Steel Processing Plant (Seeking Collections, Seeking Votes)

Two days later, June 17.

After two days buried in paperwork, Leon felt his inspiration utterly drained, unable to think through any problem anymore.

Fortunately, his hard work had paid off considerably. With the help of the AI system Red Queen, he had logged all employee wages, benefits, and material prices into the computer, completing the initial draft of the system.

Once all the staff gathered at the base, he would announce the official implementation of this policy.

He could also gradually refine the system based on actual results.

To clear his mind and gather intel on the area around the CDC, Leon finished the special breakfast Amy had prepared for him, then drove out in his blue off-road sports car.

Today's main task was to check out the Metal Building Materials Factory that Dr. Melpha had marked, to see if there was anything useful there.

The factory was about two kilometers from the CDC. Normally, it would take only five minutes by car, but the roads were badly clogged, many blocked by abandoned vehicles. Leon had to change routes three times, taking nearly half an hour, before finally reaching the factory.

Just as the doctor had said, it was a small facility, covering only about 2,000 square meters.

In the center stood a rectangular workshop over 1,000 square meters, about ten meters high and single-story. Not far to the right were five blue two-story warehouses made of corrugated iron, likely storage buildings.

The last notable structure was a two-story office building near the factory gate.

All these buildings had their doors tightly shut, making it impossible to see inside from outside.

Leon parked his sports car in a corner about a hundred meters from the factory, quietly bypassed the main gate surrounded by a dozen zombies, and chose to climb over a section of the perimeter wall.

The factory grounds were quiet. As far as he could see, only three or four zombies were wandering outside the buildings.

Leon didn't investigate the workshop or warehouses first—both had closed doors and unknown conditions, not a priority for reconnaissance.

He hugged the inner wall, steadied his breathing, lightened his steps, and crept slowly along the wall from where he'd climbed over, heading toward the gate.

Two minutes later, Leon reached the factory gate. He noticed it was a fence-style gate made of dozens of vertical steel pipes welded side by side, with gaps of only about ten centimeters—too narrow for humans or zombies to pass through.

The gate was half-open, not fully closed, leaving a gap wide enough for three zombies to walk through side by side.

Leon pressed against the inner wall and thought, a bit regretful that he hadn't brought a music-playing toy this time.

Otherwise, he could have used it to draw the zombies' attention.

Then he noticed a nearly brand-new Czech Car about ten meters from the gate. On a whim, he pulled out his silenced pistol from his waist, raised it to eye level, and aimed for three seconds.

Pfft!

Crash!

The Czech Car's windshield shattered on cue, and the ear-piercing alarm blared out.

It immediately caught the attention of the zombies near the gate.

They dragged their rotting bodies, limping toward the still-wailing car.

Once the zombies had moved a bit farther away, Leon grinned, strode quickly to the factory gate, pulled the metal door shut with a clang, slid the bolt home, and locked all the zombies outside.

After closing the gate, Leon didn't leave. He drew the military knife strapped to his thigh and taunted the zombie horde outside:

"Come on, you mutts! Your grandpa's right here—come bite me!"

As it turned out, a human voice attracted zombies more than a car alarm.

After he shouted a few times, all the zombies locked onto him, swaying and shambling back over.

Leon crossed his arms and watched calmly until the zombies were packed together, all cramming their heads into the gaps between the steel pipes. Then he strolled over to them, knife in hand.

Through the sturdy factory gate, he held the knife level at eye height.

Thunk—in it went. Slish—out it came.

With a stench of foul blood, thud, one zombie lost its spark.

He remembered Rick and the others killing zombies like this in the prison—so simple, like tightening screws in a factory. Leon found it amusing, muttered a mock under his breath, but his hands never slowed.

"Let me hear what's rattling in your heads."

Thunk! Slish!

Thunk! Slish!

Thunk! Slish!

In just two minutes, with hardly any effort, those dozen or so zombies were dead by his blade.

Why hadn't Rick and the others made better use of such a method?

When killing zombies could be this easy, why risk their lives?

Staring at the corpses on the ground, Leon's mind raced with many valuable ideas.

He opened the factory gate, dragged the bodies aside so they wouldn't interfere with later work, and found a wooden stick. Then he walked slowly to the workshop door in the center of the factory.

The door wasn't locked, just pulled shut lightly. To open it, you had to push from outside or pull from inside.

Funny—are they betting zombies don't have the brains to pull a door?

Leon cracked a joke to himself and gently pushed the door open.

The moment it swung open, he saw three or four large Stamping and Cutting Machines and dozens of zombies beside them. These zombies wore hard hats and blue worker uniforms. They had forgotten all memory and instinct, blindly wandering the space they'd been trapped in.

Leon couldn't make out the exact number from outside the door—roughly thirty. The moment they heard the gate creak open, they reacted instantly, turning dozens of rotting eyes toward the figure standing in the doorway.

Hiss! Ooooh!

As if glimpsing the most delicious meal, these zombies snapped out of their daze and surged back to life.

They lurched forward, charging at Leon with all the speed they could muster.

"Sigh, back to the grind."

Facing dozens of charging zombies, Leon felt no pressure at all. He moved in stops and starts, keeping a distance of about thirty meters, leading these subordinates slowly toward the factory gate.

Repeating the trick, he dashed outside, reached in to slide the bolt home, and locked the monsters firmly inside the factory.

Leon crossed his arms, humming a tune, watching with amusement as dozens of zombies piled up against the metal gate, cramming every inch.

They stretched out their hands, mouths agape, eyes locked on the living man before them, their hungry expressions like demons clawing their way out of hell.

Leon lit a cigar first, took a couple of puffs, then pulled the dagger from his thigh.

Thwack! Splatter!

Thwack! Splatter!

Thwack! Splatter!

Half an hour later, Leon had cleared every zombie in the factory using this method.

Over eighty corpses formed a small mound outside the factory gate. If you hadn't seen it with your own eyes, you'd hardly believe one man had taken down all these monsters alone.

After the fight, Leon felt a swell of pride and decided to wander around the factory, tallying his spoils.

Suddenly, he clapped his hands, remembering something.

How could a hero return in triumph without beauties and subordinates cheering him on?

With that thought, Leon went back to his off-road sports car, grabbed a radio communicator, flipped the switch, and said:

"Hey, Amy, I am your Boss."

"Bring a few people and drive a truck over to my location right now."

"I've got a job for you. Follow the route I tell you."

"Hurry over, and don't forget to bring me an iced cola and a fresh shirt."