Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 154: The Test Flight Part 1

He stood near the edge of the MOA Complex airstrip, eyes scanning the parked aircraft under the rising sun. A row of Black Hawk helicopters gleamed under the maintenance lights, their rotors still, their engines silent. Beyond them, the ground crews moved with quiet focus, checking fuel lines, tightening bolts, logging preflight diagnostics.

Phillip approached from behind, sipping coffee from a steel thermos. "You're up early."

Thomas gave a small nod. "Felt like flying."

Phillip blinked. "Wait, what?"

"I have flying skills," Thomas said, turning to face him. "I really wanted to try out my skills even though I don't have any experience."

Phillip raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You want to fly a Black Hawk?"

"Just one round. Sightseeing."

"We're not exactly in a tourist zone."

Thomas offered a slight smirk. "Call it high-altitude recon."

Phillip sipped his coffee again, then tilted his head toward Hangar Three. "We've got Hawk-17 fueled and prepped. Coop's the on-duty pilot. He can ride co-pilot and babysit you."

Thomas already started walking. "Perfect."

Inside the hangar, the Black Hawk loomed like a metal beast ready to leap. Two ground crew were checking final systems as Thomas climbed into the cockpit.

Coop, a young pilot with short-cropped hair and a laid-back attitude, slid into the left seat and handed Thomas a headset.

"You ever actually flown one of these, sir?" Coop asked, strapping in.

"Nope, but I do have skills."

"Alright. I'll handle the radios and callouts. You keep us level and upright."

"I can manage that."

The rotors spun to life with a low whine that quickly built to a deep, chopping roar. The entire airframe trembled as systems lit up in sequence. Coop gave the final thumbs up to ground control, and a controller in the tower waved them off with a glowing panel.

Thomas eased the stick forward, slowly pulling the collective.

The Black Hawk lifted from the tarmac like a predator stretching its wings.

They banked north, climbing toward a steady 300-meter cruising altitude.

Below them, the MOA Complex shrank into a nest of walls and barricades. The reclaimed structures, food warehouses, and solar towers looked tiny from up here—tiny but alive.

Then the outer world came into view.

Thomas's hands tightened slightly on the controls.

"Jesus," he muttered.

Manila was dying.

The Bloom was everywhere.

From this height, it was impossible to miss the long, winding tendrils that choked the landscape. Major roads—EDSA, Taft, even parts of Roxas Boulevard—were half-swallowed in a slow-moving blanket of vine and pod. Several buildings along the Pasay and Makati border had been completely consumed. The skeletal remains of high-rises were fused into bulbous growths, like tumors stretching toward the sky.

Coop was quiet for a moment. Then he pointed through the windscreen.

"See that cluster by the Guadalupe Bridge?"

Thomas banked slightly to the left, angling the chopper toward the Pasig River. A large Bloom Nest had formed along both sides of the waterway, linking through tendrils that had wrapped around the bridge's supports. Thick red mist rose from its center like chimney smoke.

"That one's new," Coop said. "Didn't exist two days ago."

They flew further north, past Mandaluyong. The Ortigas business district was a mess of glass and spore. Thomas recognized the building they'd landed on days before—Robinsons Summit Tower. It was nearly unrecognizable now. Vines had overtaken its crown, and the pod they'd scanned was bigger, pulsing faintly in the morning sun.

"Shadow Team pulled out in time," Thomas said quietly.

"Yeah. But for how long?"

Thomas didn't answer. They banked again and cut west toward Quezon City. Even from here, they could see patches of Bloom Nests dotting scattered zones near East Avenue and around the old Memorial Circle.

"I thought Quezon was stable," Thomas said.

"It was," Coop replied. "But now? Growth's erratic. It's not a clean spread—it's jumping zones. Skipping like it's choosing targets."

"Like it's learning," Thomas muttered.

They flew over University Avenue, the wide green spaces now lined with strange orange stalks that swayed slightly, even though there was no wind. One of the radio antennas had collapsed, buried in biomass.

Thomas turned south again.

As they passed over the banks of the Pasig River, he noticed something strange. A single skyscraper—relatively untouched—stood amidst a sea of vines. But the Bloom growth had formed a circle around it, like it was being intentionally avoided.

He made a note of the coordinates.

"Take us lower," he said.

Coop didn't question it. They dipped to 150 meters, skimming the tops of decaying buildings.

From this close, Thomas could see movement in the biomass. Not just twitching—but actual coordination. Like muscle contractions moving fluid through a body.

"Is it just me," Coop said, "or is this thing breathing?"

"It is," Thomas confirmed.

They continued west, passing over Ermita and Intramuros. The old Spanish walls were partially collapsed, stone eaten through by long red tendrils. Bloom pods had cracked open in several places, and from inside, half-formed figures twitched—lifeless or not, it was hard to tell.

They turned back toward the coast.

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In the far distance, across the bay, a new bloom tower had begun to rise in Cavite. It stretched higher than any they'd seen so far—like a spire, forming from abandoned construction scaffolding now repurposed by the infection.

Thomas stared at it in silence.

"That's not spreading anymore," he said.

"No," Coop agreed. "That's building."

A pause hung between them.

Then Thomas took a deep breath. "Let's head back."

Coop nodded, toggling the comms. "MOA Tower, this is Black Hawk 17 inbound. Recon complete."

They approached the MOA Complex airfield from the east, the defensive walls looking even more fragile after what they'd seen.

Thomas brought the helicopter down smoothly, rotors kicking up another storm of dust as the skids touched down.

As they powered down, Coop removed his headset. "You did good, sir. Not bad for a Supreme Commander."

Thomas gave a tight smile. "Thanks for letting me take the stick."

He stepped out of the chopper and looked back at the skyline one last time.

It was spreading.

And they were running out of time.

Inside, the war machine of Overwatch was still moving—training, loading, planning.

But now Thomas had seen it for himself.

This was no longer just a defensive campaign.

It was a countdown.

And the end was already writing itself across the city in red.