Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse

The air near the Colossal Worm was heavy—electrically charged and dense like the moment before a storm breaks. Phillip stood motionless for several seconds after issuing the order, scanning the spire with narrowed eyes. Even from this close, it didn't move. Didn't flinch. It simply loomed—its surface glistening with a strange combination of biofilm and hardened carapace, its jagged plates shifting ever so slightly with an almost imperceptible rhythm, like breathing.

"Shadow 4, bring up the Bio-Extract Kit. Shadow 7, thermal scan. Shadow 9, set the drone. Let's not waste time," Phillip ordered.

The team scattered into roles. Their helmets' HUDs flickered to new overlays, switching from standard ops to scientific recon mode—filters calibrated for biological structures, thermal maps, and micro-vibration feedback.

"Thermal's weird," Shadow 7 muttered, kneeling behind a crumbled car frame. "Core temperature spikes every thirty-seven seconds. Then drops. Not consistent. Like it's pulsing energy outward."

"It's not passive," Phillip said. "It's doing something."

He moved closer—just to the edge of the root-like spires. The ground here wasn't just cracked—it was changed. Hardened like volcanic glass, and littered with veins that glowed faintly beneath the surface. Every few meters, tiny pods pulsed like organic sensors.

"Shadow 6," Phillip called, "cut a pod loose. Use precision tools—don't break the outer membrane."

Shadow 6, already kneeling with a field scalpel and pressurized sample vial, nodded. His gloved fingers worked quickly, slicing around the thick, rubbery base of one of the fist-sized pods. A small mist of vapor escaped, but the membrane remained intact.

"Pod's intact. Sealing the sample," he confirmed, locking it into a reinforced container with a hiss of nitrogen sealant. "Readings say it's generating trace amounts of synthetic neurotransmitters. Non-standard. Something similar to serotonin, but... not."

"Like it's broadcasting stimuli," Shadow 2 muttered. "Mood regulation on a mass scale?"

"Could be a control vector," Shadow 4 added. "We'd need a lab to know for sure."

Phillip didn't reply. He stepped in closer to one of the large bone-like tendrils. It twitched slightly—no more than a muscle reflex—but he paused.

Then reached for it.

"Shadow 0-1, hold—" Shadow 3 warned, but Phillip was already kneeling by the tendril with a field biopsy drill. He activated the tool. The tip glowed as it began to spin, a hollow bit designed to carve into both bone and chitin.

With careful pressure, he placed it against the surface and began to drill.

There was resistance—more than expected. Not quite like drilling into metal, but close. A dense layering of keratin and silicate mixed with something softer beneath, something that bled faintly when pierced. The moment the core sample dislodged, the surface twitched again—slightly harder this time, like a heartbeat startled awake.

"Sample secured," Phillip announced, voice tight. "One cubic inch, core tissue, carapace and sub-surface."

He withdrew, holding the core inside a titanium biopsy tube. As he stood, the ground beneath their boots trembled slightly.

"Whatever you just did," Shadow 5 said quietly, "it noticed."

"Shadow 8," Phillip said, "status on the spore drone?"

"Ready for launch," came the reply. The scout drone, roughly the size of a crow, buzzed to life and lifted off from its launch pad. It spiraled upward, adjusting for turbulence as it ascended. Its cameras focused on the spire's midsection—where violet light still shimmered just beneath the surface.

"I'm going for a mid-body surface scrape," Shadow 8 said. "Deploying arm now."

The drone released a carbon-fiber filament tipped with a micro-scraper. It hovered in close—barely meters from the glowing plates. Then touched.

A sudden discharge of static hit the drone. Its feed stuttered—blurring with static and lines.

"Pull back!" Phillip barked.

Too late.

From the top of the Worm, something opened.

It didn't move like a weapon port or a cannon.

It opened like a flower.

A twisting lens of translucent bone split down the center of its crown, revealing a massive, pupil-less eye that pulsed with vibrant violet light. There was no iris. No blink.

It just stared.

The drone exploded mid-air, plasma searing through it with pinpoint precision. The blast lit the area like daylight, and for a moment the heat pushed back the haze around them.

The Worm's eye closed.

Silence.

But the message was clear: We see you.

Phillip gritted his teeth.

"Shadow 7, scan frequency logs. That plasma beam—it's not constant, right?"

"Confirmed," came the quick reply. "Power draw is massive. It needs recharge intervals. Based on atmospheric readings, next beam within two to three minutes if fired again. Cooling process is visible—see the steam trails from the mid-plates?"

"Then we have a window."

He turned, holding up the titanium vial.

"Mission complete. We got tissue, spore, pod, and reaction logs. Time to fall back."

"Copy that, Shadow 0-1," said Shadow 3. "But we've got movement. Lot of it."

Phillip turned his gaze to the surrounding buildings. He saw them too now—infected pouring out from sewer grates and alleyways, shuffling toward the Worm in a daze. Dozens. Then hundreds.

"Confirmed mass convergence," Shadow 5 said, checking his scope. "They're not attacking us—they're ignoring us. Heading for it like it's calling them."

Phillip knew it was.

"All units," he said. "Begin tactical withdrawal. We move rooftop to rooftop, low profile. Mark this area with beacon flare."

Shadow 6 stabbed a long-range marker into the road behind them—its signal pulsing upward like a heartbeat. It wouldn't last long, but it was enough for a drone or fighter to trace later.

As they turned and began sprinting toward the nearest stairwell, the Worm didn't retaliate.

It just watched.

And pulsed.

Thirty minutes later, they got extracted.

—

Back at MOA Complex, Thomas stood over the command table, drone feeds flickering.

"Status?"

Marcus looked up. "Shadow Team has secured samples. They're withdrawing now. We've confirmed—whatever that thing is, it can identify recon equipment and respond to direct contact. But there's a delay. Plasma reaction's not instant."

Thomas stared at the map. "This is a weird monster we are facing right now

Marcus frowned. "Sir?"

Thomas's jaw clenched. "You know what I mean, Marcus."

He looked to the biosample being lowered into the lab chamber beyond the glass. A sliver of crimson-black carapace, still faintly glowing.

"We dissect it," he said.

"We see what's hiding inside."