Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 189: Checking the Status of the Complex Part 2

A week after the SMX speech, five days before the system maintenance completion.

The soft hum of fluorescent lights filled the hallway as Thomas Estaris made his way through the administrative wing of the Conrad Hotel.

He stopped at a door labeled "Director of Civilian Affairs – Rebecca Langley" and knocked twice.

"Come in," a voice called.

Thomas pushed the door open. Inside, the room was surprisingly well-kept. The large desk near the center was stacked with organized folders, a map of the complex pinned across the wall with colored tags and strings. On one side, a small couch hosted a half-finished cup of tea. On the other, Rebecca Langley sat behind the desk, her glasses perched at the edge of her nose, scrolling through a digital tablet.

She looked up and smiled faintly. "Commander. To what do I owe the honor?"

Thomas stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Figured it was time I checked in on how the other half lives."

Rebecca chuckled, setting the tablet aside. "Well, if you mean the half not holding rifles and chasing infected through buildings, then yes. It's… a quieter existence."

"Walk me through it, literally."

"You are inviting me for a walk, commander?" Rebecca arched a brow, her tone dry with amusement.

Thomas gave a small smirk. "I've been in a dozen meetings this week. A walk might be the only way I stay awake."

She stood and picked up a light blazer from the back of her chair. "Well, far be it from me to deny the great commander a stroll."

"Careful," he said, holding the door open for her. "That almost sounded sarcastic."

Rebecca stepped out with him into the hallway. "Almost."

They walked in step down the corridor, the polished floor reflecting the warm lighting overhead. This section of the Conrad had been fully converted into the civic administration zone—clean, well-ventilated, and organized. It stood in stark contrast to the field bunkers and watchtowers Thomas spent most of his time around.

As they turned the corner, a soft chime rang from a nearby room. A teacher stepped out with a group of young children filing behind her in neat rows, each of them carrying small plastic trays from the daycare lunchroom.

"Afternoon, Director!" the teacher greeted with a nod.

Rebecca gave her a warm smile. "Afternoon, Mariel. How's the little hurricane squad today?"

"One tried to trade his banana for a button, so… a productive day," the teacher replied, chuckling as she guided the kids down the hall.

Thomas watched the group disappear around the corner. "I forget how many kids are in the complex now."

"Ninety-four," Rebecca said. "Three born here. One more on the way, from what I heard yesterday."

He glanced at her. "That's… more than I expected."

She nodded. "People still believe in tomorrow, Thomas. That's why they keep going."

They stepped into a secondary wing, where a cluster of staff volunteers were sorting boxes labeled footwear," and "Books." A young man with glasses offered a short salute as they passed. A few others nodded in greeting.

Rebecca gestured toward the room. "This is the Donation Redistribution Hub. Most of it comes from the stocks of malls. We started rotating stock to avoid waste, especially with clothing and medical supplies."

Thomas took note of how clean the operation was. Neatly labeled crates, digital clipboards. People looked busy but not overwhelmed.

"What's morale like?" he asked.

Rebecca shrugged slightly. "Depends who you ask. Some folks are just glad to have lights and clean water. Others still wake up every night thinking the wall's going to break. But overall? Stable."

They exited into the Conrad's east-side corridor, where a wide window overlooked the bay. The water shimmered in the late afternoon sun, the same horizon that had once seemed unreachable from the chaos of the inner city.

"Every time I walk past this window," Rebecca said, pausing, "I think about the people who never got to see this place. Whole families. Entire districts wiped out before they could even pack a bag."

Thomas didn't say anything. He didn't need to. His silence was heavy enough.

Rebecca turned to him. "But the people who made it here—they matter too. They're not just numbers on a log. They're survivors. They're builders."

They continued down the corridor and passed a door with the words "Vocational Training Center – Room A" stenciled onto it. Through the glass, they could see a group of young adults practicing basic carpentry under the guidance of an older man with calloused hands and a kind face.

Thomas slowed his steps. "We're training them?"

Rebecca nodded. "We're not just patching holes anymore, Commander. We're trying to prepare people for something more permanent. A real future."

He looked through the window, watching as a girl carefully measured a wooden plank, her brow furrowed in focus.

"You really think we can build that?" he asked quietly.

Rebecca looked at him. "What's the point of surviving, sir, if we're not going to live?"

That stuck with him.

They walked a few more steps before she led them to a small balcony overlooking the northern edge of the complex. From here, the distant skyline of Metro Manila could still be seen—blackened towers, broken overpasses, long shadows. But closer, within MOA's fortified walls, were gardens. Tents repurposed into classrooms. Repaired homes. Real people doing real things.

"Sometimes I worry we're just delaying the inevitable," Thomas said, his voice low.

Rebecca leaned on the railing. "Then delay it as long as you can. And while you're at it, give people a reason to believe that delay is worth something."

He nodded, slowly. "What do you need?"

She turned to him. "A few more volunteers for the school. More trauma counselors—if any come in with the next refugee wave, we'd be lucky. We're running low on chalk, actually, and batteries for the projectors. But more than anything, sir?"

He looked at her.

"More time."

He exhaled. "I can give you that."

A pause.

"And I'll speak to Marcus. See if we can bump civilian requests a little higher on logistics rotation. Not a lot. But enough."

Rebecca smiled. "That's all I ask."