Apocalypse: The Supporting Actress Made a Comeback
Chapter 455 - 252 Greed (Second Update)_2

Chapter 455: 252 Greed (Second Update)_2

She paused here, unable to help glancing at her injured arm. A glimmer of sadness flashed in her gaze. The blood oozing from the grotesque wound had turned black, indicating that she had been infected by the zombie virus. Unless she awakened as a superpower user, she had only one path left—death.

How incredibly difficult it was for ordinary people to become superpower users? Even the young might not be able to awaken, let alone someone her age. What chance did she have?

She didn’t have much time left, and this young man before her was now her only kin. It was frustrating that this usually sensible man, well-educated as he was, had chosen such a moment to snap and utter such words to their savior!

She could understand the young man’s feelings, but if she was of no use, could she really blame others? If it weren’t for those two young people, all of them would have perished! How could he not see that? Besides, the road ahead was uncertain, and they had been lucky so far to encounter two experts. If they could stick with them, their safety was somewhat assured. His words were not only ungrateful but would also likely offend those who could protect them!

In the end, if those people left, who would care whether they lived or died?

Yet all these thoughts were her private concerns; how could she speak them aloud in front of their saviors?

Fortunately, the young man wasn’t entirely foolish. After being scolded, he painfully grasped his hair, crouched down, and wept softly, continuously wiping his tears.

The middle-aged woman sighed; after all, this was her nephew. The two who had died were her brother and sister-in-law. Now that they were gone, and died so tragically, how could she not grieve? Yet ultimately, it was their own bad luck and lack of strength for which no one else could be blamed.

Others who heard her earlier outburst couldn’t help but bow their heads in shame. They might not have spoken up, but internal grievances had festered. The middle-aged woman’s stern reproach made them realize how close they had been to becoming ungrateful wretches.

At that moment, a young man who looked about thirty years old came over. His demeanor was gentle, and he had a ruggedly handsome face combined with a mild temperament that easily engendered goodwill.

He was cradling a little girl in his arms. She appeared to be around four or five years old, her fair-faced complexion enhanced by big, bright eyes. Her skin was fair but beneath it ran red veins, and her hands were small and frail. Despite possibly being malnourished, she looked quite pretty, just with dry, yellowing hair intertwined like little chicken claws.

The girl was wrapped in a thick canvas coat. The man held her cautiously in his arms as if carrying a precious jewel. He frowned slightly, speaking softly, "Let’s find somewhere to bury the bodies first."

After saying this, he lowered his eyes, concealing the sorrow and despair beneath. He had seen everything that had happened and could roughly guess the middle-aged woman’s thoughts. His own thoughts were similar, perhaps even more selfish. Like the middle-aged woman, he too was injured, his back lacerated by zombies.

The car window had been smashed by zombies, their sharp claws reaching in. He had pressed his daughter down on the seat, shielding her in his embrace, resulting in injuries to his back.

He didn’t know if he could survive; after all, the chances of awakening were terribly slim and his health wasn’t strong to begin with — hardly the profile of a lucky survivor.

But if he died, what would happen to his daughter? She was only six, so young and knowing so little. To others, she would be nothing but a burden. Her mother was already dead; if he died too, who would protect and care for her?

He desperately hoped to entrust his daughter to the two young people, but he knew such a request was likely to be refused. Even if these youngsters were strong, what reason did they have to encumber themselves with a burdensome girl?

Just the thought of his daughter being abandoned and dying miserably tore his heart apart. His back burned painfully as the zombie virus continued to ravage his body. He felt his strength fading little by little, his daughter growing heavier in his arms until he could barely hold her.

At that moment, he heard his daughter’s soft voice, "Daddy, what’s wrong? Your face is all sweaty, are you uncomfortable?" The girl spoke, pulling a small handkerchief from her pocket and gently wiping the cold sweat from his face.

The man’s face was pale, even ashen—which the girl didn’t understand, yet she noticed something terribly wrong with how "Daddy" looked.

Lifting her head from his chest, her big eyes bewildered, she quietly asked, "Daddy, you look so sick, are you ill?" After speaking, she furrowed her brow and started to whimper, "Huanhuan doesn’t want Daddy to be ill. Can you please not be ill, Daddy?"

Despite her age, she vaguely understood that her always-loved mom had gone to a place from which she would never return. Remembering how her face had looked when she left—that same terrible look—she recalled her father mentioning her mother had been ill.

Was Daddy now sick with the same illness as Mommy? Would he leave forever just like Mommy?

Thinking of this, fear overwhelmed her, and she couldn’t help but hug her father’s neck and cry softly. She dared not cry loudly, as Daddy had told her that loud cries could attract the bad guys. She didn’t want to attract the bad guys; they could harm her Daddy.

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