Chapter 8: The Farm of the Dead
The public park had once been one of the most beautiful locations in the district.
Before the apocalypse, families gathered there every weekend.
Children played beneath the trees.
Couples walked along winding paths.
Street vendors sold food near the entrance.
Now it was silent.
Abandoned.
Overgrown.
A monument to a world that no longer existed.
When Zealot first arrived through the eyes of one of his minions, he immediately recognized its potential.
Nearly twenty hectares of open land.
Several artificial ponds.
Wide walking paths.
Plenty of sunlight.
Most importantly, it sat well within his expanding territory.
It was perfect.
The park would become his first agricultural center.
***
The operation began the following morning.
Dozens of hazmat-clad minions entered the park carrying tools gathered from hardware stores and abandoned warehouses.
Trees were trimmed.
Walkways were cleared.
Debris was removed.
Old fences were dismantled and repurposed.
The transformation happened surprisingly quickly.
Unlike human workers, zombies never needed breaks.
Never complained.
Never stopped.
They simply worked.
Hour after hour.
Day after day.
Relentlessly.
By the end of the first week, large sections of the park had been converted into farmland.
Planting zones were established.
Storage sheds were constructed.
Animal pens were assembled.
Water collection systems were installed.
The once-abandoned park slowly transformed into something entirely different.
A functioning agricultural complex.
***
The next challenge was livestock.
Fortunately, the farming region discovered by the scouting minions contained plenty.
Transporting animals proved difficult but not impossible.
Using trucks collected throughout the city, Zealot organized several retrieval operations.
The first convoy returned with chickens.
Hundreds of chickens.
The constant noise nearly drove him insane.
The second convoy brought goats.
The third transported pigs.
The fourth brought several cattle.
Each successful operation expanded the farm's capabilities.
Soon the park contained a surprising variety of livestock.
More importantly, breeding populations had been established.
Even if outside supplies disappeared completely, the animals could sustain themselves through reproduction.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was a start.
***
The original rural farm was not abandoned.
Far from it.
Zealot quickly realized its value.
The land available there far exceeded anything he could recreate near his apartment complex.
Rather than relocating everything, he chose a different approach.
Several zombie caretakers remained permanently stationed at the farm.
Their responsibilities were straightforward.
Maintain fences.
Protect livestock.
Monitor crops.
Perform repairs.
The arrangement worked remarkably well.
Through the sensory network, Zealot occasionally checked their progress.
Everything functioned smoothly.
The zombies required no supervision.
No salaries.
No encouragement.
Only instructions.
As long as orders existed, work continued.
The efficiency bordered on absurd.
***
Several weeks after establishing the park farm, another discovery occurred.
One that surprised Zealot.
He was eating dinner when curiosity prompted an experiment.
For some time, he had noticed a peculiar change within his body.
Since surviving the infection, ordinary food still tasted normal.
Perhaps slightly less flavorful than before.
But perfectly edible.
At the same time, another instinct occasionally surfaced.
One linked to raw meat.
The same instinct present within ordinary zombies.
Until now, he had ignored it.
That evening, however, curiosity won.
Inside one of the storage refrigerators sat a freshly butchered piece of goat meat.
Ordinarily it would require cooking.
Instead, Zealot cut off a small piece and examined it.
"This is ridiculous."
Even so, he took a bite.
Several moments passed.
Then his eyebrows rose.
The meat tasted strange.
Not unpleasant.
Just different.
More appealing than it should have been.
More satisfying.
His body seemed to absorb the nutrients unusually efficiently.
Interesting.
Over the following weeks, further experimentation confirmed the truth.
He could consume ordinary human food.
He could also consume raw meat.
Both provided nourishment.
Neither caused discomfort.
The discovery reinforced something he had long suspected.
He truly occupied a unique position between human and zombie.
Not fully one.
Not fully the other.
Something entirely new.
***
The farm's success soon produced another benefit.
Meat production.
For humans, the livestock represented food.
For zombies, they represented potential enhancement.
Zealot continued testing the effects of animal consumption on his minions.
The results remained consistent.
Regular access to meat gradually improved physical performance.
Stronger muscles.
Improved coordination.
Greater endurance.
The improvements occurred slowly.
Far slower than enhancement crystals.
But they were essentially free.
A renewable source of growth.
The crystals remained vastly superior.
A single crystal could produce improvements equivalent to weeks of feeding.
Nevertheless, combining both methods yielded excellent results.
The strongest minions received regular meat alongside enhancement crystals.
Their development noticeably accelerated.
A pattern was emerging.
One that resembled evolution.
***
As the agricultural system expanded, another concern demanded attention.
Electricity.
The city's power grid continued functioning.
Barely.
Large sections had already gone dark.
Others experienced frequent interruptions.
Zealot knew it wouldn't last forever.
Sooner or later the entire grid would fail.
When that happened, preserving food would become difficult.
Especially meat.
Preparation became a priority.
Through his scouting network, Zealot began identifying potential sources of backup power.
Department stores.
Industrial warehouses.
Electronics suppliers.
Hardware centers.
Wherever batteries existed, his minions collected them.
Small batteries.
Large batteries.
Rechargeable batteries.
Industrial battery banks.
Everything.
If it stored energy, it became part of the inventory.
Simultaneously, generators were acquired.
Then fuel.
Large quantities of fuel.
More than any normal survivor group would ever require.
Each successful operation strengthened his position.
The future blackout was coming.
When it arrived, he intended to be ready.
***
One evening, while reviewing reports through multiple minions, Zealot climbed to the rooftop.
The city stretched endlessly before him.
Dark.
Silent.
Broken.
Yet scattered throughout the ruins, signs of his influence continued growing.
The apartment complex.
The surrounding streets.
The agricultural park.
The distant farm.
Supply depots.
Patrol routes.
Observation networks.
Each piece connected to the others.
Each strengthening the whole.
His kingdom remained small compared to the size of the city.
But it was real.
Tangible.
Functional.
More importantly, it was self-sustaining.
No longer dependent solely on scavenging.
No longer surviving from day to day.
It was beginning to produce.
To expand.
To endure.
As the wind swept across the rooftop, Zealot found himself smiling.
The apocalypse had taken everything from humanity.
Governments.
Economies.
Societies.
Civilizations.
Yet from those ruins, something new was emerging.
Something built not by desperate survivors.
But by a sovereign.
A ruler.
A man who commanded the dead.
And this was only the beginning.
Far greater discoveries still waited somewhere beyond the boundaries of his growing domain.