Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse

The first Reaper dove with a guttural shriek, wings slicing the wind like knives. Its silhouette flashed across the morning sky—large, leathery, humanoid with elongated limbs and a grotesque jaw distended beyond natural limits. It swooped low over the field, targeting the extraction zone like a predator spotting prey.

Phillip's boots pounded the dirt as he led the charge back toward the Black Hawk landing zone, Anya clutched tightly in one arm, rifle slung and bouncing against his side. Behind him, Shadow One carried Nico over his shoulder like a sack of rice, not slowing even as the child whimpered in fright.

"Contact! Reaper incoming from the west!" Shadow Three shouted, his voice sharp over the local comms net.

"Everyone drop and form staggered defense!" Phillip barked.

The team didn't hesitate. Within seconds, they shifted from retreat to firing formation. Phillip handed Anya off to Shadow Four, who crouched beside a ruined concrete culvert and shielded the children with her body and pack. The others knelt in a semi-circle around the open patch of dirt they'd marked as the LZ.

"Shadow Five, eyes high. Two o'clock!"

"I've got visual!" he responded.

The Reaper banked hard, wings flaring out as it swept in again.

"Take it!" Phillip called.

Muzzle flashes blinked to life across the team's formation. Suppressed bursts of 5.56mm cracked upward, stitched with pinpoint precision into the creature's chest. The Reaper screamed mid-dive, veering off-course and tumbling through the air before crashing into a field of brittle sugarcane with a sickening thud.

"Target down," Shadow Five confirmed. "Minimal armor. Soft body tissue. Small arms are effective."

Phillip didn't relax.

"They're scouting. Expect more."

As if on cue, three more Reapers burst through the cloud layer. Their screeches grew louder as they spiraled into attack formation, flanking from multiple angles.

"Shadows, we go full tree-funnel defense," Phillip snapped. "Fire in sectors. One and Two—left arc. Three and Five—right arc. Four, protect the civvies and hold center support. Mark and drop them as they dive."

"Copy!" came the chorus of replies.

The Shadows moved like a machine. Each one knew their spacing, their lane, their kill zone. They didn't panic. They didn't scream. They fought like Overwatch's finest—sharp, efficient, ruthless.

The second Reaper came in low, skimming the tree line.

Shadow One fired a burst into its shoulder, shifting its path mid-air. Shadow Two followed up with a clean shot through the eye socket. The Reaper folded in on itself and tumbled down like a ragdoll, splattering into the side of a silo.

Another came in faster, banking right.

"Five, it's yours!" Phillip called.

"Tracking—wait for it—" Shadow Five squeezed his trigger. The round tore through the Reaper's wing joint. It let out a high-pitched screech as it spiraled, smashed into a power pole, and lay still.

"Three down," someone said. "One left in this wave!"

Phillip turned just in time to see the final Reaper come from directly above—a vertical divebomb with claws outstretched.

It was aiming for him.

Phillip dropped to one knee and fired upward. The shots struck its lower abdomen, slowing it—but not stopping.

Then came a second burst from his right.

Shadow Three.

The bullets ripped through the creature's jaw and tore into its skull. The Reaper collapsed midair, momentum flipping its body end-over-end before it slammed into the dirt just meters from the squad.

"Clear!" Phillip called out. "All hostiles down!"

Silence returned—momentarily.

Everyone scanned the skies.

"Still no signal from Overwatch," Shadow Two said, checking his wrist-mounted tablet. "Comms are jammed."

"We hold here until it stabilizes," Phillip replied. "Eyes up. Set up a 360 perimeter around the culvert. Watch the skies and the ridgelines. If anything moves, call it fast."

He moved back to the culvert and dropped beside Shadow Four.

Anya was trembling in her arms. Nico had buried his face in her vest.

"They're safe," Shadow Four whispered. "Scared. But not injured."

Phillip nodded. "Good. You two stay here with them. Keep your fire selective."

"Understood."

The others had begun dragging the Reaper corpses into a pile twenty meters away. Their bodies oozed dark, tar-like blood, and their wings twitched sporadically with leftover nerve impulses.

"Samples?" Shadow Three asked, holding up a sterile pouch.

"Take one wing, one jaw, and blood," Phillip said. "But double-bag them. No spores this time—but I'm not risking anything."

They worked fast, surgical.

"Still no bloom activity on scanners," Shadow Five said, checking his motion tracker. "This wasn't a nest proximity alert. They were patrolling."

Phillip stared at the remains.

"Or hunting."

A low electronic whine suddenly crackled in his earpiece.

"…Shadow One, this is Overwatch Command. Do you copy?"

Phillip pressed his comm. "Overwatch, this is Shadow One. Loud and clear now."

"We lost connection due to atmospheric interference. Status?"

"Four Reaper-class infected engaged and neutralized. No casualties. Two survivors recovered. Extraction site secured."

A pause.

"Confirmed. Excellent work, Shadow One. Spooky One is back on grid. ETA to your position: twenty minutes. Hold LZ. Transmitting drone coverage now."

A high-pitched tone signaled the data sync.

Phillip exhaled. "Roger that. We'll prep for evac."

He turned to his team.

"Alright, let's clean this up. Bag what we can, burn what we can't. I want this zone locked down before Spooky One gets here. Eyes up until the rotors touch dirt."

"Copy!" the team echoed, already moving.

Minutes passed.

The sun was rising higher now, casting golden rays over the ruined field. The smell of smoke drifted from the small controlled fires the Shadows had set—Reaper corpses turning to ash under white phosphorous strips. The wind carried the acrid scent out over the fields.

Anya had stopped shaking. She now sat beside Nico, both of them sipping water from a spare ration pack tube. Their eyes followed the Shadows in silent awe.

Phillip knelt beside them.

"You were really brave back there," he told Anya.

She looked down. "I didn't do anything."

"You stayed alive. You kept your brother safe. You didn't panic. That's everything."

She didn't respond, but her shoulders eased.

Then, in the distance—a faint sound.

Rotor blades.

Phillip stood and looked skyward.

"Eyes up. Spooky's inbound."

Sure enough, a Black Hawk dipped over the northern tree line, sun glinting off its nose as it approached low and steady.

"There's our ride boys."