Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 202: Taiwan

November 14, 2025 — 04:32 AM

Over the Luzon Strait – Aboard Valkyrie One

The KC-135 Stratotanker, Valkyrie One, flew steady and silent through the darkness, its four massive engines humming with mechanical precision. Outside the reinforced cockpit glass, the black ocean stretched endlessly below, calm and featureless under the early morning sky. Navigation lights blinked red and green at the wing tips, slicing across the void with rhythmic certainty.

Inside, the hum of onboard systems, quiet breathing, and the occasional shuffle of boots filled the cabin. Thomas Estaris sat in the pilot's chair, eyes focused on the heads-up display projecting their route forward. Beside him, Lieutenant Madel checked the avionics again, ensuring fuel burn, cabin pressure, and auxiliary systems remained within nominal parameters.

They had departed Forward Agro-Zone One just after 3:00 AM, flying low over northern Luzon before banking east across the Luzon Strait. Now, they were halfway to Taiwan.

It had been a long time coming.

Thomas had waited months for this—for a flight that reached beyond the crumbled borders of the Philippine archipelago. Beyond every lost signal, every dead satellite, every unanswered call. The world had gone dark after the outbreak's second wave. Only rumors and fragments had remained. But now, Overwatch had the sky again. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

Now, he could see.

"ETA to Taiwan coastline: twelve minutes," Madel said softly.

"Copy," Thomas replied. "Alert the team."

A quiet beep sounded over the cabin comms. In the back of the aircraft, two more Overwatch personnel—Flight Engineer Lopez and Mission Tech Serano—secured themselves at observation stations. They weren't armed for combat. They were here to watch, record, and report.

"Engaging sensor sweep in five," Serano called over the intercom. "Thermals, optics, lidar, radiation. Full sweep."

The lights dimmed in the cockpit as the onboard systems switched to reconnaissance mode. A soft chime echoed through the fuselage.

Thomas exhaled and sat back, staring ahead into the darkness.

"Let's see if anyone's still out here."

04:49 AM — First Contact: Taiwan Coastline

As they crossed into Taiwanese airspace, the first hints of coastline began to appear—a jagged, broken line against the black sea, bathed in the faint gray of impending dawn. The HUD tagged the landmass as accurate.

Thomas looked through the side glass.

"What's that?" Madel asked.

He adjusted the zoom on his forward display. At first, it looked like cliffs or natural rock formations—but no. They were ruins.

Ruined ships.

Half a dozen rusted naval vessels—frigates and destroyers—lay scattered along the shoreline. Some had run aground. One had capsized. All were broken, leaning at unnatural angles, covered in moss and salt-streaks. Lifeboats hung from shattered davits, untouched.

Thomas leaned forward.

"No movement. No signal. No heat."

Madel frowned. "Abandoned. Completely."

They continued inland, now flying over what once was Kaohsiung—a city known for its bustling port, towering buildings, and vibrant night markets.

Now?

Nothing moved.

From their altitude, they could see the blackened remains of high-rises. Craters littered the harbor district. Several oil tankers sat in the port basin, scorched and half-submerged. One had burst open, its metal curled outward like paper torn from the inside.

Thermal scans revealed only a single heat source.

A fire. Small. Likely from a structural collapse, not any human activity.

Madel checked her console again. "No RF signals. No open comms. Dead spectrum."

Thomas tapped his interface and opened an overhead satellite render from before the apocalypse. He overlaid it over the real-time scan.

The difference was staggering.

Highways that once glowed with traffic were now drowned in vines. Stadiums had collapsed inward. The famous Fo Guang Shan Buddha—once towering on the outskirts—was gone. Nothing but a shattered foundation remained.

And then, at last, they reached their destination.

Taipei.

05:17 AM — Over the Ruins of Taipei

They approached the former capital from the south, descending slightly for better visual recon. The sky had brightened just enough to reveal outlines clearly. In the dim morning light, Taipei sprawled below them—gray, black, and broken.

Madel gasped softly. "Oh god…"

Thomas didn't speak.

Where there had once been light, life, and 2.6 million people, there was now only wreckage. Not the kind of natural collapse caused by time or neglect—but destruction.

Deliberate.

Explosions had torn through major sectors. Bridges had been severed with surgical precision, as if to halt mass movement. The central business district was flattened. Whole blocks turned to ash. The Taipei 101—once the pride of the city—stood no more. Its base was a scorched pit. The tower itself had fallen sideways, split in half.

"Whatever happened here," Serano said over comms, "it wasn't gradual."

Thomas agreed. He could see the traces of it now. Not just decay. Bombing runs. Shelling. Firestorms. Someone had tried to burn the infection out of Taipei.

And failed.

Madel adjusted the thermal filter again. "We have… bodies. Lots of them. But no movement. No active clusters. It's like…"

"A tomb," Thomas finished.

They circled once, scanning the city from multiple angles. Parks overgrown. Government buildings collapsed. Every highway choked with vehicles that had never moved again. Buses burned out. Military vehicles overturned and left behind.

In one plaza, they saw a ring of burned-out tanks, arranged in a defensive circle.

Whatever last stand had happened here… it hadn't lasted.

"Power grid is dead," Lopez said from the rear console. "No broadcast signals. No satellite relay. It's like they cut themselves off."

"Or were cut off," Madel added.

They completed their second loop and began to ascend again.

"We've seen enough," Thomas said.

Madel nodded. "Course back to Luzon?"

"Yes. Mark the route. Tag every heat anomaly and terrain change."

He turned his eyes one final time toward the broken skyline of Taipei.

There had been hope, once, that some part of East Asia had held on—that the cities had fared better. That governments had rallied, that maybe an ally remained across the sea.

But looking down now…

Thomas knew the truth.

There were no broadcasts because there were no survivors.

Not here.

Not anymore.

06:41 AM — Return Flight, South of the Strait

The sun was rising behind them now as Valkyrie One cruised back toward the Philippine coastline. The golden light broke across the sea, making it almost peaceful—almost.

But no one in the cockpit was smiling.

Madel finally spoke. "What now?"

Thomas answered without looking up.

"We keep flying."

He tapped into his console, setting new folders for recon data, terrain models, and potential landing zones.

"We log everything. Share nothing. Not yet. Not until we're ready."

She tilted her head. "Ready for what?"

Thomas looked forward, eyes steady, voice calm.

"To be the last line… or the first step forward."

Outside, the ocean stretched forever. But beyond it—more nations, more cities, more ruins.

And maybe, one day, someone else would answer from the sky.