Chapter 92: Landing on Korea
The flight was ten minutes of full silence as there were no more bogeys in the area.
Adrian hoped that would be the case as another F-35 would mean they’ll be shot down with no chance of defending themselves.
Moments later, the pilot spoke.
"Sir, I have eyes on Camp Humphreys," the pilot said.
Adrian stepped forward slightly, looking through the cockpit windshield.
At first, it looked intact.
Runways stretched across the ground, long and clear from this distance. Hangars stood in place, though some had visible damage. Scorch marks, collapsed sections, broken roofs.
"Sentinel Eye, confirm ground activity," Adrian said.
"Cold Reach One, Sentinel Eye," the AWACS replied. "Thermal readings indicate scattered movement across the base perimeter. Concentrations increasing near runway zones."
Ryan narrowed his eyes.
"They’re there," he said.
Adrian didn’t respond.
Instead, he turned to the pilot.
"Get on their air tower," he said. "See if anyone’s still operating."
The pilot nodded and switched frequencies.
"Camp Humphreys Tower, this is Cold Reach One," he said. "Inbound heavy transport, requesting landing clearance."
Static answered him.
He tried again.
"Camp Humphreys Tower, this is Cold Reach One, do you read?"
Nothing.
The co-pilot adjusted the frequency slightly.
"Trying alternate channel," he said.
"Camp Humphreys Tower, Cold Reach One. We are inbound. Requesting any active personnel respond."
Silence.
Only static filled the speakers.
Ryan crossed his arms slightly.
"That’s not a good sign," he said.
The pilot tried one more time, voice firmer now.
"Camp Humphreys Tower, this is Cold Reach One. If anyone is receiving, respond now."
Still nothing.
The cockpit fell quiet again.
Adrian exhaled once.
"No tower," he said.
The pilot glanced at him.
"...Your call, sir."
Adrian looked forward again.
The runway was getting closer.
Closer, and now, there’s movement.
At first, it was faint.
Small shapes emerging from the sides of the runway.
Then more.
And more.
"They’re converging," the co-pilot said, voice tightening slightly. "Multiple contacts moving toward the runway."
Through the windshield, the shapes became clearer.
Zombies.
Dozens at first.
Then hundreds.
They poured out from between buildings, from behind wrecked vehicles, from open hangars.
Drawn by the sound of the engines of the Globemaster.
"They’re going straight for the landing zone," Ryan said.
The pilot adjusted the descent slightly, eyes locked ahead.
"They’re on the runway," he said. "We won’t have a clear touchdown."
Adrian watched them.
"Land anyway," he said without hesitation.
The pilot glanced at him.
"Sir, they’ll be in our path," he said. "We risk ingestion into the remaining engines. Landing gear damage—"
Adrian cut him off.
"We are going to sabotage this aircraft the moment we are done with the operation," he said. "We don’t need it intact. I can simply summon one. And also, close the ramp."
The crew chief didn’t hesitate.
"Closing ramp!" he called out, signaling his team.
The hydraulics engaged again, fighting against the airflow as the rear ramp began to rise. The violent rush of wind started to die down, replaced by the heavy, enclosed hum of the aircraft once more.
The cargo bay sealed.
The noise settled into something controlled again.
Up front, the pilot tightened his grip on the controls, eyes locked on the runway ahead.
"Final approach," he said. "Committing."
The Globemaster descended lower.
Zombies flooded the runway from both sides, drawn in by the engines, by the heat, by the sheer presence of the aircraft. They ran without coordination, slamming into each other, tripping, getting back up, all pushing toward the same point.
Toward them.
"Gear down," the co-pilot called out.
A heavy mechanical sound followed as the landing gear deployed.
"Speed reducing... aligning centerline," the pilot continued, adjusting the aircraft with careful inputs to compensate for the lost engine.
The aircraft shuddered again, the asymmetrical thrust still fighting against him.
"Hold it steady," Ryan muttered.
"I’ve got it," the pilot replied.
The ground rushed up.
Closer.
Closer.
"Brace!" Ryan called out.
The moment hit.
The wheels slammed onto the runway with a heavy impact, the entire aircraft jolting as it bounced once before settling into a rough, uneven roll.
And immediately, they hit the first line.
A series of heavy thuds echoed beneath the aircraft as bodies were dragged under the landing gear. The sound was sickening, dull impacts mixed with the grinding of metal and flesh.
The pilot held the controls steady.
"Maintain direction!" he said.
More impacts followed.
Zombies slammed into the nose, into the landing gear, some bouncing off the fuselage, others disappearing beneath it entirely as the massive weight crushed through them.
Blood sprayed across the runway, streaking beneath the aircraft as it pushed forward.
"Watch engine intake!" the co-pilot warned. "Debris field increasing!"
"I know," the pilot replied, adjusting slightly to keep airflow stable on the remaining engine.
The Globemaster roared down the runway, slower now but still moving with force.
The swarm didn’t stop.
More came from the sides, throwing themselves at the aircraft, clawing at it, hitting it, getting dragged under.
"Speed dropping," the co-pilot said.
"Brakes ready," the pilot answered.
The aircraft began to slow further.
The impacts became less frequent.
Then finally, the pilot pulled back, guiding the damaged aircraft into a controlled stop along the runway. The engines whined as they powered down slightly, the remaining thrust stabilizing the aircraft.
Moments later, the aircraft came to a full stop and the zombies caught up and began growling from the outside. They were even banging sound as the zombies flailed their arms towards the body of the aircraft.
"What do we do now sir?" Ryan asked.
"Well, we are going to wait for them to calm down. Surely, those zombies couldn’t detect what’s inside the aircraft. I want no noise. Once everything settles down, we are going to move out. As for the pilots, you guys will come with us as well. We may not be able to return here as the runways are filled with zombies."
"Yeah...we can’t take off in this situation," the pilot said, nodding his head.
With that, they remained silent, waiting for the zombies to calm down.