The Dead Are Weaponized
last update2025-06-09 19:09:48

Chapter 4: The Dead Are Weaponized

Inside the Cave System – 0737 Hours

The man standing before Gabriel Knox was a ghost.

Elijah Reece had died three years ago in the Donbas region—officially, anyway. Knox had seen the footage: the armored convoy shredded by mortar fire, Reece’s dog tags recovered from the charred wreckage. There hadn’t even been a body.

But now?

Reece stood barefoot in the Afghan dirt, pale, malnourished, eyes glazed like fogged glass. His wrists were bound with a slack cord. His mouth moved, but no sound came.

Then Knox saw it.

Behind Reece’s ear, buried under a crust of dried blood: a surgical scar. Thin. Precise.

Implant.

“Reece,” Knox said, raising his rifle but not firing. “It’s me. Ghost. You remember me?”

No recognition. Just slow breathing. One step forward.

In Reece’s left hand: a carbon-steel blade.

In his right: a dead man’s stare.

Then he lunged.

0739 Hours – Reprogrammed

Knox sidestepped just in time. The knife flashed through empty air, kissing the cave wall. Sparks flew. Reece moved fast—too fast for someone who looked half-starved.

Knox pivoted, slammed his elbow into Reece’s ribs.

No reaction.

Reece came again.

This time, Knox let him get close, twisted the knife hand away, and delivered a brutal knee to Reece’s gut. It should have dropped him.

Reece barely flinched.

He grabbed Knox by the throat with unnatural strength and slammed him against the wall.

Stars exploded in Knox’s vision.

Somewhere behind him, Jessa stirred. “Gabriel?”

Knox spat blood. “Don’t move!”

He jammed his knee upward into Reece’s groin—nothing. No pain response.

“Jesus,” Knox hissed, “what the hell did they do to you?”

Reece raised the knife again—

—Knox grabbed his arm and twisted, hard.

A crack.

The knife dropped.

Reece roared. For the first time, there was sound. Pain. A flicker of something human.

Knox didn’t hesitate.

He wrapped his arm around Reece’s neck and applied the sleeper hold—tight, brutal, military-grade.

Thirty seconds.

Reece slumped.

0742 Hours – Ghost Memories

Knox laid the unconscious man on the floor of the cave and bound his limbs.

He turned to Jessa, who had managed to sit up against the cave wall. Her face was pale, skin clammy. She was losing too much blood.

“I know that guy,” she rasped.

Knox nodded. “Elijah Reece. Recon. MIA, 2022.”

“He’s not dead,” she said.

“No,” Knox said. “He’s worse.”

He knelt beside Reece and examined the scar again. Then he took out his field knife and made a quick incision—just enough to expose the implant.

A small node, blinking red.

“Tracker?” Jessa asked.

Knox shook his head.

“Control module.”

He’d heard whispers of programs like this—behavioral override tech, pulled from DARPA’s darkest corners. It was experimental. Supposedly scrapped.

Except Vance had revived it.

And weaponized the dead.

0745 Hours – Kill the Signal

Knox yanked the implant free. Reece screamed in his unconscious state—then went still.

No beeping. No blinking.

Just silence.

Knox crushed the device under his boot.

“We need to move,” he said. “They’re testing something. Reece wasn’t sent to kill us.”

Jessa frowned. “Then what?”

“To see if it worked.”

0755 Hours – Cave Exit

Knox helped Jessa back onto her feet. She was getting weaker.

They needed extraction. Now.

But the satellite phone was still compromised. No way to radio out.

Unless...

Knox turned to the cave wall and began carving.

Latitude. Longitude. Three numbers. A sigil: a skull split down the center.

“What's that?” Jessa asked.

“An old code,” Knox said. “For an old friend.”

He left it there in blood and soot. Someone would see it.

Someone Knox once trusted.

0805 Hours – Far Ridge

Carter watched through high-powered binoculars. He saw Knox emerge from the cave, dragging the woman. He saw the limp body of Elijah Reece slung over Knox’s other shoulder.

He clicked his mic.

“Package failed. Subject extracted test asset.”

Vance’s voice came back, icy.

“Good. Let him carry the weight.”

Then:

“Phase Two begins now.”

Carter blinked.

“Sir?”

“You wanted him broken? Let’s see how he handles the next name on the list.”

0810 Hours – Cut to Istanbul

A rooftop café. Morning sunlight poured through stained-glass windows. Pigeons flitted overhead.

A man sat at a table, sipping tea. He wore a black jacket, military haircut, deep scar over his right brow.

He checked his burner phone.

One message.

“They’re alive. Knox is inbound.”

He exhaled slowly. A mixture of relief and dread.

Then another ping. A second message.

“Target is YOU. Run.”

He stood quickly.

Then froze.

Across the square, a young woman stood. Her face calm. Her coat too bulky for the heat.

SIGMA.

The man’s eyes narrowed.

Dmitri Halvorsen.

Ex-GRU.

Knox’s former teammate.

And next on the list.

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