Zombie Drone Oc Novels & Stories

I look into the bedroom. The penthouse is dark, lit only by the city glow through the massive windows. Drakon is picking up his jeans. And then, I hear it. A hum. Like a giant insect. It’s outside the glass. I look at the window. Hovering twenty feet away, level with the fifty-first floor, is a drone. It’s large. Military grade. Four rotors. And slung underneath it is a machine gun. The red light on the camera blinks. It locks onto me.

Her next small goal was clear—get that recon-and-strike drone system, no matter what. The system store showed that it was a limited offer, available for just ten more days. Hayley started crunching numbers in her head. Right now, she earned around 3,000 points a day from expanding her territory and killing zombies. Killing zombies paid way better than taking over land. But the problem was that she had already cleared out almost everything nearby. If she wanted more points, she needed to find somewhere with a lot more zombies. Opening her digital map, Hayley studied the surrounding areas carefully. Her eyes finally landed on a huge grain processing plant near the edge of the city.

Munch… Crunch… Suddenly, a chewing sound came from around the corner. Julian was stunned and poked half his head out to look. By the elevator, a zombie in a torn Armani suit was crouched on the floor, gnawing on a corpse that had long since become unrecognizable. As if it had smelled fear coming off a living person, the suited zombie suddenly went still. It slowly turned its head. Its cloudy, pale eyes locked onto Julian. A long, dark red piece of intestine was still hanging from the corner of its torn mouth.

"Dr. Cloude, two more wanderers have been discovered in Zone B7." I raised an eyebrow. "The same pair as before?" "Yes," he replied in a hushed tone. "The man is partially blind. The woman is completely zombified but still conscious. She's restrained." For the past year, Hans and Winnie had wandered like ghosts around the perimeter of various safe zones. The side effects of the first-generation vaccine had turned Winnie into a conscious zombie, while Hans stubbornly took her everywhere seeking medical help. "Should we expel them?"

Otherwise, this surprise will give her a heart-attack. After knowing the meaning of red and green dots, there are still three colors which the 3D navigation map didn’t show on the screen. She read its meaning and was stunned of her another discovery. The black dots are the zombies. Unlike red and green dots which you have to see the size of the circle of how much area or supply it have, the black dot only and simply represents one zombie. The black dots are smaller than the red and green dots. If there are many zombies, it means there many zombies around. However, Psyche Flint was curious as to why there are no black dots on the screen of 3D navigation map.

I headed to the ammunition room and Ross smiled when he saw me. “What do you need?” “Two SRS A2’s, the team’s normal pistol book out, extra magazines, and four Remington ACR’s with two magazines each,” I said to him and smiled. “And a Karambit.” Ross shook his head and smiled again. “You never go anywhere without that damn knife.” “Best knife in the world,” I said. I headed back down to the basement and found the team still standing around and talking to each other. I sat down on my bike. “Go home, get some sleep. I’ll see you all back here tonight.”

“Shit.” From the tunnels above and below, the swarm descended. Drones—sleek, silver, endless—poured into the underbelly like locusts loosed from hell. Their glassy eyes burned red with Echo’s final command, each rotor shrieking like a wasp’s wings. Needled limbs glistened with venomous current, dripping sparks that hissed as they touched the steel.

The blacksite’s reinforced ceiling began to peel open, slow but unstoppable, each segment sliding back to reveal a shaft of pale morning light. And in that light… shapes. Sleek. Inhuman. Dropping soundlessly into the chamber one by one. Julian’s voice cracked over comms, ragged. “They’re drones no” a sharp inhale “they’re him.” One landed with predator-like grace, knees bending smoothly, its surface rippling in the same oily black as Noa’s eyes. Then another. And another. The sound of their landing was almost too soft, too controlled. They stood in a perfect line, unmoving.

We can’t mourn what tried to destroy us. As I shut the incinerator, a soft hum starts in the distance. Not loud—just annoying. “Where the hell is that coming from?” Drake mutters. “No idea, but it’s obnoxious,” Layla growls. We lift a box lid—empty. Just as we’re about to move on, Drake points to the sky. “There.” A black drone hovers high above. I draw my gun, aim, and shoot. One bullet. It drops. “Nice shot,” Drake says. “Let’s hope it wasn’t a kid’s toy.”

There was no escape, but Chloe desperately clung to the hope Omar could make it out of this. "Omar, run!" The words came as a desperate cry but fell on deaf ears. It was as if she was stuck behind a giant pane of soundproof glass, watching as the scene unfolded. Everything seemed to slow down. A bird flying overhead became frozen mid-flight, the snow spraying out from under Omar's boots as he began to turn abruptly, held like a frozen wave. Something wasn't right about any of this. Why was she dreaming about this scenario? And why was there so much clarity? It was as if she was right there and yet a million miles away at the same time. Every time she blinked the scene changed but was frozen