I Have a Modern Weapon Gacha System in the Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 6: A New Purpose

Adrian was able to sleep inside the convenience store and woke up at six o’clock in the morning.

He yawned as he lifted his upper body and checked his phone. It was a habit of his after waking up. But it was kind of useless since his promo data had expired. He could still surf for free, though.

So he opened Messenger and checked who had chatted with him yesterday.

Group chats flooded the screen. Over ninety-nine messages. The last timestamp was yesterday evening. After that, silence.

He didn’t open them.

He already knew what they would be. Panic. Rumors. Half-confirmed sightings. People asking if anyone was alive, then no one answering.

He backed out.

His mother’s chat sat near the top.

Unread.

That made his thumb stop.

He opened it.

The message was short.

[Adrian, are you okay?

Where are you now?

Have you heard from Bea?]

The timestamp said yesterday, late afternoon. How would he tell them that Bea was gone?

Adrian stared at the screen until the letters blurred.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard.

He typed.

I’m okay.

He stopped.

Deleted it.

Typed again.

I’m safe right now.

That stayed.

The cursor blinked under it, waiting.

Where are you now?

He answered that first.

"Still in QC. I found a place to stay for the night."

Then his eyes went back to the last line.

Have you heard from Bea?

His jaw tightened.

He remembered the green tiara.

The weight under his palm. The snap of the shot. The way he didn’t look after.

His finger trembled once. He steadied it against the screen. They deserved to know the truth.

He typed slowly.

"I went to her school. It was already overrun. I found her... but she was already infected."

The cursor blinked.

He added one more line.

"I’m sorry."

His thumb pressed send.

The message went through instantly.

No typing bubble came back.

Adrian locked the phone and let his arm drop.

Then his phone chimed.

He immediately brought his phone up and saw the message.

"Bea is gone?!"

The words sat bright on the screen.

Adrian’s grip tightened around the phone.

Another message came right after.

"No... no... Adrian, tell me you’re joking."

"I am not joking," he replied. "How are you guys doing there? Is it safe there?"

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

Stopped.

Appeared again.

"Yes we are safe here. They were called zombies but the authorities had put them down. We are now in our hotel for quarantine."

"What hotel?" he typed.

The bubble came back right away.

"City Garden," his mother replied.

"They moved us here with other families. Military and police are guarding the lobby."

"Are you locked in a room?" he asked.

"Yes," she wrote.

"They told us not to leave unless escorted."

Another message followed.

"They checked everyone before we came in."

Adrian’s jaw tightened.

"Anyone bitten?" he typed.

"No," she answered.

He leaned back against the convenience store wall and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

"I’ll try to come there," Adrian said.

"Come here? How?"

His thumb hovered for a second.

"I’ll think of a way," he typed.

Three dots appeared.

"That’s dangerous," his mother replied. "The roads are bad. People are saying there are more of them outside."

"I know," he wrote back. "I will be careful. I want to be there with you."

"No, what if you encounter the zombies? I can’t lose you son, you better stay where you are right now and wait for the authorities."

"I don’t think they’ll even come. Imagine having to rescue millions of people in Metro Manila alone Ma. And if I stay here it’s just the same as dying alone," he finished.

The message sat there for a second before the typing bubble returned.

"You don’t know that," his mother replied.

"They said help is coming. They’re organizing evacuations."

"Maybe," he typed. "But I can’t sit still."

"Please," she wrote."Just stay alive. That’s all I’m asking."

"I will," he answered.

Another bubble.

"We love you."

His throat tightened.

"Love you too," he sent.

The chat went quiet.

Adrian stared at the screen a moment longer, then locked it and slid the phone into his pocket.

Time to get out.

Adrian stowed his machine gun to his inventory and pulled out the shotgun. It’s easier to handle than the machine gun and lighter on his arms.

He racked the pump once.

Chk-chak.

He was ready and went to the entrance which was blocked by the roll-up. He crouched down and pulled it up. It made a screeching sound that was so loud that any zombies within the area would hear it.

Seconds later, the roll-ups were now rolled and the view of the morning streets. It was still the same as yesterday. His motorcycle was still there and it was quiet. Normally, there’d be people to and fro, starting their day.

It truly had changed even though it hasn’t been a full day yet.

Now, Boracay. Usually to get to the island you’d need to book a ticket either by ship or by plane. It’s in the Visayas region and given that it is an island, getting there wouldn’t be too easy.

So he’d take the land route.

It was the only option that made sense.

No way flights were still running. Ferries were worse. A crowded terminal was a death trap now. Land gave him control. Roads meant he could turn back, detour, or fight through.

He stepped fully outside and scanned again.

Adrian walked to the motorcycle, shotgun hanging low but ready. He checked the mirrors, then the street behind him. Nothing closing in.

He swung onto the seat.

The engine started on the first twist.

The sound carried far in the empty morning. He watched the sidewalks for movement. A curtain fluttered in a second-floor window. A loose sign creaked. No infected rushed him.

He rolled forward.

The first few blocks passed without incident. Cars sat abandoned at odd angles. Some doors were open. A delivery truck blocked half a lane, its cargo bay wide open and empty.

People had run.

He kept his speed controlled. Fast enough to move. Slow enough to react.

At the next intersection, he saw motion.

Two zombies staggered out from between parked vehicles. Their heads turned toward the engine. They started toward him.

Adrian raised the shotgun with one hand.

Boom.

The first one dropped. The second stumbled over it. He swerved around both and continued without slowing.

He needed direction.

