W4: My Hero Fights Hunger

Figure 1

No one knows how Sethz died, or why he returned. All that is known is this: he’s a zombie, and he cooks.

In life, Sethz was a celebrated chef who believed no one should go hungry. Now, in his strange afterlife, he roams the world in a creaky old food truck, bringing warm meals to places where people have forgotten the taste of comfort.

One of his first stops was a hospital left to rot after the world turned upside down. The patients inside had long been abandoned. Most slept through the days to silence their hunger. A few wandered the halls, weak and silent, unable to bear the dreams that came with empty stomachs.

Figure 2

When Sethz arrived, the smell of his stew drifted through the broken windows. People woke up and walked towards the hall, which the smell come from. He cooked for them every day, teaching them how to turn scraps into meals. Two survivors, Zectas and Paula, had once been cooks themselves. They joined Sethz on the road, inspired by the fire in his cold hands.

Figure 3

Their journey brought them to a forgotten laboratory on the edge of a dry plain. The land was barren, but outside the lab grew a strange patch of green. Children were crouched in the dirt, chewing quietly on stalks of coriander.

Inside, they met the caretaker, a tall man with hair covering his eyes. He explained in a quiet voice that the children were artificial humans. They would not die from hunger, but they still felt it. The pain, he said, was real. He had only learned to grow coriander. It was all he had to offer them.

Zectas and Paula exchanged a long look. The children were thin, silent, and tired of the sharp taste of herbs. Sethz said nothing at first. He walked over to a child clutching a bunch of leaves and gently took them, pressing them into his own hand. Then he smiled, faintly.

They stayed.

Sethz gave the man seeds, sturdy, rare varieties he had carried for a long time. Tomatoes. Beans. Peppers. Squash. He taught the children how to plant, how to water, how to wait.

Figure 4

Inside the lab, the kitchen glowed with warmth. Zectas chopped vegetables. Paula stirred pots. Sethz worked like he was born in that kitchen, not raised from the dead. The children sat in rows, bowls in hand, eyes wide with joy as they tasted real food for the first time.

They smiled, laughed, spilled soup and asked for more. The sound filled every cold corner of the laboratory. Outside, the first green vines began to stretch toward the sun.

Paula, once a chef obsessed with order and precision, found herself working in chaos. Nothing was measured perfectly. Spices were added by instinct. The kitchen was loud and messy and alive. Somewhere between chopping a hundred onions and wiping flour from a child’s cheek, she realized she hadn’t thought about her compulsions in days. For the first time in a long while, she wasn’t anxious. She was happy.

One night, while the children were asleep, Sethz stepped outside. Zectas followed him, watching the zombie stare up at the stars with empty eyes.

“Why do you keep going?” Zectas asked.

“My reason is simple,” Sethz replied. “I like seeing people eat. I like the way they smile when they’re full.”

Zectas didn’t respond right away. His face, usually unreadable, softened. A rare smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe I’ve caught it from you,” he said. “Whatever this is.”

Figure 5

The next morning, they discovered the smallest child had drawn something in crayon, a smiling man in a chef’s hat, flanked by two humans: one tall and serious, the other with a giant spoon. Around them, little figures danced with bowls and forks.

The caretaker stared at the drawing in silence.

“Why am I not in it?” he mumbled, nearly pouting.

The children gave him a look, perfect sideways glances.

Paula and Zectas began building a simple cookbook for the children, collecting recipes, planting guides, and tips Sethz had shared with them. Weeks passed, and the lab changed. It became a garden. It became a home.

Figure 6

When the time came, Sethz prepared to leave. He never stayed in one place too long. But this time, Zectas and Paula chose to remain. They had found something worth guarding.

“We’ll take care of them,” Paula said. “We’ll teach them to cook, to grow, to share.”

Sethz simply smiled and nodded, then he stepped into his food truck.

The engine sputtered. Smoke curled into the sky. The children waved from the doorway, coriander still in one hand, bread in the other.

And Sethz drove off, toward the horizon, toward the next hunger waiting to be healed.

Figure 7