“Can I be shown around?” I asked. “I want to see everything.” Maria gave a nod and a few of the women followed along with her, showering her with questions. Eyes followed us as we moved from building to building.

Maria wasn’t exaggerating when she said there were animals and crops to be tended and harvested. There were at least fifteen cows, a dozen pigs and two chicken coops. They showed me the farmland, and the tool shed, as well as the shed for heavy machinery.

Their faces all darkened when they took me to the last building. It seemed just like another barn for animals, but when I walked in the stench assaulted me. There were random patches of blood on the stone floor and an odd noise coming from inside.

I walked in not knowing what to expect and approached a stall. I reached out for a closed shutter, intending to open it and see what animal was being kept there.

“Careful! If you get bit you will die!” One of the women following Maria called out. I realized the pen had zombies in them. In fact, all three pens had zombies in them.

“… What is this for?” I asked.

“Ghost Hand decided that threatening us with death wouldn’t work. The girls that refused… ended up being thrown inside,” the woman said. Her words made me nearly want to vomit.

“He was feeding girls that refused to be abused to zombies?”

“Yes… some of us weren’t afraid of death, but not one of them could stomach being eaten alive. We thought he wouldn’t do it… but two girls died in this way. Even if you survive being attacked… the infection kills you.”

I thought back to my own early encounter with zombies, “The infection always kills you?” I asked.

“Yes, even one of Ghost Hand’s trusted friends got bit. Rumor said he was level six, and he still died.”

There was a passive skill I had called Mutated that had never leveled up even once. It came to me after I was bitten by a zombie and survived. Did that mean? I knew it was a stupid idea—a shot in the dark—but I opened the shutter and leaned to offer my hand to the shuffling monster that came forward.

“Oh my god, what are you doing?” The woman cried, “did you not hear what I just said? Maria! Tell him!”

Maria looked uneasy and looked to me to confirm, “You’ll be fine right? You know what you’re doing.” She said.

“I hope so.” Was all I could say in response. There was a sudden pain followed by a clear tingling in my hand as the zombie bit into it. I jerked it back, closed the shutter over and checked my status.

Name: Mike Reynolds (27) Class: Necromancer Level: 17 EXP: 40%

HP: 709/710 MP: 260/320

STR: 5 Fear Resistance: 5

AGI: 2

DEX: 5

VIT: 20 +2

WIS: 24 +8

Available: 0

Skills: [A]Summon Skeleton LV. 7 |[A] Decay LV. 2| [A] Reanimate Dead LV. 2 | [A] Bone Armor LV. 2 | [A] Vast Shadows | [P]Sixth Sense | [P] Bravery LV. 2 | [P] Mutated | [P] Pain Resistance LV. 2 | [P] Skeletal Mastery LV. 3| [P]Intimidate Living |[P] Inner Calm

Disappointingly, Mutated remained at level 1. And I watched as my HP dropped by 1 point every 10 seconds or so, which meant the infection was beating out my HP recovery, although just barely. There was only the tingling in my hand, and no other adverse status effect.

Worst case scenario I could drink a potion and have Thomas heal me. It should be completely fine.

“What did you do that for?” asked Jessica.

“I gained the Mutated skill in the past from a zombie bite. I was hoping it would level up but it hasn’t.” Feeling slightly foolish, I gave a shrug but Jessica simply nodded, like it was a reasonable action.

After inspecting my wound, I caught Maria’s eye. “Can you gather everyone up again? I’d like to have a better understanding of where we stand. I want to know what everyone’s previous professions were, any specialties and special knowledge. I also want to know what they want to do—that is if they wish to remain here on the farm, leave, or level up.”

“I don’t think many of them will understand what it means to level up.”

“You can explain it to them. Point out that we have a system that works. You are level eleven already. You could have handled Ghost Hand by yourself.” Listening to this exchange, the other women with us looked at Maria with expressions of admiration before turning away together. Neither Jessica or I set off to follow them and when they were out of earshot, Jessica spoke.

“What will we do with this place?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. Having a food supply is going to be essential but I’m not sure the perimeter can be made defensible.”

