulldozers and heavy crawler-tractors airlifted in from MOA to flatten and re-grade a 500-meter strip of field. Their target: a crude landing strip capable of handling short-range STOL aircraft within the week.

"We'll get the first test landings done tomorrow," said one of the engineers, looking up from a tablet. "Surface compaction is rough, but it'll hold for twin-props."

Closer to the main staging area, a team of hydrology experts and drone operators monitored live feeds from their hovering scouts. These machines flew low over the landscape, scanning for buried water lines, blocked irrigation gates, and soil hydration patterns.

"Plot C is still dry," one of them said. "Drones are picking up clay compaction in the sublayer. Might need manual trenching or microburst irrigation if we want usable planting in the next two months."

"Understood," Thomas said as he reviewed the map. "Start with plots A and B. Those showed higher loam content."

Nearby, freshly-dropped habitat modules hissed and clicked as hydraulics extended stabilizing legs. Each one could house eight crew members, fully sealed, with backup generators and collapsible satellite dishes. Within the hour, a grid of twelve modules stood in a neat rectangular layout—command center, barracks, armory, med bay, and tool depot.

Cargo drones buzzed back and forth from the Chinook staging lines, dropping supplies like food packs, medical kits, seed samples, fertilizer canisters, and basic tools.

Within hours, FAZ-1 looked like a hybrid of a military base, a construction zone, and an off-world colony.

By noon, the air was thick with the sounds of power drills, hydraulic hisses, tracked vehicle clanks, and short bursts of radio traffic.

Thomas walked along the perimeter, flanked by two field techs with clipboards and armored vests. His boots pressed into freshly-tilled soil.

"What's the status on the irrigation gate on Plot B?" he asked.

"Manual pump installed, sir. Pressure test passed. We're working on a flow divider that'll let us control each quadrant without too much manual labor."

"Good. Any sign of infected?"

"No. Not since the Reaper engagement yesterday. Local scans are clean. We've got perimeter drones and motion sensors now active on a 600-meter radius."

Thomas nodded. "Once the test crop is in, we'll install sonic deterrents."

The tech beside him paused. "You think they'll wander back here?"

"They always do," Thomas said quietly. "Eventually."

He turned and walked back toward the center of the base.

The med bay had already been assembled by early afternoon. Inside, a small air-conditioned unit held the two children Phillip had rescued—Anya and Nico—now washed, fed, and given clean clothes.

Phillip stood near the door, arms crossed.

"How are they?" Thomas asked.

"Stable. Anya's withdrawn but cooperative. Nico doesn't speak much."

"They'll need more than rations," Thomas muttered. "We'll rotate a counselor up from MOA once we have routine flights."

Phillip nodded. "They're not the only ones out here, Thomas. You know that."

"I do."

Thomas stepped outside the med unit and looked across the awakening land—the fields, the helipads, the tractors, the shelters.

"Which is why we're going to take back everything. One farm at a time."

As the sun dipped lower toward the western horizon, the Mi-26 lifted off again—now empty of its cargo, its chains swaying gently beneath its belly. Chinooks circled overhead on return vectors, their shadows stretching long over the rice terraces.

From above, the scene was surreal.

Fields once dead now bore organized rows. Shelters stood in formation. Solar panels gleamed like rows of petals. Tractors rumbled with purpose. People moved like they belonged.

The land wasn't whole.

But it was healing.

Thomas stood at the heart of it all and checked the date on his wrist pad.

One day left until the system comes online.

He keyed in a command, sending out an encrypted update to all division leads.

"All FAZ-1 personnel. Begin Phase Two stabilization."