Chapter 9: The Giant
The warning signs appeared gradually.
At first, they were easy to ignore.
A neighborhood losing power for several hours.
A district going dark for an entire day.
A substation failing somewhere in the distance.
Individually, none of these events seemed particularly important.
Together, however, they painted a clear picture.
The power grid was dying.
The fact that it had survived this long was already remarkable.
Without maintenance crews, engineers, and fuel deliveries, the collapse had always been inevitable.
Now the final stages had begun.
Zealot intended to be prepared when it happened.
***
The collection campaign started immediately.
Every available minion received new assignments.
Department stores.
Electronics retailers.
Warehouses.
Industrial facilities.
Hardware suppliers.
Nothing was overlooked.
Anything capable of storing or producing electricity became a priority target.
The operation expanded rapidly.
Hundreds of batteries were collected.
Then thousands.
Portable power stations.
Industrial battery banks.
Solar equipment.
Inverters.
Voltage regulators.
Generators.
Fuel tanks.
Every useful item disappeared into Zealot's growing stockpiles.
Most survivors focused on food and weapons.
Few considered long-term energy storage.
Zealot intended to exploit that oversight.
By the time other groups recognized the problem, much of the surrounding district's supply had already been claimed.
***
The next project was even more ambitious.
Food preservation.
The farms continued producing resources.
Livestock populations continued growing.
Scavenging operations remained successful.
As a result, Zealot possessed more food than ever before.
Unfortunately, food spoiled.
Especially meat.
Allowing valuable resources to rot would be unacceptable.
After several days of consideration, he settled on a solution.
An entire apartment floor would be converted into a refrigeration complex.
The tenth floor became the chosen location.
Every resident apartment was emptied.
Furniture removed.
Walls modified.
Storage systems installed.
Most importantly, refrigerators were collected from every accessible building within his territory.
The scale of the operation bordered on absurd.
Dozens became hundreds.
Hundreds became more than a thousand refrigeration units.
Hallways filled with freezers.
Living rooms transformed into cold storage facilities.
Bedrooms packed with preservation equipment.
Every available outlet was utilized.
When the project finally finished, the tenth floor resembled a commercial food warehouse rather than an apartment complex.
The result exceeded expectations.
The facility could preserve enormous quantities of food.
Enough to support future growth for years.
As long as electricity remained available.
And when the grid finally failed, generators would take over.
Everything had been planned.
Everything had been prepared.
Or so Zealot believed.
***
Three days later, the city suffered its largest blackout yet.
Entire districts vanished into darkness.
Several sections never recovered.
The power simply disappeared.
Forever.
Standing on the rooftop that evening, Zealot watched as large portions of the skyline went dark.
The city resembled a dying star.
Light fading one section at a time.
Most survivors would see disaster.
Zealot saw confirmation.
His preparations had been necessary.
Not excessive.
Necessary.
Within hours, backup systems throughout his territory were activated.
Generators began operating.
Battery banks entered service.
Critical facilities remained functional.
The refrigerated storage floor continued humming.
His farms remained operational.
His command center remained online.
The kingdom endured.
Exactly as intended.
***
It was during this period that something unusual appeared.
One of the western scouting minions transmitted an image unlike anything Zealot had seen before.
The zombie had entered a shopping district roughly fifteen kilometers away.
Initially nothing seemed remarkable.
Abandoned stores.
Broken vehicles.
Ordinary zombies.
Then the minion turned a corner.
And froze.
Zealot immediately focused on the feed.
For several seconds he thought his perception was distorted.
The figure standing in the street looked impossibly large.
At least two meters tall.
Perhaps slightly taller.
Its shoulders were broad enough to block a doorway.
Muscles bulged beneath torn clothing.
Its arms looked thicker than some people's legs.
The creature resembled a bodybuilder enlarged beyond normal human limits.
Every movement radiated power.
Even standing still, it appeared dangerous.
"What the hell is that?"
Zealot murmured.
The giant zombie slowly turned.
Clouded eyes locked onto the scouting minion.
Then it charged.
***
The collision was brutal.
The giant crossed the distance in seconds.
One punch shattered the scouting minion's skull.
The zombie died instantly.
The sensory feed vanished.
Zealot sat upright.
Shock spread through him.
His minions were stronger than ordinary zombies.
Especially those enhanced by crystals.
Yet one had been destroyed with a single strike.
That was impossible.
Or rather...
It should have been impossible.
The giant represented something new.
Something different.
Something evolved.
The realization sent excitement through him.
And concern.
If one such creature existed, others likely existed as well.
Ignoring them would be foolish.
Studying them would be invaluable.
The decision practically made itself.
The giant needed to be captured.
***
Preparations began immediately.
A strike force was assembled.
Twenty minions.
Most enhanced multiple times.
Several carried improvised restraints.
Others carried chains.
The operation resembled a military mission more than a zombie hunt.
Through the sensory network, Zealot personally directed every stage.
The giant was located two days later.
Still roaming the same district.
Still terrifying.
Still absurdly powerful.
The ambush commenced.
At first, everything went according to plan.
The giant engaged the forward units.
Several minions attacked simultaneously.
The result was disappointing.
The creature simply overpowered them.
One zombie lost an arm.
Another suffered a crushed chest.
A third was thrown through a storefront window.
The strength difference was enormous.
Far greater than anticipated.
Fortunately, numbers compensated.
Wave after wave attacked.
Gradually slowing the giant.
Gradually exhausting it.
Eventually chains secured its limbs.
Then more chains.
Then additional restraints.
Even then the creature continued struggling violently.
Only after nearly thirty minutes of effort was it fully subdued.
The battle cost several damaged minions.
But the objective had been achieved.
The giant was captured.
***
Transporting it back proved almost as difficult as capturing it.
Specialized vehicles were required.
Additional restraints were added.
Even then, the creature attempted to escape repeatedly.
When it finally arrived at the apartment complex, Zealot immediately began examinations.
The differences were obvious.
Muscle density.
Bone structure.
Overall size.
Everything exceeded ordinary zombies.
The virus had somehow produced a specialized mutation.
A strain focused entirely on physical power.
For several days he studied it.
Then the breakthrough occurred.
While examining the creature through his unique connection, Zealot sensed something hidden within the infection itself.
A pattern.
A variation.
A distinct biological template.
Instinctively, he understood what it represented.
A strain.
A reproducible strain.
His eyes widened.
"Can this be copied?"
The answer emerged almost immediately.
Yes.
***
The first experiment took place the following morning.
One ordinary minion was selected.
The giant remained restrained nearby.
Using instincts provided by his unique condition, Zealot carefully replicated the altered infection pattern.
Then introduced it into the chosen minion.
The transformation began immediately.
Muscles expanded.
Bones thickened.
Height increased.
The zombie grew larger before his eyes.
Not as large as the original giant.
But undeniably stronger.
The experiment had succeeded.
A new strain had been created.
Zealot stared at the transformed zombie.
Then at the giant.
A slow smile appeared.
"This will be called..."
He paused.
Then nodded.
"ZM-1."
Zombie Muscle One.
The first specialized strain under his control.
And almost certainly not the last.
As he watched the transformed minion flex its enlarged hands, excitement surged through him.
The giant had not merely been captured.
It had become a blueprint.
A template.
A foundation.
And from that foundation, an army of monsters would soon be born.