Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 221: Something Fishy Part 2

December 15, 2025 — 3:03 PM

East China Sea – 178 Nautical Miles from Luzon

The Sea Phantom was quiet, its engines dropped to a whisper as it drifted at twelve knots, cutting a slow curve across the now-darker waters of the East China Sea.

Inside the sealed cockpit, Thomas Estaris sat tense, his eyes scanning the sonar return like a man watching an old fuse burning down. The ocean was beginning to change. The light outside dimmed, not from the sun—still well above the horizon—but from the water itself.

The glow had gone dull.

More blips appeared on the sonar.

Contact 1: Depth 17.5m

Contact 2: Depth 16.9m

Contact 3: Depth 19.2m

Contact 4: Depth 18.0m

Movement Pattern: Irregular convergence

Classification: Unknown

They were rising.

"They're tracking me," Thomas muttered under his breath. "No way this is coincidence."

He scanned for escape vectors—no nearby landmasses, no islands, no friendly units. The only thing he had was ocean.

And a hull.

The Sea Phantom was fast—but it wasn't armored for prolonged engagement. It was a recon boat. Agile. Smart. But not built for combat against monsters.

Thomas reached under the instrument panel and unlocked the emergency toolkit. Inside were a flare gun, the impact stunner, a carbon baton, and two explosive charges used for breaching emergency floats. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

He clipped the stunner to his belt.

"Just in case."

A heavy thump jolted the craft.

He whipped around.

Another thump—lower, stronger. This time it scraped along the underside. A long dragging sound followed, like claws on metal.

The system chirped.

Hull Integrity: 95%

External abrasion detected

Automated anti-fouling active

Thomas toggled the external camera feed.

The water was murky now. Visibility had dropped to just a few meters. But through the gloom, he saw shapes.

Long.

Fast.

Some were serpentine. Others humanoid but warped, like divers with their limbs stretched too far.

And then one of them turned—just slightly—and the glow of its eye reflected through the current.

Yellow.

Burning.

Alive.

Thomas activated the acoustic deterrent—a low-frequency sonar pulse designed to scatter small pods of aggressive marine life.

The speakers embedded in the hull pulsed once—deep and resonant.

The creatures flinched. One darted away.

Another reeled back in a writhing motion.

But two more kept approaching.

And then—another impact.

This time, directly beneath the cockpit.

The Sea Phantom rocked sharply. Thomas grabbed the console for balance.

Hull Integrity: 91%

Forward stabilizer panel stress: moderate

His jaw clenched. "Alright, time to move."

He slapped the throttle forward.

The Sea Phantom surged ahead, twin jets pushing the craft toward open water at 32 knots. Behind him, a trail of disturbed water and surface turbulence spread like a broken wake.

The sonar pinged again—some of the contacts faded, but two still followed.

Fast.

Thomas toggled the rear camera.

He saw them.

One of the creatures was skimming just under the surface. Its elongated body twisted like a mutated eel, with protruding bone spikes along its dorsal side. The other was more humanoid—like a swimmer, except its arms ended in long fins, and its spine arched with unnatural elasticity.

Thomas cursed. "They're adapting to speed…"

He engaged the rear flare launcher and fired.

A series of flares deployed into the water—one by one—each set to release high-heat pulses meant to confuse heat-seeking wildlife.

The creatures peeled away—temporarily blinded or disrupted.

Thomas cut speed to twenty knots and made a wide turn—a decoy loop, designed to draw them wide while he pivoted back into a more direct escape route.

But he knew that trick wouldn't work again.

He switched to active sonar and expanded the scan radius.

Additional contacts: 3

Approximate depth: 14–22m

Estimated cluster movement: Coordinated spread

Coordinated.

His stomach sank.

These weren't just infected sea creatures.

These were learning.

A heavy crash slammed into the stern. One of the creatures launched itself onto the rear deck, sliding across the hull, screeching as it latched onto the corner handle rail.

Its upper half looked vaguely human—sunken chest, ribcage exposed, bloated skin sloughing off like kelp. Its face was stretched and jawless, with long black teeth curling upward. Its lower body—some fusion of eel, fin, and whip-like tail—dragged behind.

It began clawing at the canopy glass, trying to pull itself forward.

Thomas didn't hesitate.

He grabbed the impact stunner, turned to the left-side access panel, flipped open the emergency port, and jammed the stunner into the conduit.

BZZZAKK!

A bolt of concentrated current surged through the hull.

The creature spasmed, shrieked, and released its grip—slamming backward into the water in a cloud of smoke and steam.

The screen showed:

Hull Shock Deployed – Cooldown: 3 minutes

He leaned back, panting.

Another ping.

Two more shapes—this time rising directly ahead.

Thomas scanned the nav.

"Enough," he muttered.

He yanked the throttle again, this time locking into maximum burn. The Sea Phantom jolted forward at 40 knots, slicing the water with a sharp bow wave.

The wind pushed against the canopy.

The contacts behind him began to vanish—too slow to keep up.

The ones in front moved to intercept—but he weaved around them, skipping over a low wave, turning hard to port and swinging wide before straightening course southward again.

Ten minutes passed before the radar cleared.

Fifteen more before he dared breathe normally.

By then, the sun was dipping.

He ran diagnostics.

Hull Integrity: 86%

No leaks

Fuel: 62%

Estimated Distance: 140 nm to MOA Complex

Threat status: Dormant

He let out a slow, shaking breath.

The sea had changed.

This was no longer just open water.

It was hunting ground.

And now he had one message burned into his mind:

The Bloom wasn't just spreading across the land.

It had reached the ocean.

And it had learned to swim.

He gripped the yoke, his knuckles turning white.

The Sea Phantom had settled back into steady motion, but the quiet seemed wrong. He wasn't sure whether the creatures had left or if they were simply waiting, tracking his every move. One thing was certain—there was more out there now. The sea was no longer just an obstacle to cross.

It had become a hunter's den.