Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 104: Wait, You are Sending What?

The lead truck lurched violently, metal shrieking as the entire frame tilted from the impact. Captain Villamor's head slammed against the door frame, dazing him. Delgado cursed, trying to keep the wheel straight, but the vehicle skidded sideways into the ditch.

Then came the sound. A deep, inhuman growl. It wasn't the mindless shrieking of regular infected—it was guttural, deliberate. And loud.

"What the hell was that?!" Tinio shouted from the back.

Villamor's hand reached for his rifle instinctively, heart pounding. He looked out the shattered window.

That's when he saw it.

A massive, grotesque creature slammed its clawed hand down on the truck's hood. Its twisted musculature looked like layers of torn flesh and sinew barely held together. The jaw was wide, with ragged teeth gleaming under the morning sun. The beast snarled, saliva dripping from its mouth like acid.

Villamor froze.

"What in God's name…" he breathed. "That's not a regular infected."

Another impact. One of the following trucks was ripped apart as a second creature crashed into it from the treeline, sending a soldier flying like a ragdoll. Screams filled the air.

Inside the UAV Ops Center, Cruz's voice cracked through the speaker, alarmed.

"Eagle Actual! Multiple large contacts just breached the convoy zone! Five hostiles—Mawbeasts. Bigger than the ones we saw during the MOA Complex wave. They're moving fast—damn fast!"

Thomas's eyes went wide. "Five?"

"Confirmed. They're tearing through Villamor's convoy—sir, they don't stand a chance!"

Marcus chimed in. "We've never seen that many in one place before. And that size? Jesus."

On the screen, the Reaper's camera caught it all. One of the Mawbeasts tossed a soldier across the road like a sack of meat. Another crushed the hood of the second truck, dragging out the screaming driver and slamming him into the dirt. Blood sprayed across the asphalt.

Villamor scrambled out of the door with Tinio, dragging Delgado with them. He shouted at the few remaining troops to fall back—"To the treeline! Move, now!"

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But it was chaos.

One Mawbeast lunged forward, impaling a soldier on its arm spike. Another grabbed a man by the leg and flung him into a tree with a sickening crunch.

"Is there anything we can do to help them?" Thomas asked.

Marcus simply shook his head. "Negative Eagle Actual, the targets are too close to friendlies. If we fire a missile, they'll get caught by the explosion."

Thomas clenched his fists, jaw locked as he watched the feed in grim silence. Onscreen, the carnage continued—every second more brutal than the last.

"Goddammit…" Thomas muttered under his breath, eyes never leaving the monitors. "It's a massacre."

In the field, Villamor's boots pounded the earth as he sprinted through the underbrush, Tinio and Delgado close behind. Gunfire erupted behind them—short bursts from panicked soldiers trying to slow the monsters down. It did nothing. The Mawbeasts were too fast, too resilient, too damn strong.

"Keep moving!" Villamor shouted, glancing back over his shoulder just in time to see a third truck explode—fuel tank ruptured by a massive claw. The flames lit up the jungle for a brief moment before being smothered by smoke and gore.

Delgado stumbled, his leg bleeding from a gash. Villamor grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him upright. "Don't stop!"

Inside the UAV Ops Center, Cruz's voice came again, tight with urgency. "Two survivors breaking off southeast—matching Villamor's last known heat sig. They're being chased."

"Eagle," Logan said, stepping closer. "We can't shoot, but we can guide."

Thomas nodded. "Cruz, relay real-time nav to their position. Guide them to the gully at grid Kilo-Five-Seven. It'll give 'em cover."

Cruz's hands flew across the keyboard. "Copy that. Sending nav markers to their portable receiver. If they still have it on…"

Back on the ground, Villamor's earpiece crackled to life with an automated tone—then Cruz's calm voice filtered through, barely audible over the chaos.

"…Captain Villamor, this is Reaper One-One. Change heading fifteen degrees east. Gully ahead. Cover."

Villamor's eyes widened. "How the hell—" But there was no time to question.

He pointed ahead. "That way! We've got eyes in the sky—move!"

Behind them, a Mawbeast crashed through the trees, snapping trunks in half like matchsticks. Its roar sent birds scattering into the sky.

Tinio fired back over his shoulder, rounds pinging uselessly off the creature's hide. "It's gaining!"

"Save your ammo!" Villamor barked. "Just run!"

Up above, the drone followed every movement. On-screen, the distance between the Mawbeast and the survivors shrank rapidly.

"Cruz," Thomas said tightly, "if they trip, they die."

"Copy. Holding lock-on. But still no clean shot."

Logan's fingers tapped against the console. "What about a distraction strike? Not on them but ahead of their position, draw some attention off?"

Marcus perked up. "That could work. The hellfire's shockwave, sound, and fire could divert at least two of 'em."

Thomas didn't hesitate. "Do it. Grid Lima-Three-Niner. Aim for noise."

"Target locked," Cruz confirmed. "Firing."

Seconds passed.

Then, on the feed, a blinding flash filled the corner of the screen as the missile impacted. The ground erupted in a thunderous explosion—flames, debris, and smoke billowing into the treetops.

On the ground, the Mawbeasts snarled and turned, momentarily disoriented by the shockwave. Two of them veered toward the blast, lured by the noise and light.

"It worked," Cruz muttered. "Two breaking off. Three still on Villamor's group."

"Not good enough," Thomas growled. "Keep feeding them directions. We're buying time now."

Villamor and his men finally reached the edge of the gully—a steep, muddy slope choked with vines and rocks. They slid down, stumbling into the narrow ditch below.

"Stay low!" Villamor ordered, pushing Delgado flat against the side. Tinio dropped beside them, chest heaving.

"Status?" Thomas called out over the comms.

Villamor keyed his mic, voice raw. "Two with me. Five others confirmed KIA. We're pinned in a ditch with three of those things on our heels."

"We're working on a solution," Thomas replied, then radioed Marcus. "Prep a QRF. I want a gunship team on standby. The Reaper alone wouldn't be able to handle their numbers as it's flying on limited missiles to save fuel."

"Wait, you are sending the AC-130?" Phillip, who was watching from behind, asked.

"I am."