I Have a Modern Weapon Gacha System in the Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 69: Reunion

It was eight o’clock in the evening, and the Chinook helicopter, carrying civilians from Boracay arrived.

His notification sounded in his head, informing him that he had received 1,000 per civilian rescued. So he had received over 23,000 since their total number is 23.

They were all processed in the civilian section of the base, the same system used for every survivor brought in from the condominium Bayshore Residential Resort 1.

Even the congressman was there.

He stood off to the side of the intake area, jaw still bruised, a faint discoloration forming along his cheek where the punch had landed earlier.

When his turn came, he stepped forward without waiting to be called.

"I need to speak with whoever is in charge here," he said, voice controlled now, but still carrying that same edge. "Immediately."

The staff member behind the table didn’t look up right away.

"Name," she said.

"I just told you, I’m a—"

"Name," she repeated.

A brief pause.

"...Miguel Alvarez," he said, irritation creeping back in.

"Age."

"Twenty-six."

"Occupation prior to the outbreak?"

"I’m a politician. I’m a congressman," he said, lifting his chin slightly as if that alone should change how this went.

The staff member typed it in without reacting.

"Any injuries?"

"Only my cheeks, that bastard soldier punched me! I need to see his name!"

"Any dependents with you?"

"No. What the fuck...are you even listening?"

"Then proceed to medical screening," she said, sliding the clipboard toward him. "Fill this out and move to the next station."

Miguel didn’t take it right away.

He stared at her like he was waiting for something to change.

Nothing did.

The staff member held the clipboard in place, her expression neutral, already moving on to the next line in her system.

Behind him, the line shifted.

People waiting.

Watching.

"...You’re serious," Miguel said, a short laugh slipping out, more disbelief than humor. "You’re actually processing me like this."

"Yes," she said simply.

Miguel exhaled sharply, then grabbed the clipboard.

"Fine," he muttered. "You want me to play along, I’ll play along."

Adrian witnessed all of that and approached the lady that processed him.

"Sir," she noticed him immediately.

"You are doing a great job," Adrian praised.

"Thank you sir."

"Anyways, I need to see two people. Daniel and Maria Fernandez."

"Is there a reason why you want them to see sir?" the lady asked.

"They are my parents."

The moment Adrian said that, the lady’s mouth gaped slightly before she caught herself.

"Understood, sir," she said quickly, straightening in her seat. "They’ve already been processed. I’ll pull up their records."

Her fingers moved across the keyboard, pulling up the system.

"Daniel Fernandez... Maria Fernandez... both cleared. No critical injuries. Assigned to temporary housing block C-3. They have been processed earlier so I’m sure that they are already in that block."

Adrian nodded once.

"Thank you."

He proceeded to where they were assigned.

The blocks came into view as he crossed the open lane, rows of prefabricated units laid out in straight lines under floodlights. Guards stood at intervals with their rifles.

Adrian didn’t slow down.

"Block C-3?" he asked as he passed one of them.

"Second row, third unit, sir," the guard replied.

Adrian gave a short nod and kept moving.

Behind him, a few personnel shifted their stance slightly, acknowledging him without breaking their posts.

He reached the row.

Counted.

Second row.

Third unit.

The door was closed.

Adrian stopped in front of it, hand hovering for a brief second before he pushed it open.

Inside, the space was small but organized.

Two beds.

Basic storage.

Supplies stacked clean in the corner—water, rations, first aid kits.

Daniel was standing near the wall, looking over the contents like he was checking everything by instinct. Maria sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting on her lap, shoulders finally lowered now that the movement had stopped.

They both looked up when the door opened.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Maria stood.

"Adrian..."

"Mom."

She crossed the space quickly and pulled him into a tight embrace, her grip firm, like she was making sure he was real this time.

Daniel stepped closer, placing a hand on Adrian’s shoulder, holding it there for a second longer than usual.

"I am glad that you were safe..." Adrian said, tears began trickling down his face. "I thought I was going to lose you."

Maria pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands still on his arms, fingers tightening like she didn’t want to let go again.

"We’re here," she said softly. "We’re safe."

Her voice shook a little, but she held it together.

"We thought we lost you too," she added.

Daniel nodded beside her, his grip still firm on Adrian’s shoulder.

"We saw what was happening out there," he said. "We didn’t know if anyone was coming. We didn’t know if you were still... alive."

Adrian wiped his face quickly with the back of his hand.

"I made it," he said. "I’m here."

Maria gave a small, relieved smile.

"You are," she said. "And that’s enough for me."

For a moment, they just stood there, close, no rush, no noise from the outside reaching them.

Then Daniel’s eyes shifted slightly.

He looked at Adrian again.

More carefully this time.

From the boots.

To the vest.

To the rifle slung across his back.

The uniform.

"...You’re with them," Daniel said.

Adrian followed his gaze briefly, then nodded.

"Yeah."

Maria looked at him again, this time noticing it too.

"I volunteered," he said. "They needed people. I signed up."

Daniel studied him for a second longer, eyes still on the uniform, on the way it fit him like he had been wearing it for a long time.

"...You volunteered," he repeated.

Adrian nodded once.

"They needed people who could move," he said. "So I stepped in."

Daniel didn’t question it further.

He just let out a slow breath and gave a small nod.

"...You made the right call," he said.

Maria looked at Adrian again, her expression softer now, but there was still something there—concern, mixed with relief.

"You’ve been out there this whole time?" she asked.

"Most of it," Adrian replied.

"That’s dangerous," she said quietly.

Adrian didn’t deny it.

"Yeah. Ma, Dad...About Bea..."

"We already know, you told us, remember? Our Bea is gone. We were devastated by the news..."

"I’m sorry Ma, if I was earlier, I would have saved her. But I was too late."

"Don’t blame yourself...it’s not your fault. I can’t let you take the blame for your sister’s death that was not in your control...Let’s talk," Maria said.