Everyone brought the "trash-picking" loot and the "meat-picking" livestock back to the estate, and the whole place erupted in cheers.
Mrs. Howard wiped her hands on her apron and hurried over to stroke one of the cows excitedly.
"Now we'll have fresh milk to drink!"
Tom's son, little Jimmy, was only eight. He was just as thrilled when he saw the animals, running circles around them.
Kids always love animals.
He had long envied Bullet and the other hunting dogs, but they never paid any attention to these unfamiliar civilian newcomers. Every day they dutifully patrolled the forest with several mercenaries, returned on time for meals, and slept inside Rock Fortress at night.
Both the mercenaries and the dog team had plenty to do now.
Ancheta and his group were building defenses. Bossie and a few others patrolled the woods daily with the dogs. Some teams went out to gather supplies and intelligence. Rickson and Leah guarded Rock Fortress. Jenson and a few others handled lookout duty.
Meanwhile, Calista intended to pull Leah, Carver, and the others who often went out together into a fixed action team, making it easier for them to accompany her when she needed to go out and handle matters in the future.
The rest of the estate chores—laundry, cooking, farming, cleaning—were handled by the Howard couple, Dr. Evans, and several civilians. Even plump Martha had slimmed down from all the work.
They were seriously short on manpower.
Calista rubbed her chin, worrying about who should take care of the animals.
Then she noticed Jimmy's enthusiasm and her eyes lit up.
She crouched beside him and gently stroked a little lamb with him.
"Jimmy, do you like these animals too?"
Jimmy turned his head excitedly, his face glowing with the joy of finding someone who felt the same way.
"Calista, they're really cute, right? I like them a lot!"
Calista's eyes curved into a smile. The glow of the setting sun fell across her face, making her look like a beautiful and kind angel.
She smiled softly.
"Then Jimmy, would you like to take responsibility for feeding them? You'll get to spend time with them every day. The cows and lambs—pet them whenever you want. But the person taking care of them has to be responsible. You can't let such cute little animals go hungry. If they feel unwell, you need to report it to Mr. Evans right away. Can Jimmy do that?"
How could someone as beautiful as Calista possibly lie to him!
Young Jimmy, still inexperienced with the world, completely failed to see the capitalist boss hidden behind Calista's angelic smile. He thumped his chest excitedly.
"That's great! I promise I'll complete the mission!"
Excellent.
"That's wonderful! Then I'll leave them in your hands!"
Calista quickly assigned the rest of the work.
Old workhorse Ancheta led a group of people back to laboriously building fencing again.
Just as Calista was about to head back to rest, Rickson called out to her.
"Calista, the team that went to the military base has returned."
According to the reconnaissance team, both the McGhee Tyson Air National Guard Base and the 1st-181st Infantry Battalion training base were deserted.
Most of the equipment had already been withdrawn, and what remained was almost completely burned.
Only two KC-135R/T tanker aircraft, one C-130 transport plane, and a lightly damaged F-16 fighter jet were left at the McGhee Tyson Air National Guard Base.
There weren't many walkers inside either.
Calista felt an irresistible itch in her heart. She desperately wanted to get those planes back.
At the moment, Rock Fortress only had a single six-seat civilian helicopter she had purchased before the apocalypse. Everything else they had were just cars.
She used to think her setup was already quite luxurious for the early days of the apocalypse.
But compared to this… it was painful to look at.
So shabby. Way too shabby.
Thinking about the original storyline—where more than one faction eventually acquired helicopters, and even the Governor managed to get a tank—Calista's eyes lit with determination.
She had to get those planes.
Maybe her desire was written too clearly on her face, because Rickson immediately said:
"We can just fly those planes back."
"Huh? Someone among us can fly planes?"
When she bought the helicopter before the apocalypse, she had arranged for the seller to recommend a pilot who would live at the estate long-term.
Unfortunately, the pilot never showed up. Not long after that, the virus outbreak began, and she completely forgot about it. The helicopter had been sitting unused ever since.
But she vaguely remembered Leah mentioning before that Rickson's team mainly handled personnel transport during missions.
Maybe they had a pilot.
Rickson answered matter-of-factly.
"I, Maya, and Thompson all have helicopter licenses. But for transport planes and fighter jets… I think only Thompson can handle those."
Rickson looked at the buzz-cut mercenary standing behind him.
The man shook his head.
"I can fly transport planes, but the KC-135R/T and the F-16 are beyond me."
So they still needed a specialist.
"Then we'll have to pause this plan until we find the right person," Calista said with a regretful shrug.
Rickson nodded.
"I'll keep people watching that place."
Back in the main house, Calista threw herself onto the fairly comfortable velvet sofa in her room and let out a satisfied sigh.
Good lord, she had been incredibly busy lately.
She didn't want to move at all. Everyone else was probably just as exhausted. It seemed they should rest for a few days before going out to look for more people.
...
After resting for an entire week, Calista—now bored out of her mind—suddenly remembered her earlier plan to sort through her documents. The urge to tidy things up surfaced again.
Her gaze drifted to several safes in the corner of her room that had been brought over from the Sequoyah Hills villa.
She had never had the time to go through them.
Now that she was free, she might as well.
Documents, jewelry, a few luxury watches, and several land deeds that had become completely useless after the apocalypse…
Calista flipped through them absentmindedly until a thick manila envelope slid out.
The label read:
"Calista Norton — Annual Medical Examination Records."
These were the physical examination reports her family doctor had done for her over the years.
Tsk. What a healthy and boring rich-person past.
She flipped through pages of cholesterol numbers and vitamin levels with little interest, the papers rustling as they turned.
Then a sheet of paper with a different texture slipped out from the stack of normal reports and landed on her lap.
At the top was printed:
"Wildfire Project — Biomarker Correlation Appendix (Confidential Agreement Attachment 7-C)."
What the hell was this?
Below it was a string of incomprehensible biomedical terminology and abbreviated gene sequence fragments.
But in the lower-right corner were two clear electronic signatures.
Attending Physician: Peter Cooper
Responsible Director: Silas Norton
And a date.
June of this year.
The very same time her original body's father—the filthy-rich man who abandoned his wife and daughter and spent most of his time enjoying life in Europe—had suddenly and enthusiastically invited his long-unseen daughter to France for a "vacation."
Correlation agreement? Biomarkers? Confidential appendix?
Calista's brain couldn't process it all at once.
Wildfire?
Wait… that name sounded strangely familiar.
She felt like she had seen it somewhere before.
Then a cold thought suddenly slammed into her mind.
Isn't this the Wildfire Project from the Walking Dead universe!?
The outbreak of walkers was caused by the Wildfire virus leak!
And the first outbreak happened in France!
Calista remembered that in the original storyline, the surviving researcher at the Atlanta CDC had said that before losing contact with the outside world, the French claimed they were close to finding a cure.
Her original body's father, Silas Norton—the cold billionaire who made his fortune in American real estate—was rumored to have invested heavily in biotechnology companies in Europe later on.
Could he be connected to the Wildfire Project?
This was fucking insane!!!
...
If you'd like to support my work and unlock advanced chapters, you can follow me on p-@-treon.
p-@-treon/GhostParser (40 Chapters Ahead)
You can also follow as a free member to read a few advanced chapters.