Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse

"TINIO!" he shouted, voice cracked with urgency.

Tinio jolted awake, confused, blinking as he sat upright. "What the hell, man—?"

"We got zombies! In the hallway!" Delgado barked, already limping for the nearest supply locker.

Tinio's blood ran cold.

"The hell are you talking about? That was bodybags, they—" He stopped mid-sentence when he caught sight of movement beyond the med bay door.

Three bloodied figures rounded the corner at a sprint.

And they weren't shambling.

They were fast.

"Fuck—get something! Anything!" Delgado yelled, wrenching open the locker. He found a fire axe—a short-handled emergency tool—its blade still clean and sharp.

Tinio didn't hesitate. He grabbed a heavy IV pole and ripped off the fluid bags, gripping it like a spear. "What the fuck is going on?! How are they even in here?!"

"I don't know!" Delgado shouted. "But that's nurse's uniform on the one in front!"

They braced themselves just as the first infected slammed into the doorway. The automatic doors didn't even get a chance to close.

Delgado swung the axe in a downward arc, catching the attacker in the collarbone. Bone cracked, blood sprayed, but the thing didn't fall—it shrieked and clawed, swiping for his face.

Tinio lunged forward with the pole, slamming the tip into its ribs and shoving it back. The force knocked it into the second infected, slowing their charge.

"ALARM! GET THE ALARM!" Tinio shouted.

But there was no alarm.

No panic sirens.

Nothing.

Whatever infected these things had bypassed the sensors. Or worse—they'd come from inside the secure zones.

The second infected lunged. Tinio stepped back and swung again, this time catching it in the leg. It buckled, but clawed forward with a hand like a hooked blade. Delgado stomped forward with his good foot and buried the axe in its neck.

The body collapsed, twitching.

The third turned and bolted—toward the hallway leading to the rest of the infirmary.

"SHIT! IT'S RUNNING!" Tinio yelled.

Delgado limped to the wall console, fingers slamming into the emergency panel.

Nothing.

"No power. We're in low-light lockdown mode. The AI didn't flag the breach."

"Then we make noise!"

He grabbed a metal bedpan and hurled it down the hallway, where it clanged and echoed like a dinner bell.

Shadow 3 was on patrol duty near the generator wing when he heard the echo.

"Hold up," he said, raising his fist to the two other Shadows with him.

"What is it?" asked Shadow 7.

"That wasn't ambient. That was intentional. Metal on tile."

He clicked his comms.

"Actual, this is Shadow Three. We may have a breach in the med sector. Requesting confirmation—there's no alarm but something feels off."

Inside Thomas's room, Thomas turned from his monitor.

"Shadow Three, say again?"

"Unconfirmed audio anomaly. Med wing."

Cruz frowned, flicking through the Reaper surveillance grid. "Nothing on the thermals outside."

Thomas, who was reviewing grid files at his station, stood slowly. "Switch to internal cams."

"Already trying," Cruz muttered, fingers racing.

But most cams in the med bay had gone dark.

Only a single feed came up—one shaky angle showing flickering hallway lights and a bloody smear against the wall.

Thomas stared.

Then keyed the master line.

"Eagle Actual to all stations, breach confirmed in the south med wing. Unspecified infected presence I authorizes Code Red. Engage and contain."

Delgado and Tinio had barricaded the main door with a hospital gurney and overturned bed frames. Blood stained the floor. Two infected lay still—but they didn't trust it enough to relax.

Tinio was pacing, breathing heavy. "Where the hell is the response team?"

"They'll be coming," Delgado said, panting. "I made sure someone heard us. They always come."

He heard it then—boots.

Fast. Heavy. Tactical.

Then came the radio.

"Shadow Team to med wing. Break in thirty seconds. Sitrep?"

Delgado grabbed the radio and keyed it, voice hoarse. "Two down, one ran. Kayla's one of them. They turned. I don't know how—they were bagged. I think they came back."

The channel went silent for a second.

Then: "Copy. Stand clear of door. Breach incoming."

BOOM.

The door burst inward. Smoke and light filled the room. Then came the Shadows.

Phillip entered first, rifle raised, scanning every angle with trained precision. The rest of the team followed—lethal shadows moving as one.

"Med bay secure," Shadow 2 called.

Phillip moved straight to Delgado and Tinio.

"You two good?"

"We're alive," Tinio said. "But Kayla's gone. She opened the morgue."

Phillip's eyes narrowed. "We need to check the refrigeration unit."

Delgado nodded, eyes wide. "That's where the bodies were taken. The ones we brought back."

Phillip keyed his comm.

"Shadow 6, Shadow 9—containment sweep. Morgue and corridor. Assume hostile."

The corridors beyond the med bay were bathed in flickering light. Red emergency strips lined the walls, casting the tiles in a low, pulsing glow that seemed to make the bloodstains shine even darker. Phillip took point, moving through the hallway with deliberate steps. Shadow 2 and 5 flanked him tight, barrels up, scanning every shadow, every blind corner.

Ahead, the morgue door loomed—its magnetic seal broken, left half-open.

"Movement?" Phillip asked into the comms.

"Negative," came Shadow 6's voice. "Thermals are inconsistent. Too much interference from the cold storage. Could be residual heat signatures."

"Stack on me," Phillip ordered, leveling his rifle.

Shadows 6 and 9 appeared from the adjacent junction, both crouched low. They joined the stack without a word. Standard Overwatch breach formation—Phillip center, two rifles wide, one on rear security.

"Clear right," he whispered.

"Clear left."

"Kick it."

Shadow 5 booted the morgue door with a metallic crash, and they flowed in fast.

Flashlights cut through the darkness.

Phillip's nose curled instantly. "Jesus…"

The room was wrecked. Blood smeared across the white-tiled floor like some artist's fever dream. Gurneys overturned. The refrigeration units hanging open. One of the five body bags lay half unzipped, torn from the inside.

But the bodies were there.

Slumped. Motionless.

Or what remained of them.

"Contact front—down!" Shadow 6 called, lowering his rifle.

The bodies of the reanimated soldiers were mangled, shredded by blunt force and fire axes. One still twitched—a faint spasm in its leg—until Shadow 2 stepped forward and placed a suppressed round between its eyes.

Silence followed.

Phillip exhaled slowly. "All targets down. Repeat—all hostiles neutralized in the morgue."

He keyed his comms.

"Shadow to Eagle Actual. Med wing secure. Morgue sweep complete. Five KIA—former KIA. Targets reanimated and attacked staff. Two friendlies in med bay, still breathing. One nurse deceased, turned, confirmed KIA. We're secure."

The comms crackled.

Thomas's voice came through, calm and clipped.

"Copy that, Shadow. Good work. Maintain perimeter until cleanup arrives. Reaper confirms no new contacts. I'm initiating sector lockdown. Med wing is now red-status. Quarantine protocol alpha."

"Understood," Phillip responded, already motioning for his team to hold the corridor. "We'll hold until relieved."