Chapter 20
There's a Zombie on Your Lawn
The morning after the breach, the farm was calm.
Suspiciously calm.
Sunlight shimmered over neat rows of weaponized horticulture. The sunflower (still unnamed, but radiating main-character energy) swayed gently.
Barbara stood in the field, tablet in hand.
"I documented everything," she said casually. "Growth patterns. Projectile velocity. Necrotic energy conversion rates. Zombie variants. Including the one with the bucket."
Jake's eyes widened slowly.
"…You took pictures."
Barbara raised an eyebrow.
"I always take pictures."
Jake looked at the field.
Then at the barn.
Then back at her.
"Barbara."
"Yes?"
"What if we don't just defend the farm."
A beat.
"What if we sell it."
Kara, who had been repairing a fence post with slightly excessive force, paused mid-bend.
"…Sell what."
Jake spread his arms dramatically.
"The experience."
Barbara tilted her head.
"You're going to need to elaborate before I decide whether to encourage or stop you."
Jake grinned.
"A video game."
Silence.
The sunflower sparkled encouragingly.
The Pitch
Jake paced in the barn like a startup founder running on caffeine and mild trauma.
"Tower defense. Bright plants. Cartoon zombies. Absurd props. Cheerful soundtrack."
Barbara's eyes sharpened.
"You want to gamify a zombie incursion."
"Yes."
"With accurate plant models."
"Yes."
"And voice acting."
Jake pointed at himself proudly.
"I will voice the unhinged plant vendor."
Kara blinked.
"…What."
Jake cleared his throat and launched into a gravelly ramble:
"Welcome to Dave's Totally Normal Plant Emporium! They're not sentient, don't ask questions!"
Barbara stared.
"That was disturbingly committed."
"I can also do the zombie dying noise."
He demonstrated.
It was… theatrical.
Kara covered her face.
"You're enjoying this."
"Immensely."
Development Begins
They converted the storage loft into a makeshift dev studio.
Barbara handled engine architecture like she'd been born inside a server rack.
UI mockups appeared within hours.
Grid-based lawn.
Sunlight currency.
Pea projectile arcs.
She turned the tablet around.
Jake froze.
It looked good.
Professional.
Polished.
The smiling sunflower bobbed in the corner as the primary resource generator.
"We can incorporate actual leyline logic for scaling difficulty," Barbara added.
Jake slowly turned.
"You're serious."
"I'm always serious."
Kara leaned over her shoulder.
"…That's adorable."
On screen, a cartoon zombie with a traffic cone stumbled forward.
Jake clutched his chest.
"He lives again."
The Song Problem
Jake snapped his fingers.
"We need a final credits song."
Barbara didn't look up.
"We do."
Kara narrowed her eyes.
"…Why are you looking at me."
Jake pointed dramatically.
"You."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
He clasped his hands together.
"Please sing about zombies on the lawn."
Kara stared at him.
"I am not singing."
"Solar-powered sunflower bobbleheads."
Silence.
"…Explain."
Jake's eyes gleamed.
"Merch."
Barbara paused typing.
"…Merch."
Jake began pacing again.
"Plush sunflower toys that glow in sunlight. Zombie figurines with detachable cones. Lawn defense starter kits. Solar bobbleheads for car dashboards. Window-mounted mini sun generators."
He steepled his fingers.
"Revenue stream for manor repairs."
Kara folded her arms.
"You're evil."
"Efficient."
Barbara tapped a few more keys.
"Domain secured."
Jake froze.
"You're joking."
"I am not."
On screen:
There's a Zombie on Your Lawn™
Jake gasped.
"The trademark symbol."
Barbara shrugged lightly.
"Hypothetically pending."
Recording Session
They set up a mic in the barn.
Jake put on a ridiculous hat he found in a crate.
He leaned into the microphone.
"WELLLL COME ON DOWN TO DAVE'S COMPLETELY SAFE GARDENING EXPERIENCE!"
Barbara nearly dropped the headset laughing.
Kara stared at him like she was reconsidering all her life choices.
"Do the zombie sound," Barbara requested.
Jake inhaled dramatically.
And delivered a slow, theatrical:
"Braaaaiiiiins…"
He followed it with an exaggerated collapse noise.
Silence.
Then—
Barbara quietly said:
"That's going in."
The Kara Situation
They cornered her at sunset.
"Just one take," Jake pleaded.
"No choreography."
"No."
"No costume."
"…Define costume."
Jake slowly hid the sunflower headband behind his back.
She sighed.
"Fine. One take."
They hit record.
Kara cleared her throat.
The sunset glowed gold over the farm.
And she sang.
Clear.
Bright.
Unexpectedly gentle.
About defending your lawn.
About sunlight and second chances.
About not letting the darkness in.
Jake stared.
Barbara stopped typing.
The sunflower swayed in time.
When she finished—
Silence lingered.
Jake blinked.
"…We're going platinum."
Kara flushed faintly.
"Delete it."
Barbara saved three backups instantly.
The Business Plan
By midnight they had:
A playable alpha build
Character sprites based on real encounters
A jingle
Merch concept sketches
Solar-powered sunflower prototypes (thanks to Dexter and Jimmy, who were bribed with beta access)
Jake leaned back in his chair.
"From zombie breach to multimedia franchise."
Barbara adjusted her glasses.
"It will need polish."
Kara looked at the screen again.
"…The sunflower is cute."
Jake smiled.
"She needs a name."
They all looked toward the field outside.
The real sunflower glowed softly in the dark.
Mew floated upside down near the ceiling.
"Mew."
Barbara tilted her head.
"Helia."
Jake blinked.
"…Helia?"
"Derived from sun."
Kara nodded slowly.
"…I like it."
Jake smiled.
"Helia it is."
Outside, the real sunflower pulsed warmly.
As if approving branding rights.
Final Shot
The farm stood quiet.
Protected.
Monetized.
Somewhere in another dimension—
A zombie with a bucket paused mid-shamble.
Confused.
As if aware it had been turned into intellectual property.
And far away—
A certain game studio executive felt an inexplicable disturbance in the market.
Jake leaned back in his chair.
"Next expansion pack," he murmured.
Barbara didn't look up.
"Don't."
Kara crossed her arms.
"…You're thinking about it."
Jake grinned.
"Moon zombies."
Mew sparkled.
The sunflower glowed.
And the farm prepared for launch day.
End Chapter 20.