Jessica nodded. “How about we stay here for a few days and not push anyone to a quick decision about whether to join us. They are going to be nervous and I’d like to avoid anyone having silly ideas. As soon as they see we don’t have any ill intentions things will fall into place.”

“Agreed.” With that we went back to the yard, but Maria was still out getting hold of everyone and there was an awkward silence as the people present eyed us while they waited. Feeling uncomfortable, I went inside the main farmhouse and soon found the room on the ground floor that Ghost Hand had used for his office.

Perhaps it was taking Maria time to explain exactly what leveling meant, and what it entailed. But it was over twenty minutes before Jessica called me out front, to where the people were standing in groups near the porch.

Alan and Thomas walked through them and tallied up the population count. There were 17 men and 10 women. The majority of them were all below middle-aged and looked to be in good shape. There were three elderly members of the farm, but even they weren’t so old they couldn’t get around or contribute.

Ghost Hand had kept a notebook at his desk, and I brought it with me to write down the information we needed. One by one, as Jessica did the talking I made notes: names, age, and previous occupation. If Ghost Hand had recorded any of that somewhere, I hadn’t found it. It wasn’t likely, but I was really hoping that among these people would be a doctor, or an engineer, or an architect. That was the main reason Jessica was asking their former occupations. We wanted to know that.

There was no chance a doctor was going to be mending cows, or an engineer picking corn. We needed people with specialty skills doing what they did best. When all was said and done and the tally was finished we knew what we had to work with, or at least what was immediately useful to us.

Of the 10 women, one was a nurse, one was an agricultural student working her masters, and one of them was a veterinarian. The veterinarian insisted farm animals weren’t her practice, but there was some carry over. The other 7 had professions that didn’t exactly have overlap with creating a safe base in a post-RPG apocalypse world.

Among the 17 men there were several more professions that could be useful to the community. Two of them were mechanical engineers, one of them having extensive experience working on cars. Another two had been workers at the steel mill just five miles away and had experience handling metal and using the machines in the factory. There was also a carpenter, a man that worked on a farm, and another nurse.

No one was useless, but I was looking for specialties. Having someone with the knowledge of how best to build up the walls, or build up the infrastructure, or when to harvest crops, or how to tend to the animals, were subjects we most needed covered right now. Since we couldn’t go online any more, human memory and experience was precious.

More than half of the people in front of us expressed an interest in leveling. That is to say, they were interested in gaining at least a few levels, and I recommended everyone to do so. Even if you only planned to do manual work for the community, having points in STR could increase your productivity considerably. Not to mention that the extra hit points could be life saving.

When I got a murmur of agreement, I said that was all from me for now, we would come up with a plan for how to level everyone safely.

“Thanks everyone,” said Jessica. “I hope you’ll all stay but anyone who wants to leave can do so. We’re going to build a place where people can be safe and prosper. We’ll get back to you soon with our plan.”

Talking in small groups, the people in the yard started to disperse. I suggested to Jessica, Thomas, and Alan that we go inside to the chairs in Ghost Hand’s office, but Jessica shook her head. “That will look like we are going to do things in the same way he did. Let’s bring the chairs out here on the porch so people can see us.”

We did that and soon were seated, except for Thomas who leaned on the railing that divided the porch from the yard. The big question was where to find the low level mobs that we could use to get levels for seventeen people. On the way here I had seen individual roaming zombies and goblins, but far too few for efficient levelling.

Would they be willing to come in small groups in the jeep? Jessica wasn’t sure they would. Some people had said they didn’t want to leave the farm for any reason. And I could understand why someone might resist that idea: if we had ill intentions, they might end up dumped on the side of the street with violent monsters all around. It wasn’t a logical thought at all, but I could understand what fear made people think.

“They might be willing to go with us once Lucas is back with the other women,” Jessica said.

We put leveling on the backburner and turned our attention to planning how to secure the farm as quickly as possible.

The steel mill workers had said the machinery in the factory was all electrically powered, but generators were put in place to keep the mill running for at least a day without it. As far as they knew, gas was kept on site for that occasion.

Thomas reckoned that it should be possible to get hundreds of pieces of sheet metal with a day’s work, which we could use to fortify compound walls built from earth around the core farm buildings. That was where our two mechanical engineers came into play. As long as we had the steel beams and required tools, they should be able to draw up a sketch that would satisfy our defensive needs.

