Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition Chapter 1288: Story 1288: The Farm That Fed Flesh

Chapter 1288: Story 1288: The Farm That Fed Flesh

They left the Vault shaken, silenced.

Even H-13, with all its emotionless logic, hesitated to process what they’d seen—echoes of humanity looping forever in glass prisons, minds screaming across decades without form. It wasn’t a lab; it was a graveyard of thought.

The feral children waited in silence when they erged. No questions. No cries. Just the sa still, alert gaze. They knew.

“Where to now?” Shade asked, reloading a half-empty clip.

Axen, grim as ever, simply pointed northwest. “There’s one last route through the Deadlands. A forgotten place.”

They moved under twilight skies, where the ash fell like black snow. Eventually, a wide plain opened before them—brown, cracked soil riddled with irrigation pipes and chanical scarecrows slumped like executed sentries.

The air reeked of iron and rot.

A shattered sign marked the entrance:

VIREX BIO-DIVISION 12

Agro-Regen Project: Phase Oga

“We Grow What You Are.”

H-13 paused. “I rember this file. They designed nutrient farms to recycle biomass. For famine prevention.”

Shade sniffed the air, face contorting. “That’s not corn.”

Rows of low, humming greenhouses stretched into the fog. Solar dos still blinked, flickering on ergency power. Vines grew wild across the path, thick and pulsing—not like plants, but like veins.

Axen pushed open a rusted door.

And the sll hit them.

Inside was no ordinary farm. It was a repurposed at reactor, where synthetic proteins were grown using cellular samples. VIREX had taken bio-waste—skin, muscle, brain matter—and converted it into edible mass.

Only, they hadn’t stopped there.

Pods hung from the ceiling like oversized fruits. Each one held a fetus-like form suspended in gel. So had facial features. So had mouths frozen mid-scream. Others twitched.

“God,” Juno breathed. “They were growing people.”

“No,” H-13 corrected. “They were growing food.”

On the walls were notes:

“Batch 44: Too much nerve density. Reassigned to Disposal.”

“Batch 52: Reject—vocal cords still active.”

“Batch 60: Acceptable for frontline rations.”

Axen clenched his fists. “This was after the Supply Collapse. When they ran out of clean at. They tried to solve starvation with cloned tissue. Then the Shepherd program suggested… enhancents.”

Shade kicked over a crate. Inside were al packs labeled: “Human-Safe Protein, Blend 9-G.” So bore tags that read “Compassion Clearance Required.”

They turned a corner and found a field of open soil.

Dozens of vines rose from the dirt.

At the tip of each? A human head.

Half-ford, twitching, trying to scream without throats.

They weren’t just growing at.

They were harvesting consciousness.

And feeding it back to survivors.

Juno backed away in horror. “How many people… ate this?”

Axen didn’t respond.

But the girl with white eyes did.

“All of us,” she said.

Then she looked at Juno.

“And so of us… still rember the taste.”