Girl's Doomsday Rebirth Revenge & Survive novel Chapter 273

Chapter 273 Steven Yeoman

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Then a bolder man–the middle–aged one who had screamed the loudest that his daughter was dead- started wailing and raising a scene. “My girl! My girl is dead! Your army gave us no pay, and now you want to sweep this under the rug?!”

The man was Steven Yeoman. He was 35. Before the end times he’d been a drunk. His wife left long ago, and he was raising their daughter alone. He used to beat the girl when he drank. After the world fell apart, having a child with him meant he could grab more supplies. He milked that for all it was worth.

He always thought his daughter was a burden–something that would be married off someday. He didn’t bother to care for her. Back then he hadn’t even given the girl a proper mother; he left to demand child support so he could buy liquor.

At the shelter he often stole the girl’s food and traded it for booze. Even if two slices of plain bread could get him a single sip, he’d do it.

The girl was never full. She was small and thin and couldn’t handle the cold.

And last night she suddenly died.

Was he truly heartbroken? Not really. He was sad his daughter was gone, yes, but more than that he was sad he’d lost his last reason to ask for supplies.

He thought up a bigger scene so he could squeeze a good price out of this last “deal” and milk his daughter’s last value.

Now he held his four–year–old daughter in his arms. For pity points he even lifted the girl’s body and shoved it toward Francis. “Look–such a small little girl. This is the future of our people! Is this how your army works? You want to make big things small and small things disappear?”

“I’ve already looked into it,” Francis said. “Last night you were on duty in your room. The firewood was right there, but you didn’t add any! Five people in the whole shelter died. Three were in your room. I haven’t even punished you yet, and you’re already blaming the army. Stop the screaming. Take him away. Bring him out.”

Francis waved his hand. His head hurt. Rations were already tight. These people were wasting time.

When the others heard that the man had been on duty and hadn’t fed the stove, causing not only his daughter but also others to die, the small group that had been fired up calmed down.

Two soldiers stepped forward and grabbed the man to pull him out.

Steven panicked and planted himself in front, holding his daughter like a shield. He used her body as a shield.

More than once the dead girl’s limp body slapped into the soldiers‘ faces.

“I’d like to see who dares touch me!”

The soldiers hesitated. They pitied the girl, and their hands froze midair. One of them turned to Francis.

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Chapter 273 Steven Yeoman

“Colonel Sutton…”

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“The dead deserve respect! What are you doing here?” Francis barked, “Come with us. Give your daughter a proper burial. The army will handle this fairly. Don’t make a scene.”

He really wanted to shoot the man right then and there. But with Nathaniel’s orders in mind–and so many people watching–he shoved the gun back into its holster,

Hearing that the army would “handle it,” Steven finally let out a shaky sigh.

He knew better than to push his luck. He glanced up at the gate to the 64th floor, realizing he’d acted on impulse when he came to cause trouble here. Maybe it was time to back off.

But just as he took a step back, a cold, gloomy voice rose from the crowd behind him. “Sir, you said not to make trouble here–is it because you’re afraid of the people on the 66th floor? Sounded like you were dodging the question just now. We came here for fairness, not just over that child who died last night.

“And you–yeah, you, man,” the voice went on, “you’re the one who led us up here, said we’d demand justice and get more supplies from the 66th floor. Now what? You’re backing out already? Looks like you got your share, huh? And we came up for nothing. Next time they call us troublemakers and ship us off to the rear area, who’s gonna speak up for us then?”

When he finished, Steven froze mid–step. His grip on the girl’s body tightened again. “I …”

Francis’s eyebrows drew together in a hard line.

Inside the door, Caroline frowned as well.

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