Some of the machinery up at the factory might also be useful. The four of us resolved on an expedition to the steel mills, with Maria and Lucas and two jeeps. It might well be dangerous. According to Maria, some of the people at the farm were refugees from Withersburg, a large city that had experienced a really fast takeover by monsters. If those monsters had pushed on past the city boundary they would be at the still mill.

Our conversation then turned to the housing situation. It wasn’t fair to expect the farm workers to continue sleeping in barns while we had the house bedrooms. That was how Ghost Hand had run the place but we were going to be different. The answer was probably to build new, simple homes for everyone. We had a carpenter and although he wasn’t a house builder, he was familiar with the building materials for a simple home. There was no need to be fancy, as one room was enough. Without running water and electricity, a box with a door was basically all that was needed.

In the end, everything came down to transportation and safety. We needed the right type of vehicles, and enough of them, to transport the heavy supplies required for rebuilding the farm in a secure and comfortable way. Those things could be found in our city plus the steel mill.

Our plans were grandiose, and no one could expect us to deliver on it immediately, but it was good to have a goal—to have hope. My spirits had risen as we’d made these plans.

Lucas managed to return just before sunset with the women and the few personal articles we had kept in the apartment. None of us had much but I was glad to see my toothbrush and a change of clothes. He was right to have brought it all. We wouldn’t be returning to that apartment again, at least not for anytime soon.

Having waited for her friends, Maria and the other women decided what was to happen to Ghost Hand. A part of me didn’t actually want to know, but my curiosity got the best of me and I went to find Maria and ask her. It was a primitive method—death by firing squad.

I could only shake my head, but didn’t say anything. The women despised how him and his thugs had abused them. They were all going to put a bullet in him: whether it was the one that killed him or not, they didn’t care.

The execution was planned for the morning and I decided to visit Ghost Hand, who was tied to a post near the zombie stalls. It wasn’t sympathy that took me to him but a feeling that I should try to find out about his ability. Maybe I’d encounter other people or monsters with it.

He looked at me as I came in, eyes full of anger.

“Tomorrow you’re going to be executed,” I said to him. “It seems you’ve really done a good job of making everyone hate you.”

“I figured,” he replied. “What’s the point of coming here to tell me?”

“I want your magic and gear.” I said plainly. “I know that you must have built up a decent amount of them taking advantage of all these people.”

“As far as I know,” he said, “items don’t drop when you die. If I don’t give them willingly you’ll never get them.” He had more knowledge than me on this subject most likely. Pair that with the fact that not a single one of his men dropped anything, I could only take his word for it.

“That’s probably true.” I said. “But do you know that skills that heal people exist?”

“I’d never seen one, but what is your point?” He asked.

“It would be possible for me to keep you alive for an extended period of time tomorrow. I can’t say for sure how long, but I’m sure it would be long enough for them to shoot you thirty or forty times.”

“Weren’t you boasting about humanity just earlier?”

“I was, but I’ve already resolved myself to extend that humanity to people who are deserving of it. You are not one of them.”

“So if I don’t give you my items, you will keep me alive as long as possible during my execution?”

I nodded. “Correct. It’s not a bad deal for you. A dead man doesn’t need items. In fact, I’ll make sure it goes quick. As soon as the firing starts you’ll take a shot to the head and be done.”

“I’ve a better idea. Let me go and you can have it all.”

“The women would never forgive me. And I doubt you have anything that powerful or you’d have used it.”

He didn’t say anything for several seconds and then started pulling items from his inventory. I was actually surprised at the sheer amount, and it seemed he had been funneling from everyone he could.

There was a stack of over 20 Rations, 10 Bandages, several HP potions and six Survivor’s Medallions that I happily scooped up. This would help tremendously with making sure everyone was well taken care of.

“Good enough to let me go?” he asked.

“Nowhere near,” I said. “But it’s enough that I’m not going to interfere with your execution. It will be instant. It will be a lot less painful death than many of those who died because of you.”

He didn’t say another word and just quietly sat there, pale and grim.

Somehow the thought crossed my mind that he was lucky they didn’t feed him to the zombies. He truly did deserve the karma coming his way.