Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 199: At Last, Fighter Jets

November 11, 2025 — 06:00 AM

Forward Agro-Zone One – South Landing Strip

The sun hadn't yet risen, but the sky was already alive.

Spotlights lit the length of the makeshift runway, casting long shadows across crates of munitions, fueling rigs, and drone-guided ground crew shuffling between operations. The roar of engines broke the dawn silence like a declaration—one that echoed far beyond the Agro perimeter.

Thomas Estaris stood beneath the watchtower scaffolding, helmet in hand, eyes fixed on the ten F-16V Viper+ jets lined up across the strip, their gray-blue fuselages glinting beneath the floodlights. Each one bore a red sword decal under the cockpit: a mark of Skyhammer Squadron.

And this morning, the Vipers would take to the air—for the first time.

Not for training.

Not for display.

For war.

Phillip approached from the side, a binder tucked under his arm, still chewing the last bite of protein bar. "Squadron pre-flight checks all green. Fuel at max. Ordnance loaded as briefed."

"Confirm munitions," Thomas asked, eyes still on the birds.

Phillip flipped a tab.

"Skyhammer One through Six are equipped for deep-strike—four JDAMs, two AIM-9X each, plus internal countermeasures. Seven to Ten are on CAS loadouts: GBU-39/Bs, B.D.O. canisters, and twin underwing EMP pods."

Thomas nodded.

"And targets?"

"Scouted overnight by Reaper One-One and One-Three. Four zombie horde concentrations within a 25-kilometer radius," Phillip replied. He tapped a datapad. "Closest is six clicks southeast. Abandoned industrial park. 600 to 800 walkers minimum. Thermal readings suggest a Bloom influence, but no nest. The others are similar—refugee camps overrun months ago. Estimated total: over three thousand infected."

Thomas took a slow breath.

"Time to see what airpower does to rot."

One by one, the Vipers came alive.

Avionics powered on. HUDs flickered in the cockpits. Ground crews pulled back as hydraulic lifts dropped final payloads into place. The engines ignited with a high-pitched whine that swelled into a roar, each turbine pulse like thunder rolling down the length of the field.

Inside Skyhammer One, Captain Elian Torres grinned behind her helmet.

"Skyhammer One to Tower—systems online, flight controls synced, radar clean."

"Skyhammer Two, standing by. Ready for burn."

"Skyhammer Three, all green."

Thomas's voice came through the comms.

"This is Eagle Actual. You are cleared for takeoff. Target data uploaded. Engage at discretion. Show the world we don't need to fear the sky anymore."

"Copy that," Elian said. "Skyhammer launching."

The first Viper screamed down the strip, its afterburner lighting up the runway like sunrise. The moment its wheels left the earth, the watching crews erupted in quiet awe. Then came the second jet, and the third, and soon all ten were rising into formation—climbing like silver blades into the predawn mist.

Thomas stood beneath them, one hand gripping the railing.

"They're beautiful," Phillip said.

"Good thing we have those on our side," Thomas replied.

07:11 AM — Target Zone Alpha – Steelhand Industrial Park

Elian's cockpit glowed with multicolored light, her HUD painted with sensor tags and radar arcs. Below her, the industrial ruins passed by in jagged grays. The first target zone—an old rebar factory, now flooded with the undead. Thermal overlays showed movement packed wall-to-wall inside the crumbled hangars.

"Skyhammer One to strike team. Locking bombs. Standby for fire mission."

She flicked a switch.

Four green squares lit up—JDAMs armed.

Her targeting reticle narrowed in over a building tagged "Echo Foundry"—the heart of the cluster.

"Confirming lock. Three-second drop window."

Elian breathed in.

Then exhaled.

"Fox One."

The bomb dropped.

Then the second.

Third.

Fourth.

Below, the hangar roofs caved in as the munitions struck, followed by a bone-jarring ripple of flame and shockwave. One of the structures collapsed completely, belching black smoke into the sky. Another bomb struck a processing tower, igniting a stored gas line that sent a jet of fire arcing across the lot like a dragon's breath.

Phillip watched the live feed from the control screen at Agro, eyebrows rising.

"Jesus. They're tearing it apart."

"Look at the heat signature," Thomas said, pointing. "That's over 800 bodies evaporated in under thirty seconds."

In the air, Skyhammer Two and Three moved into strafe position, using 20mm cannon bursts to wipe out infected spilling into the open from the shockwaves. The bursts were surgical—tight, controlled, carving arcs of gore and ruin across the broken ground.

Then Skyhammer Seven moved in—CAS loadout armed.

"EMP deployed," the pilot said calmly. "Bloom activity suppressed."

A crackling flash hit the ground, knocking out the faint pulsing red spores that had begun to swirl at the edge of the crater. Bio-readings flatlined.

It was clean.

[Blood coins earned: 812,525]

07:36 AM — Target Zone Bravo – Balacat Refugee Compound

The second target zone was worse.

Rows of collapsed tents. Buses overturned. Hundreds of infected packed shoulder to shoulder, caught in the remains of their last desperate stand. There were no walls here—just bodies.

Skyhammer Six dropped low.

"Altitude 120 meters. BDOs online."

Two canisters released from the Viper's undercarriage and tumbled toward the center of the horde. They split in midair, releasing a wave of aerosolized Bloom neutralizer laced with thermobaric agents.

The result was catastrophic.

A wide red mist ignited like napalm as the canisters hit the ground, engulfing hundreds in a rolling firestorm. Screeches filled the air. Runners broke formation and bolted—but another strafing pass from Skyhammer Nine ended that retreat with precision airburst munitions.

No survivors.

No movement.

By 07:50, three clusters were annihilated. The fourth—already scattering from the roar of engines—never had a chance.

08:10 AM — Agro Command, Forward Ops Tent

Thomas stood at the center of a wide holographic table, watching live drone footage and thermal scans. The final overlay faded to blue. Cleared.

"Four thousand hostiles eliminated," a comms officer reported. "Zero pilot injuries. Fuel consumption under projected. Weapons nominal."

Phillip leaned over the table, nodding. "We haven't had a kill ratio like that since Subic was retaken."

[Blood coins earned: 1,125,520]

Thomas stepped back.

"No infected survived. No Bloom activity reported. That's what we needed to know."

He turned to the room, raising his voice.

"Log the operation under designation: First Talon. Today marks the beginning of Overwatch Air Command. Skyhammer Squadron is now active for deployment."

Applause followed. Engineers. Pilots. Officers.

But Thomas didn't smile.

Instead, he walked out of the tent and looked skyward—where the ten contrails of the Vipers still cut white streaks across the blue.

They had firepower now.

But firepower wasn't enough.

Not yet.

He tapped his console again. Pulled up the system.

[Aircraft refueler.]

"Let's see how far we can really go," he murmured.