Boracay meant south. He’d have to push out of the city, find a highway, and keep moving until the roads stopped or the fuel did.

Fuel.

He glanced at the gauge.

Still good, but not enough for a long haul.

He’d need to siphon or find a station. Another problem for later.

A cluster of vehicles blocked the next stretch. He slowed and threaded through the gap.

The city opened ahead into a wider avenue. Fewer obstacles. He accelerated slightly, wind pushing against his chest.

Then he heard it.

Groaning.

A group emerged from a side street. Five. Maybe six. They spilled into the lane, drawn by the engine.

No room to weave.

He braked just enough to stabilize, raised the shotgun.

Boom.

One fell.

Boom.

Another.

The rest stumbled, confused by the bodies dropping in front of them. He throttled forward and slipped through the gap before they recovered.

He didn’t look back.

Every shot cost him shells. Every stop cost him time. He couldn’t clear the city. He just needed to pass through it.

Fortunately, he knew the way to the south, otherwise he’d have to rely on gps which wouldn’t work without data. Wait, speaking of data, communications infrastructure won’t usually fall down that easily. He just have to load his account in a convenience store that has a terminal loading.

Adrian kept the motorcycle moving while scanning storefronts.

A few blocks ahead, he spotted one.

A convenience store with its lights still on.

The glass door was shut, but not shattered. No bodies pressed against it. No movement inside. Shelves looked intact through the window.

He slowed, rolled to the curb, and killed the engine.

Silence fell again.

He listened.

Nothing close.

The shotgun stayed low but ready as he approached. He tested the door.

Unlocked.

He pushed it open just enough to slip inside, muzzle leading. The hinges creaked, loud in the quiet store.

He paused.

No footsteps rushed him. No groans answered.

He moved straight for the counter. The terminal sat there, screen glowing with the loading interface. Signal bars blinked in the corner.

Still connected.

Good.

He keyed in his number from memory.

e selected the smallest load option. No need to waste time.

The machine processed.

One second.

Two.

Transaction complete.

His phone vibrated in his pocket almost immediately.

He pulled it out. Signal bars full. Data icon active.

GPS alive.

He opened Facebook.

The feed refreshed and flooded his screen.

The first post was a live stream. The title read:

"OUTBREAK IN CEBU — STAY INSIDE"

He tapped it.

The camera shook as someone filmed from a balcony. Smoke rose from the street below. A jeepney sat sideways across an intersection. Bodies moved around it — too fast, too jerky.

A man screamed off-camera.

The filmer whispered, "They’re still coming... they’re still coming..."

One of the infected sprinted into view and slammed into the building entrance. The stream cut to black.

Connection lost.

Adrian scrolled.

Another clip autoplayed. This one tagged Davao City.

Police trucks blocked a highway. Officers fired in controlled bursts. Civilians ran between vehicles. One infected broke through the line. An officer hesitated half a second too long.

The infected tackled him.

The camera jerked away as someone shouted.

The post caption read:

"Containment failed. Do NOT approach checkpoints."

He kept scrolling.

Emergency graphics filled the feed — reposted government alerts stamped in red.

NATIONAL EMERGENCY BULLETIN

Stay indoors. Avoid contact with infected individuals.

Do not travel unless instructed.

Await evacuation orders.

Comments below it moved faster than he could read.

They’re already inside the mall—

No rescue came—

My brother got bitten—

They’re lying—

Another video.

Manila.

The skyline looked familiar. Helicopters circled low. One veered sharply, smoke trailing from the tail. It disappeared behind a building.

People in the comments argued whether it crashed.

No confirmation followed.

A shared post climbed to the top of the feed. It had thousands of reactions.

A photo of a hospital corridor.

Beds lined the walls. Patients strapped down. Staff in improvised protective gear. A handwritten sign taped to the wall read:

NO MORE ROOM

Caption:

"We lost the ER. They’re turning. Do not bring anyone here."

Adrian’s jaw tightened.

He refreshed again.

International posts now.

Bangkok — riots near evacuation zone.

Seoul — subway sealed after outbreak inside station.

Sydney — airport lockdown breached.

Each post carried the same pattern.

Crowds.

Gunfire.

Running.

He opened one tagged GLOBAL ALERT.

A text-only statement scrolled across a black background:

Multiple regions report containment failure.

Civilian movement increases infection spread.

Shelter in place.

Await military directive.

The timestamp was fifteen minutes old.

Someone commented under it:

There is no directive. They’re gone.

The reply count climbed by the second.

Adrian exited the post and stared at the feed.

Every refresh added more footage. More warnings. More voices cutting off mid-sentence.

No success stories.

No rescue confirmations. It was as if the world had descended into chaos.

Adrian forced himself to stop scrolling.

Raw footage only told him what he already knew.

Everything was burning.

He needed something official.

He tapped the search bar and typed:

outbreak official statement

Results filled the screen. Government reposts. News clips. Panic threads. He scrolled past them and refined the search.

WHO outbreak

The World Health Organization page appeared near the top.

Verified badge.

Millions of followers.

He opened it.

The header loaded slowly.

The last post sat pinned at the top.

"Monitoring reports of a rapidly spreading neurological infection...Wait that’s it? Did they collapse or something?"

Well, at least he now knows that the world has officially gone to shit, and everyone is to themselves.

All the more reason that he must get to Boracay and reunite with his family. The journey would take about half a day in a normal world, but since it has changed, it’ll be a day or two, depending on the conditions of the roads and the zombies along the route.

"Okay...let’s go."