Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 87: Oil Refinery

The Black Hawk sat on the helipad, its rotors idle but ready to spin up at a moment's notice. The dull hum of the engines filled the early morning air as the team made their final gear checks.

Thomas stood near the chopper, watching as Phillip and five Special Forces operators finished loading their weapons. They were dressed in standard combat gear—plate carriers, combat fatigues, and tactical helmets. Their weapons were a mix of MK18 carbines and M4A1 rifles, all fitted with suppressors, holographic sights, and IR lasers for night operations.

Phillip approached Thomas, adjusting the strap of his rifle. "Bird's fueled and ready. No external ordnance. We keep it clean and quiet."

Thomas nodded. "This is recon first. If we can take the refinery without a fight, we will. If it's hot, we pull back and call for air support. No unnecessary risks."

The team gathered in a semicircle near the chopper, and Thomas began the briefing.

"Alright, listen up. Our objective is the Bataan Oil Refinery. We have zero intel on what's inside. Could be empty, could be crawling with the dead, could be something worse. We're going in to assess the situation and determine if we can secure it as a permanent fuel source.

"Phillip, you're leading the ground team. I'll be on point. We move in staggered formation. Silent entry. No gunfire unless absolutely necessary."

Phillip gave a short nod. "Copy that."

Thomas continued. "Marcus will have a gunship on standby.

We're taking one Black Hawk in and one Apache for close air support. The gunship won't engage unless we call it in. Once we're in, we'll set up an overwatch position and scan for threats. We secure a landing zone, and if the refinery is clear, we call in reinforcements to hold the site."

One of the operators, Shadow 2, adjusted his gloves. "Extraction plan?"

"If things go south, we exfil the way we came in. If we get cut off, we'll move to secondary extraction at the coastline. Marcus will have a boat ready."

"Rules of engagement?" asked Shadow 3.

"Keep it quiet. We don't want to alert anything inside. If we encounter survivors, we assess if they're hostile. If they are, we neutralize. No second chances."

Thomas checked his gear one last time. "We move in five. Get set."

The team dispersed, conducting final equipment checks. Magazines were loaded, radios were tested, and suppressors were secured.

Phillip smirked slightly. "Sounds simple enough."

Thomas checked his gear one last time. "We move in five. Get set."

The team dispersed, conducting final equipment checks. Magazines were loaded, radios were tested, and suppressors were secured.

Phillip approached Thomas again. "You ready for this?"

Thomas glanced at the Black Hawk. "Let's get it done."

The Black Hawk's engines roared to life, the rotor blades picking up speed. The team boarded swiftly, strapping into their seats.

The side door remained open as Thomas took his position near the edge, rifle at the ready.

"Lifting off in five," the pilot called out over the radio.

"Overlord, this is Eagle Actual. We are on board, lifting off now," Thomas relayed over the comms.

"Copy that, Eagle Actual. Overlord on Standby," Marcus replied though radio.

The Black Hawk's rotors roared as the bird lifted into the air, banking west toward Bataan.

Thomas sat near the open side door, his rifle across his lap. Phillip and the operators—Shadow Team—sat opposite him, silent and focused. They had done this before. Recon, infiltration, threat assessment.

But this wasn't just another op.

This was about securing fuel—something their entire military operation depended on. If they pulled this off, MOA Complex would have a long-term power source. If they failed, they'd burn through their blood coins.

A voice crackled through the comms.

"Eagle Actual, this is Overlord. You are approaching AO. ETA ten minutes."

"Copy, Overlord," Thomas responded, looking at Phillip. "Final checks."

Phillip nodded and turned to Shadow Team.

"Alright, listen up. Silent infil. We drop, establish an LZ, then proceed on foot. Comms stay clean unless necessary. ROE is strict—no unnecessary engagements."

Shadow 2 ightened the strap on his vest. "Thermals picked up anything?"

Marcus came in over the radio. "Negative. No heat signatures from our scans, but that doesn't mean shit. We could be dealing with cold bodies."

Cold bodies. The infected.

Thomas glanced at the distant horizon. The refinery loomed in the distance, a massive industrial structure sitting near the coastline. Tall, skeletal towers stretched into the sky, some broken and rusted from lack of maintenance. From up here, it looked deserted.

Didn't mean it was.

"Eagle Actual, Overlord."

"Go for Eagle."

"Apache is circling five klicks out. Gunship is dark until you call it in."

"Copy that."

Thomas switched channels to the Black Hawk pilot. "Keep her steady on approach. No unnecessary noise."

"Roger, Eagle. We're coming in low."

The Black Hawk descended, skimming just above treetops as it neared the refinery. The team was already standing, hands gripping the overhead straps. Thomas checked his rifle one last time, then tapped Phillip's shoulder.

"Let's move."

The wheels touched down.

"Go, go, go!"

Shadow Team disembarked fast, rifles up, scanning their surroundings. The air smelled like oil and seawater, mixed with the faint metallic scent of rusted pipes.

The refinery was quiet. Too quiet.

Thomas and Phillip crouched near a rusted pipe, sweeping their weapons across the area.

"No movement, no element in the area."

Shadow 3 raised his rifle, scanning the upper walkways. "Clear up top."

Phillip glanced at Thomas. "Call it in?"

Thomas keyed his mic.

"Overlord, this is Eagle Actual. LZ secure. Holding position."

"Copy, Eagle. Keep us posted."

Thomas lowered his rifle slightly but didn't relax. He turned to Phillip.

"Alright. Let's move in."

This was the easy part.

The hard part was inside.

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Thomas signaled to Shadow Team, and they moved forward in staggered formation, keeping low as they advanced toward the refinery's main entrance.

Phillip took point, leading the team through the outer yard. Their boots crunched lightly against the gravel, the only sound aside from the distant waves crashing against the coastline.

"Shadow 1, take left. Shadow 2, you're on overwatch." Thomas whispered into his comms.

"Copy."

As they approached the main processing building, a faint noise echoed from inside—metal shifting, something moving.

The refinery wasn't abandoned.