Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse With My Military System

121 Wrapping Up

September 16th, three o'clock in the afternoon—the sun bore down over the landscape, its rays reflecting off the fuselage of a Boeing CH-47 Chinook as it cut a determined path through the skies near the TPLEX.

Inside the dual-rotor craft, the cockpit was a bastion of controlled urgency. "Two mikes to LZ," came the clipped, authoritative voice of the pilot. His hands were steady on the thrust levers.

"Eagle Actual to Iron Horse, we copy," Richard's voice responded over the comms, the connection crackling slightly under the strain of distance. "Be advised, tangoes are still lying on the ground, dead but do proceed with caution."

"Roger that, Eagle Actual," his eyes scanned the gauges and the terrain ahead.

Two minutes later, the landscape of the expressway was marked with craters and blackened scars from the earlier engagement.

"Eagle Actual, visual on the LZ," the pilot relayed, his voice steady, betraying none of the tension that tightened within the confines of the cockpit.

The Chinook's descent was by the book, its rotors beating a steady rhythm as the craft aligned with the designated landing zone. Despite the previous confirmations of enemy inactivity, every crew member remained alert, their senses sharpened for any signs of a threat.

"Prepare for dust-off," the pilot instructed, the term signaling the imminent landing and rapid unloading.

The crew's response was immediate and practiced, each man bracing for the turbulent cloud of dust and debris that the Chinook's powerful rotors would kick up upon touchdown.

Within moments, "Iron Horse" touched down, the impact sending a shock through the heavy frame of the helicopter. The ramp at the rear of the Chinook dropped open, revealing the charred and upheaved earth of the landing zone.

"Go, go, go!" shouted the crew chief, ushering the ten soldiers out into the open, their boots hitting the ground with purpose. They fanned out, securing the perimeter as the Chinook's engines continued to whine, ready to lift off at the first sign of trouble.

The pilot kept the engines running, the cockpit now a watchtower over the potential battlefield. "Iron Horse" was a lifeline back to base, and it wouldn't cut its engines until every soldier it delivered was accounted for and the area secured.

As the last of the troops exited, the Chinook's crew remained vigilant, their eyes glued to the surroundings and the instruments.

Five of the soldiers approached the bodies of Tango, Violet, and Seo-Jun. They were unconscious, and bleeding, and some of their body parts eviscerated and dismembered.

"Well, this means human technology does well against magic users," one of the soldiers remarked.

"You know their species can regenerate right? Aren't you briefed about this?" a medic added as he knelt beside the nearest body, checking for signs of life.

"Yeah, but it'll take time. We've got the upper hand for now," the first soldier replied, his eyes never leaving the figures on the ground.

The medics worked quickly, assessing the vitals of the downed individuals. They had to determine if they were truly dead and not pretending.

Upon checking their pulses, the medical officer glanced over his shoulder and reported.

"There's still a purse but it is faint."

16:34

"There's still a purse but it is faint."

"Copy that. Put them on the body bag and get going," the squad leader, Graves, instructed crisply. "We need to get them secured and out of here before that regeneration kicks in."

The medics swiftly moved to comply, each movement deliberate and focused. They zipped up the injured individuals in body bags.

The medical team, with the help of the other soldiers, carried the heavy bags back to the helicopter.

The squad leader gave a hand signal, and the pilot nodded.

"This is Specter-1, package is secure, hopping on the helicopter and ready for extraction," Graves reported into his radio, as the soldiers finished securing the bags and climbed aboard the Chinook.

"Roger that, Specter-1. We're on standby for your arrival," came the reply from Richard.

With a new sense of urgency, the pilot lifted the Chinook off the ground. The sound of the rotors filled the air as the helicopter rose and turned back toward the base. The flight was smooth, and the soldiers were silent, each man lost in his own thoughts about the mission and its unusual targets.

The medics kept a watchful eye on the body bags, ensuring that the contained individuals showed no signs of waking. If any regeneration began, they were prepared to administer more sedatives, keeping the magic users incapacitated.

As they approached the base, the security team on the ground was visible, forming a perimeter around the landing zone. The helicopter descended, and once it touched down, the rotors slowly came to a halt.

Graves was the first to disembark, followed by his team, who moved with precision to offload the body bags onto waiting gurneys. The security team escorted them to the high-security containment facility designed for situations like this.

Inside the facility, a new team took over.

"Be careful on that, they may wake up any moment," Graves warned the new team, emphasizing the need for caution.

"We got it. Thank you for picking them up. You know our boss is keen on understanding these people with magical abilities," one of the facility team members replied.

The new team wheeled the gurneys into a specially designed containment area. This section of the facility was built to hold and study individuals with supernatural abilities. The walls were reinforced, and the rooms were fitted with advanced monitoring equipment to observe and record every detail of the captives' conditions and abilities.

Graves stayed behind for a moment, watching as the team moved the gurneys into the containment cells. He wanted to make sure that if anything happened out of the ordinary, his team could respond quickly.

Upon confirming that there was no movement whatsoever, Graves signaled his men to withdraw.

***

Meanwhile, at the Ayala North Exchange Tower 1, at the main gates. Richard was hugging his little sister, Lisa as they were preparing to embark on their first field mission which was scavenging for supplies outside the Oriental Camp.

"Are you sure brother that there's nothing we should be concerned about? Earlier, the early warning device bell rang…" Lisa asked concernedly.

"There's no need, the threat has been dealt with. You can rest assured that no harm will fall upon the camp."

"Well if you say so, brother."

"Just remember, if there's anything that comes your way that can't be defeated, like the mutated zombies. You contact me immediately, okay?"

"Okay," Lisa nodded, trying to muster a confident smile.

Richard gave her a reassuring pat on the back before he turned to address her classmates.

"You watch your backs out there," he said, his tone firm but encouraging. "Remember your training, and keep communication lines open. No heroics—we stick together."

The group nodded, some with visible nerves, others with determination etched on their youthful faces. They were all too aware of the dangers that lay beyond the safety of the camp's walls.

With that, they left using the JLTV Oshkosh.

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