Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 59: A Casual Chat with Erica

Thomas stood near the floor-to-ceiling window, his hands resting on the cracked glass as he gazed out at the ruined cityscape. Fires still burned in the distance, illuminating the skeletal remains of collapsed buildings. The night had turned eerily quiet, save for the occasional distant explosion or burst of gunfire from MOA's defensive lines.

His eyes narrowed as he noticed something unusual.

A large mass of zombies was sprinting toward the MOA complex at an unnatural speed. Their movements weren't the sluggish, aimless shuffling of regular infected. These ones were driven. Determined.

They were running toward something.

Toward someone.

Erica stepped up beside him, her bat resting against her shoulder as she followed his gaze. Her expression darkened. "I've been noticing that lately," she said. "They don't just wander anymore. They move like they've got a purpose."

Thomas didn't respond.

Because he knew where they were heading.

MOA.

His men.

They were still fighting.

The battle wasn't over.

He clenched his fists, knowing there was nothing he could do from here. Not yet.

He needed to get back.

But first, they had to survive the night.

Thomas let out a quiet breath and pulled away from the window, moving toward the office chair in the center of the room. He sat down with a sigh, his body finally catching up to the exhaustion weighing on him.

Erica leaned against the desk, watching him carefully.

"You fight like you've done it a thousand times," Thomas said, looking up at her. "That bat isn't just for show."

Erica smirked slightly. "I played baseball when I was a kid," she said. "Didn't think it would help me survive the apocalypse, though."

"Guess you got lucky having a bat in your office," he replied.

She scoffed. "Lucky? That's one way to put it." Her smirk faded slightly. "If I didn't have it, I'd be dead."

Silence settled between them for a moment before she tilted her head slightly, studying him again.

"You hungry?" she asked.

Thomas glanced at her, noting the slight hesitation in her voice. The way she avoided direct eye contact.

She was reluctant to even offer it.

He saw the way she had rationed everything in this office, keeping it orderly despite the chaos outside. She had been surviving here alone for a long time, and resources were scarce.

Thomas didn't want to take anything from her, not if she needed it more.

Instead, he asked, "Do you have water?"

Erica nodded. "Yeah. But only six bottles left."

She turned toward a filing cabinet, pulling open the top drawer and grabbing a half-full bottle. She hesitated for a second before tossing it to him.

"I've been rationing it," she admitted. "We'll have to share."

Thomas nodded, taking a small sip before handing it back to her. "I can manage."

Erica took a sip herself before placing the bottle back in the drawer. She sat on the desk, exhaling. "So, Thomas… what's your story?"

Thomas leaned back in the chair, thinking for a moment. He couldn't exactly tell her the truth.

"I was a high school student," he said simply.

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Erica blinked, staring at him as if he had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. "Bullshit."

Thomas smirked. "Why's that?"

"Because you look like you're in the damn military," she said, motioning to his tactical vest and his well-built frame. "You fight like a soldier. Move like one, too. And your face? No way in hell you're a high schooler."

Thomas chuckled. He had noticed it himself. His face had matured, his body stronger and more defined. Possibly a side effect of the system.

He decided to take it as a compliment.

"Well, I'll take that as a good thing," he said.

Erica shook her head, still in disbelief. "High school, huh? That's insane."

Thomas shrugged. "What about you? How have you been handling life here?"

Erica scoffed. "Badly," she admitted. "But I don't really have a choice, do I?"

She leaned forward slightly, watching him closely. "Before I answer that, tell me something first. What were you doing before you ended up in this building?"

Thomas exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Got kidnapped."

Erica's eyes widened. "What?"

"One of those flying things," Thomas clarified. "A Reaper. Grabbed me mid-battle. Carried me away. I managed to kill it, but we crashed here."

Erica stared at him in shock. "There are flying zombies?"

Thomas nodded. "Yeah."

She muttered a curse under her breath, gripping her bat tighter. "That's just fucking fantastic."

Then her gaze shifted slightly. "Wait—you said mid-battle? You were fighting zombies before you got here?"

Thomas nodded again.

Erica's suspicion returned. "Who were you fighting with?"

Thomas hesitated.

He couldn't just tell her he had a private military force holding the line at MOA. That would raise too many questions, ones he wasn't ready to answer.

Instead, he gave her just enough.

"My group," he said simply.

Erica frowned. "Your group?"

Thomas nodded. "We were clearing out the area. Then I got grabbed."

She studied him for a moment, trying to decide if he was lying.

Finally, she exhaled. "Huh. Didn't think anyone else was still fighting back."

Thomas didn't respond.

Because he knew the truth.

His men weren't just fighting back.

They were holding the front lines of an entire war.

Erica stretched her arms, letting out a small sigh before pushing off the desk. She grabbed her bat and set it against the wall before turning back to Thomas.

"We should get some sleep," she said. "We need to be at full strength tomorrow."

Thomas nodded. His body was screaming for rest, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep soundly. His mind was still at MOA, still thinking about his men, still wondering if they were holding the line.

Erica pointed toward the couch. "I'll sleep first. You keep watch."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Just like that? You trust me?"

She scoffed. "No. But I don't have a choice."

She walked toward the couch and sat down, adjusting a small backpack to use as a makeshift pillow. But before she laid down, she shot him a sharp glare. "Just so we're clear—if you try anything while I'm asleep, I will kill you."

Thomas let out a tired chuckle. "I won't touch you."

Erica narrowed her eyes, as if trying to detect any deception, but after a moment, she exhaled. "Good."

She laid back, turning to face the couch, her bat still within arm's reach.

Thomas sat down on the chair, resting his arms on his knees.

He kept his gaze on the door, listening to the distant sounds of zombies roaming the halls outside.

Minutes passed.

Then hours.

Thomas remained still, focused. He had been in battles before, had fought through exhaustion, had forced himself to keep moving when his body begged for rest. This was no different.

At some point, Erica stirred, her voice groggy. "Your turn."

Thomas glanced at her as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Get some rest," she muttered. "I'll wake you if something happens."

Thomas hesitated for a moment but eventually stood up. "Alright."

He moved toward the couch, sitting down before leaning his head back.

Erica sat on the chair, her bat across her lap, her eyes locked on the door.

Thomas let out a slow breath and, for the first time in what felt like forever, allowed himself to close his eyes.