He smelled cooking coming from the kitchen at the back of the house and thought he heard someone moving around back there, the sounds of pots and pans... forks and knives.Peter stepped into the kitchen. He could feel the warmth of the stove on his face. "Ms Franklin?" he called again.The kitchen seemed to be empty. Peter walked around the kitchen table where various steaming dishes full of food had been laid out. He stood in front of the stove, scratching his head. There were two pots boiling on. That’s bullshit. It hurts for a second. Then you die. Then you’re undead. Then you’re hungry forever, and that hurts. That hurts more than dying to some monster, because at least then you’re dead. You’re not hurting yourself, or other people because of what you’ve become. The fuck with Zombies, or other unintelligent monsters. Get bitten, and that’s it. Mindless corpse. You’re body’s a host, but your mind, and soul is gone. At least you’re dead. …but that’s the point. They always die, or turn. More

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