Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse With My Military System

"What's one more thing?" The Boss inquired. 

"Oy, Mark," Graves tapped Mark on the elbow and whispered. "What do you mean there's one more thing? The deal is done, what are you planning?"

"Our commanding officer said that he wanted to rescue more civilians from the Boss," Mark whispered back, informing him of the plan. 

"I see," Graves nodded in understanding. The two weeks weren't enough time to gather as many civilians without risking a leak, though the plan was compromised from the start when Maria decided to betray him.

Speaking of Maria, Graves looked up at the building and saw Maria standing at the edge of the rooftop, looking down with a shocked expression. She must have regretted betraying him after seeing that their camp was superior in terms of military power. 

Well, she deserved it. She used her innocent facade so he could pity her. Graves inwardly scoffed at the thought of it. Maria had played her cards, and he had fallen for it, but no more.

Mark cleared his throat, pulling Graves from his thoughts. The Boss was waiting for an explanation. There was no room for sentimentality at this moment. 

"If you don't mind, we'd like to acquire more civilians from your camp," Mark revealed. "Of course, we will pay you with what we have agreed upon, plus extra for your generosity."

The Boss's expression turned to skepticism. He wasn't the type to make decisions based on sentiments; every move was calculated for maximum benefit.

"And what makes you think I'll agree to this?" The Boss asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

"Because we're offering you something that's hard to come by these days," Mark responded confidently. "We have more supplies and equipment, and we're willing to trade them for the civilians. In fact, we are willing to give you one of these brand-new JLTV Oshkosh for the added mobility of your troops." 

As they were talking, the sound of the helicopter rotors pierced through their conversation. It was the Chinook, hovering above, ready to pick up the survivors.

The Boss, Mark, and Graves looked up; their attention momentarily diverted. The survivors that the Boss had released were quickly ushered towards the helicopter. Of course, it had a limited capacity so others were directed to the M939 trucks that the Oriental Blackwatch PMC had brought with them.

The Boss evaluated the ongoing situation with a keen eye. Every individual and every asset was a resource, and in the apocalypse, resources were the currency of survival. Why would a private militia want to take in more civilians? Isn't that counterproductive, considering the extra mouths to feed and the increased need for resources? The Boss was not one to act without weighing every consequence. He allowed his eyes to roam over Mark and Graves, attempting to decipher their motives. Something didn't add up, but the immediate benefit of the deal before him was too substantial to be ignored. 

"If you are that willing to pay a premium for useless people, then I'd need double of what I received, plus three JLTV Oshkosh with fuel supply that could fill the tanks of the Oshkosh three times." 

"Okay deal," Mark said without hesitation.

"EH?" The Boss was taken aback at the sudden agreement of the man before him. Are they serious? They are willing to give that much resources to civilians? The Boss's suspicion grew, but the prospect of acquiring more resources overruled his doubts, at least for the moment. This could significantly bolster his camp's defense and sustainability.

"How many people do you want to take in?" The Boss asked.

"How about five hundred? Of course, those five hundred must decide on their own will. We will not take someone who doesn't want to come with us," Mark answered. His reply was calculated; taking unwilling civilians could lead to problems down the line, something they wanted to avoid.

The Boss squinted at Mark; his offer was too good, his agreement too quick. In this world of scarcity and survival, no one parted with resources easily. But if they were willing to pay, who was he to question it further? He gave a nod of approval, his mind already churning with plans on how to utilize the acquired resources to strengthen his camp.

In the meantime, the Three Chinook started loading the second batch of the three hundred survivors. 

"Okay, I'm going to make an announcement," The Boss said. "If you could kindly let me use that megaphone of yours." 

"Sure," Mark handed it over. The Boss lifted the megaphone to his mouth and addressed the camp.

"Attention everyone," he began. The noise in the camp died down as people turned their attention towards him. "These people are offering a chance for anyone who wishes to leave with them. They promise safety and resources. If you want to go, step forward. But remember, once you leave, there's no coming back. The rules that I imposed wouldn't be enforced so there's no need to fear." 

A mix of murmurs spread through the crowd. In this world of uncertainty and danger, the prospect of safety was alluring but stepping into the unknown was also terrifying.

***

Two hours later, the civilians living in the World's Resort Manila who chose to leave lined up outside, their belongings hastily packed, eyes filled with a mix of hope and apprehension. Mark, Graves, and their team were ready to escort them back to their base. 

The Boss watched the proceedings, his mind still calculating the benefits and potential risks of this sudden and unexpected deal. He had been wondering ever since why they were taking in more civilians, it just doesn't make sense to him. 

"It will take another hour to process everyone," The Boss said. "Good grief, your organization is a mystery." 

Mark simply smiled. He doesn't want to receive compliments from a psychopathic individual and a rapist. He may seem normal on the outside but he is corrupted on the inside. Talking to him was a challenge but necessary.

"We have our reasons," Mark replied tersely. 

As the civilians boarded the convoy, soldiers from the Oriental Blackwatch PMC stood guard outside the World's Resort Manila, taking down zombies with the help of the militia that came near the resort. 

"I guess this is where we say goodbye," Mark said. 

"Yeah it is," The Boss said. 

***

Meanwhile, orbiting the World's Resort Manila in the air was the AC-130J Spooky. The fire control officer watched the meeting unfold on the ground, his fingers itching for a trigger. This must be the time when they'll display the power of the AC-130J. Yet everything was silent—until.

"What is that?" The fire control officer squinted at the screen before him. The resolution was clear, yet he found it hard to believe what he was seeing. The concrete-paved road was not just bulging - it was undulating rhythmically, like the surface of a waterbed.

"All stations, this is Spooky-1. We may have something over here." 

On the ground, the convulsions of the concrete became more pronounced. The Boss, Mark, and the others felt the ground shake as if there was an earthquake.

At the command center, Richard mumbled a curse. "What the hell is that?"