Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse With My Military System

Richard, along with his Chief of Staff, convened once again in the meeting room on the thirty-second floor of Building A, Oriental. The muted glow of the surveillance screens taken by Northrop Grumman MQ-8 Fire Scout cast eerie shadows across their faces, giving the room an unsettling ambiance. Together, they watched the live footage transmitted from the reconnaissance drone soaring overhead, providing them with a chilling view of an ominous Goliath, a colossal monstrosity, ambling with a deliberate and menacing pace toward an unknown destination.

The Goliath, a creature etched deep into Richard's darkest nightmares, was a behemoth of destruction, an embodiment of the apocalypse itself. Its massive form moved methodically as if driven by an insatiable hunger for chaos and devastation. Aside from the lumbering titan, the drone's camera captured a nightmarish procession: a horde of zombies, their decaying limbs moving in eerie unison, marched alongside the Goliath. Hunters, agile and relentless, leaped from one crumbling building to another. Flyers, their grotesque wings silhouetted against the ashen sky, circled ominously above, completing the sinister ensemble.

Sara swiftly tapped her tablet, and the image on the television screen shifted to display the heading of the Goliath, marked with a red dotted line. The destination was unmistakable. 

"While we are heading towards here, sir, I've made an assumption. Based on the Goliath's current heading, assuming that it won't alter its course..."

Richard's eyes narrowed as he followed the trajectory on the screen. "It's heading straight for Oriental."

Everyone's face turned pale when they heard that. It was the worst news that they could have received. After all, conventional weapons weren't effective on the Goliath when they last engaged at it. Its massive shields can block missiles, its skin can take the full force of the armor-piercing rounds.

Of course, Richard had planned on killing the Goliath when his army grew enough that they could take it down through overwhelming numbers. 

Richard clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing with resolve. All eyes were on him, filled with expectation. Despite the age and expertise of the individuals in the room, they looked to him for leadership, waiting for his order.

"How long would it take for the Goliath to arrive at the Oriental?" Richard asked.

"At exactly 0001 HRS, July 28th," Sara answered. She already calculated the time of arrival using the Goliath's speed and the distance it covers for every stride.

"So at midnight?" Richard furrowed his brows and realized something. He checked his mission from his system.

[Emergency Mission] 

[A Wave is about to begin tomorrow July 28th, 2023. Ready your forces, and survive the hordes of mutated zombies!] 

There was no mistaking it; the Goliath was undoubtedly the boss of the impending wave of mutated zombies. Richard's experience with apocalyptic scenarios from video games and his deep understanding of the situation confirmed this unsettling reality. In those virtual worlds, once the boss was defeated, its subordinates would typically disperse or die in an instant the moment the boss was killed. 

Could it be the same here? 

"Sir?" Graves called, snapping Richard out of his train of thought. "We need orders. We have to do something about this Goliath." 

Richard hummed aloud, pondering what action they could take. "Okay, I have one. We have to slow the Goliath down while we prepare for the Oriental's defenses. How about we send in the Apaches?" 

"That would be too risky," Stephen, the Chief of Staff of the Air Force, interjected with a concerned tone. "The Goliath's defenses are formidable with its massive shield; it would simply block incoming missiles and secondaries. To take it down, I believe we'll have to get closer, and fire on where it's vulnerable. But going closer also posed a problem with Flyers and Hunters acting as its guard. We could risk losing our valuable assets." 

"Stephen is right," Graves concurred. "We need the Apaches to defend the Oriental when the wave starts. Sending it out there would decrease our survivability."

"Then, if we can't send the choppers, are we just going to let the Goliath come? Isn't it just the same as sending it out there? The choppers would be destroyed regardless of the situation." 

"You have a point, sir, but do you prefer having the Apaches destroyed now or later? For me sir, I'd choose the former," Stephen said. 

"Wait—" Graves interjected. "Didn't we just acquire a M142 HIMARS? How about we use it to attack the Goliath? It can fire a ballistic missile with accuracy and precision at a distance of up to 128 to 300 kilometers. It packs a punch and could obliterate a city with one salvo."

