Leon looked toward the metal door that led into the kitchen's back area, the sound had come from there.
He moved slowly, without rushing, placing each step carefully so he wouldn't kick any of the scattered junk across the floor. Only when he was right up against the door did he lean in and glance through the narrow, grime-smeared window set into the metal.
A sour, metallic stench leaked through the seams of the door, thick enough that Leon instinctively slowed his breathing before even seeing what waited on the other side.
The kitchen was cramped. Stainless counters, carts, hanging shelves, everything packed tight. And between all of it stood about ten zombies, shuffling lazily with their heads cocked at wrong angles, limbs dragging like they'd forgotten how joints were supposed to work.
For a fraction of a second, nothing happened.
Then, almost in perfect unison, they turned their heads toward him. Empty. Mechanical.
They'd sensed life.
