Reborn with Nothing but My Farm and Vengeance in the Apocalypse novel Chapter 542

Chapter 542: Chapter 542: Three-colored Parasitic Wasp

Grace Sutton’s mind was still reeling from the image of Howard Fletcher killing Zara Walsh. When someone suddenly grabbed her wrist, she jumped in terror.

Grace Sutton instinctively jerked her arm, violently shaking off the hand that had grabbed her.

She spun around to see a man and a woman standing before her.

The man looked to be about fifty. His hair was graying, his body was hunched, and his cheeks were sunken. His mouth and eyes were slightly crooked, perhaps due to some illness, and a bit of drool hung from the corner of his lips.

The woman beside him also appeared to be in her fifties. Her eyes were red and swollen like walnuts, narrowed to mere slits, as if she had been crying for a very long time. Her gaze was vacant, and it was unclear whether she was looking at Grace Sutton or into the empty space before her.

Seeing how filthy the pair was, Grace Sutton assumed they were refugees who had come to beg. "...I don’t have anything!" she said hurriedly. "...I don’t have any food or money in the house. You... you should go ask somewhere else!"

Grace Sutton felt a pang of guilt for lying and uncomfortably averted her gaze. But she had no other choice.

If she gave them food, they would very likely latch onto her and refuse to leave. Worse, they might call others over, and she’d have a whole group at her door trying to rob her. That would be a disaster.

But the man and woman showed no intention of leaving. The man opened his drooling mouth and mumbled, "...Daugh... daughter... looking for my... daughter..."

His speech was slurred, and Grace Sutton couldn’t understand him at all. Seeing his crooked mouth and eyes, she just assumed he was mentally unhinged.

Grace Sutton cautiously backed up two steps, slowly making her way to her front door. "...I really don’t have any food to give you," she told them. "If you keep going forward, you’ll reach the supply distribution point. They have mushrooms there."

As she spoke, she raised a hand and pointed in the direction of the supply point. Since the torrential rains began, the quantity of Desert Vines had plummeted. Thankfully, edible fungi like mushrooms and wood ear, which thrived in damp environments, had begun to proliferate wildly.

During this period, the disaster relief rations distributed at the supply point had changed from sand vine cakes to mushrooms and wood ear boiled in salt water. Everyone who had long grown sick of sand vine cakes cheered for the change in fare.

However, the man and woman in front of her didn’t seem to hear a word she said. The man, still drooling, slurred, "...Call... daughter... my own daughter... food box..."

He moved forward as he spoke, reaching for Grace Sutton’s hand.

As the man approached, a foul, sour stench washed over her—the smell of mildew from days of dampness without sun, mixed with the grime of an unwashed body. Overwhelmed by the odor, Grace Sutton stumbled back. She hastily covered her nose and fumbled with the door, desperate to get back inside.

Seeing Grace Sutton get inside the villa and try to shut the door, the man grew frantic. He lunged forward, wedging his body in the doorway to keep her from closing it.

He was still mumbling indistinctly. "...Let me... in... you bitch..."

Those two words, Grace Sutton understood perfectly.

Hearing the man trying to force his way into her home while calling her a bitch, her eyes flew wide with fury.

Any shred of sympathy she’d felt vanished instantly. Seeing the man trying to squeeze through the gap, Grace Sutton grabbed the garden hoe from behind the door, jabbed it hard into his stomach, and shoved him back outside!

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