When Graves brought that up, Richard's eyes widened as if hope dawned on him. The M142 HIMARS, a High Mobility Artillery Rocket System, was a formidable weapon in their arsenal. Its ability to deliver a devastating payload with precision at a considerable distance offered a glimmer of hope in their dire situation.

"That might just work," Richard said. 

"Yes, it can work," Sara emphasized. "Since we are already watching the movement of the Goliath, I can send the exact coordinates to the crews of the HIMARS on the ground."

Richard grinned. "Let's inform the crews of the HIMARS right away." 

***

On one of the major streets of the Oriental, the HIMARS crews were having smoke outside the vehicle in silence. 

"So this is to be our base huh?" The driver commented, looking at the towering skyscrapers.

"And we will protect it with our life," The gunner said and added. "That's the reason why we are created right?" 

"True," the section chief said as he threw the buds to the floor and squashed it under his shoes. 

Then—their radio crackled. 

"Blackwatch Actual to all stations. I need the personnel who are operating the M142 HIMARS. I repeat I need the personnel operating the M142 HIMARS. Report to me asap."

"Here!" HIMARS 1 crew replied. 

"We hear you loud and clear, Actual," the HIMARS 2 crew answered.

"Ready for tasking, Actual," the HIMARS 3 crew acknowledged.

"What are we going to blow, Actual?" HIMARS 4 crew

"Actual, this is HIMARS 5 crew. We're standing by and ready for orders," came the response from the fifth HIMARS crew. 

"HIMARS personnel, for efficient communication and tasking, I will designate you all into the codename Excalibur. I need a volunteer who is willing to be the commander of the Excalibur Artillery Forces," Richard's voice crackled over the radio.

The HIMARS crews exchanged glances and then the section chief of the HIMARS 1 crew stepped forward. "I'll take the role, sir. Section chief of the HIMARS 1."

"Okay Section Chief of HIMARS 1, you shall now be henceforth called Arthur, the legend who wielded the Excalibur." 

"That's a good name sir," Arthur chuckled. "So, what's the target?" 

"We have a level 5 threat heading towards us at a snail speed, I need it to be slowed, or more preferably, downed using your arrows. Even though King Arthur uses swords…" 

"Well sir, I can assure you that our arrows are just as strong as Arthur's sword," Arthur chuckled. 

"Okay, let's stop the silly talk now, let's proceed with the mission. We are sending you the coordinates…now!" 

"Copy that, stand by for launch." 

Arthur received the coordinates from his tablet and beckoned his crews, and other crews from different HIMARS to get inside their vehicles.

Once all personnel were inside the HIMARS, the missile pod of the truck started inclining upward, positioning the missile launcher for firing. 

"Coordinates are in, targets…designated. Firing missiles in three…two…one," 

The gunner pressed the button, and immediately after, five HIMARS simultaneously fired one M48 missile each, each carrying a payload of 230 kilograms of High Explosive Blast Fragmentation warhead. The missiles streaked through the sky, leaving behind a trail of smoke that covered the whole truck.

"Whoo! That's fucking beautiful!" The gunner of the HIMARS 1 whooped in delight.

***

At the command center.

"Five missile launches have been confirmed," Sara informed. "Missiles bearing northeast at 0-7-0 degrees at Mach 3, altitude 800 meters." 

"How long till the target?" Richard asked. 

"Twelve seconds sir," Sara answered.

Everyone flickered their gazes at the screen mounted on the wall. 

"Check…Missile coming in hot," Sara announced, and from the screen, they saw a flicker of missiles hurtling through the sky towards the distant figure of the Goliath. 

"Impact in three…two…one," 

The room held its collective breath as the countdown to impact continued. The missiles, like avenging angels of destruction, homed in on their colossal target.

"Impact!" 

With earth-shattering force and a blinding series of detonations, the missiles slammed into the Goliath, creating a maelstrom of fiery explosions that blanketed the screen of the Northrop Grumman MQ-8 in white. 

On Richard's system tab, he received notifications.

[Killed 890 Walkers, 12 Hunters, 40 Flyers.]