Chapter 22: Livestock

The alarm continued to echo through Raviah’s mind long after she left the military base.

The world had begun to change far too early.

She had no time to waste.

If the crops were already showing signs of mutation and livestock were dying in the coastal regions, then the animals she raised on her farm had to be protected before the same phenomenon reached them.

Food could not depend entirely on fields. A functioning farm needed animals.

Chickens were essential for eggs and meat. Cattle provided milk, meat, leather, and breeding stock. Goats offered milk and could survive on rougher vegetation, while pigs ensured efficient meat production. Rabbits were added for rapid reproduction.

She even added ducks and a small number of sheep after consulting agricultural specialists. Every species had a purpose, representing another layer of survival.

Within days, Sol Haven began purchasing livestock from farms throughout the surrounding provinces. Raviah refused to buy animals simply because they were cheap, insisting on healthy breeding stock.

Veterinary records were inspected, and vaccination histories were thoroughly reviewed. Animals showing signs of illness, weakness, abnormal growth, or unexplained behavioral changes were rejected immediately.

She personally inspected dozens of shipments. The first arrival came just before sunrise, filling the valley with the sounds of frightened chickens as transport crates were unloaded beside the newly completed poultry barns.

Thousands of birds were moved into climate-controlled enclosures equipped with automated feeding systems, clean water lines, ventilation, and temperature monitoring. The workers barely had time to finish before another convoy appeared.

Cattle came next, followed swiftly by goats, pigs, and rabbits.

By the end of the week, the once-empty livestock section had become a living, breathing part of the farm. The valley sounded entirely different now.

Cattle lowed from the northern barns while goats bleated from their fenced pasture. Chickens scattered across enclosed runs, and pigs grunted beneath the shelter of their reinforced pens.

For the first time since Raviah had purchased the property, the farm no longer felt like a construction site. It felt alive.

However, livestock required deep practical knowledge. Machines could be automated, irrigation could be programmed, and seeds could be stored, but animals were different.

They became sick, they reproduced, they fought, and they required constant observation.

So Raviah hired people who had spent decades working with livestock. Experienced farmers arrived from rural communities across the province.

Some had managed cattle ranches for thirty years, while others specialized in poultry, swine, dairy goats, or mixed agricultural systems. Raviah gathered them together inside the main farmhouse.

"I don’t need people who simply know how to feed animals," she told them, looking around the room. "I need people who know how to keep an entire livestock system alive when outside assistance no longer exists."

The farmers exchanged serious looks.

An elderly man finally raised his head and asked, "How bad are you expecting things to get?"

Raviah paused, meeting his gaze. "Bad enough that you should teach my workers everything you know."

That single statement was enough. Training began immediately.

Workers learned how to identify early signs of infection, manage breeding cycles, maintain sanitation, deliver difficult births, recognize nutritional deficiencies, preserve animal feed, and handle injuries.

They learned how to rotate grazing areas, preserve manure for fertilizer, maintain breeding records, and isolate sick animals. Most importantly, they learned how to function without depending on outside veterinary services.

Raviah had the agricultural engineer integrate the livestock system into the rest of the farm. Animal waste would be processed into compost, while crop residues and unused vegetable portions supplemented animal feed.

Manure would return nutrients to the fields so that nothing was wasted. It was the beginning of a closed agricultural cycle, which was exactly what Raviah needed.

Every day, the transformation of the valley accelerated.

Greenhouses stretched across the western fields, and rows of young fruit trees covered the northern slope. Grain fields swayed beneath the wind.

Underground storage chambers were packed with food, seeds, medicine, and equipment. Solar panels covered the western hillside, and water flowed through newly installed filtration systems.

Security towers watched the surrounding forests while livestock filled the barns. The property was rapidly becoming what Raviah had envisioned. It was not merely a fortress, but a self-sustaining agricultural base capable of producing food long after the outside world stopped functioning.

That evening, Raviah walked through the eastern fields with one of the agricultural supervisors. The sun was disappearing behind the distant mountains.

Golden light spread across the farmland, illuminating rows of crops and casting long shadows across the freshly tilled earth. For a moment, everything looked peaceful.

It felt too peaceful lately...

Raviah stopped near the edge of a newly planted field, her eyes narrowing. "What is that?"

The supervisor followed her gaze toward a dark patch in the soil. "Nothing, Doctor Solomon. Just irrigation runoff."

Raviah studied the ground carefully. The soil there looked significantly darker than the surrounding earth. She crouched and touched it with her bare fingers. It was cold, unnaturally cold.

Frowning, she stood up. "Take a sample."

The supervisor immediately called for one of the agricultural workers. A young man hurried over carrying a small sampling kit. He knelt and began digging carefully into the dark soil. At first, nothing seemed unusual. Then his shovel struck something hard beneath the surface.

Clink.

He froze.

Raviah’s eyes narrowed instantly. "Again."

The worker dug deeper, driving the blade down.

Clink.

This time, the sound was unmistakably metallic.

He cleared away the loose dirt with his gloved hands. A strange, dark material emerged beneath the soil. It was not rock, it was not machinery, and it was not any plant root Raviah had ever seen.

The worker stared down into the hole, his posture stiffening. "Doctor..."

"What is it?" she asked, stepping to the brink of the pit.

His face had gone completely pale. "There’s something growing around it."

Raviah stepped closer to inspect the strange mass. Thin black veins were spreading rapidly through the soil from the buried object.

They pulsed faintly in the twilight.

It was as though something deep beneath the earth was slowly breathing.

Raviah’s expression hardened into ice. The apocalypse had only just begun, and something terrifying had already reached her farm.