Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse

November 26, 2025 — 4:42 AM

MOA Complex – Hangar 4

The air inside the hangar was cold and still.

Only the soft hum of power tools and the occasional click of boots echoed through the vast space. Overhead lights glowed in dim red to avoid attracting attention from the outer watchtowers. At the center of it all sat the C-17 Globemaster III, silent, grounded, and fully loaded.

The aircraft loomed in the dark like a sleeping beast. Its belly was full—relay towers, solar conversion kits, surveillance drones, and tactical supplies all secured and double-checked. But tonight wasn't for cargo.

Tonight was about the engines.

Thomas Estaris stood just outside the side hatch in his black Overwatch flight uniform, visor clipped to his vest, headset hanging loosely around his neck. The control tablet in his hand displayed the four engine modules and their diagnostics—cold, nominal, prepped.

Beside him stood Madel, arms folded, her own headset already on. She wore a focused expression, eyes watching the hangar doors like they might burst open at any moment, even though they both knew the protocols were airtight.

"Pre-flight complete," she said, glancing at her interface. "All systems green."

Behind them, Sergeant Li and Tech Operator Mira were finalizing bay lock confirmations while Velez ran a silent checklist on the primary drone launch bracket inside the cargo hold.

Thomas exhaled, then nodded.

"Let's bring her to life."

They entered the cockpit.

4:55 AM – C-17 Cockpit

Inside, the cockpit was bathed in cool blue light from the powered displays. Rows of switches, levers, and status monitors hummed softly. Everything was clean. Ready.

Thomas sat in the left seat, Madel on the right.

Mira's voice came through the comms from the systems bay. "Fuel lines connected. Auxiliary power online. External cooling pump set."

Thomas flicked a toggle overhead. The engine control lights blinked to green.

"Starting Engine One," he said calmly.

A low whir began beneath them—a slow buildup of power, then the deep, rising churn of turbofan ignition. The hangar vibrated gently as the first of four massive engines spun to life.

"Engine One stable," Madel reported. "Thrust idle. Temp holding."

"Starting Engine Two."

The second engine came online faster, the two now harmonizing in a low, rumbling chorus.

Outside the hangar, ground crews remained still. Ortega stood near the wall with a portable terminal, watching from the shadows. Only a handful of staff were even aware a plane was being powered, much less prepped to fly.

"Engines Three and Four coming up."

Thomas flipped the final pair of toggles. The aircraft shuddered slightly as all four engines reached synchronized idle.

Inside the cockpit, the ambient noise was louder now—no longer the silence of a sleeping giant, but the growl of a war machine that had awoken.

"All engines stable," Madel confirmed. "No fuel pressure anomalies. Heat dispersion green."

Thomas tapped the throttle slowly, inching it forward a centimeter.

The Globemaster moved.

Just a nudge. Enough to feel the wheels shift against the reinforced floor plates. Not enough to move far. Just enough to confirm: she was ready.

"Run the taxi protocol," he ordered.

Madel complied.

"Tire pressure stable. Left gear showing minor bounce, within acceptable limits."

"Forward sensor array?"

"Operational."

From the cargo hold, Li's voice crackled in. "All cargo secure. Ramp sealed. No movement."

Mira followed a beat later. "Power routing optimal. Flight control hydraulics reading 99% response."

Thomas allowed himself a breath.

"Alright. Taxi to Point Echo. Then full stop and shutdown."

5:06 AM – MOA Runway Alpha, Echo Position

The hangar doors had been opened just enough to allow the aircraft through—wide enough to move, narrow enough not to catch attention from drones watching the outer perimeters.

The C-17 emerged slowly, like a shadow rolling out into the early morning dark. Its lights were off. Only the faint strobe under its wing pulsed every few seconds.

Ground teams cleared the taxi lane in total silence.

Inside the cockpit, Thomas and Madel coordinated the move.

"Left brake gentle," she said.

"Copy. Rolling to Echo. Full stop in one hundred."

As the massive aircraft crept forward, the tension in the air was palpable.

If anyone outside the complex had satellite surveillance—or an air-to-ground listener—this would be the moment to spot them.

But they had planned for this. Pre-dawn. Weather interference. Radio silence.

"Ten meters… five…"

The plane slowed to a crawl.

"Stop."

Thomas eased the throttle down. The C-17 coasted to a complete halt at Point Echo, the designated shutdown zone for this test. The nose pointed east, directly aligned with the direction they would take on the real launch.

"Engines idle," Madel confirmed.

Thomas gave a final nod. "Shutdown sequence."

One by one, the turbines spooled down. The roar faded to a growl, then to a low hum, then to nothing at all.

And once again, silence returned.

The aircraft sat there, a steel colossus under the fading stars.

5:24 AM – C-17 Exterior, Runway Echo

Outside, Ortega approached the left wing with her tablet. Her crew followed in silence, inspecting landing gear components and stress indicators. No cracks. No warping. No signs of strain on the repaved section of the runway.

She walked up to Thomas and gave a simple nod.

"She's good."

"Flight-grade?" he asked.

"If you told me this came from Yokota last week, I'd believe you."

He looked back at the plane. "Then it's time."

Madel joined them. "No leaks. No imbalance. If we needed to take off in ten minutes, I'd be confident."

"We won't need ten," Thomas said. "But we'll be wheels up in twenty days. And when we do, everything rides on her."

Marcus arrived moments later, flanked by two technicians. He glanced at the engine logs Madel handed him, then looked up at the aircraft.

"So she flies."

"She flies," Thomas confirmed.

Marcus crossed his arms. "Still surreal. We're in the middle of a world-ending crisis and somehow we're flying missions that'd make pre-collapse air forces jealous."

Thomas didn't reply. He just watched the silent C-17 as the crew began rolling it back toward the hangar.

They would keep it under wraps for another few weeks.

But in the quiet, pre-dawn dark…

They all knew.

Something was coming.

And now, they had the wings to carry it.