Chapter 474: A Strange Village

Chapter 474: Chapter 474: A Strange Village

Zoe Sawyer stepped aside, opening up a partial view through the door, and asked.

Evan Keller and the others looked through. Their pupils contracted sharply before they nodded. "We can see it. It’s the scene!"

But all they saw was a pregnant woman digging a pit. There wasn’t a soul in sight. So what exactly was this "scene"?

"Digging a pit... to bury a body? Or is she planning to kill herself?" Evan Keller’s voice was filled with uncertainty.

Zoe Sawyer controlled the door, panning the view around the scene, but she didn’t spot anything else out of place.

There was only one small path through the entire forest, and the ground was covered in fallen leaves. The path itself showed only a single set of footprints.

Afraid of missing something, Zoe Sawyer quickly pulled the view back to its original position, her eyes fixed on the woman, waiting to see what would happen next.

The woman’s pregnancy made the work difficult; she dug in fits and starts.

"That woman... she looks a little familiar," Sean Hughes said, frowning as he stared at Rivers in the distance. His tone was pensive.

’I must have seen that face somewhere before.’

"Rivers, how’s it coming along?" Just as Zoe Sawyer and the others thought she would keep digging, a head suddenly popped out of the ground not far from the pregnant woman.

The woman called Rivers set down her tools, wiped the sweat from her brow, and looked up with a smile. "Mrs. Ford, I’m done digging. We can bring the person over now."

"Perfect! I’ve already dragged one over!" Mrs. Ford’s eyes lit up. She ducked back down and, less than a minute later, climbed out of the small hole, dragging something heavy. "Melody, put some muscle into it! There’s a whole bunch of them back in the village. At this rate, we’ll fall behind on the rest."

As soon as she finished speaking, Mrs. Ford gave a great heave and finally pulled the object all the way out.

The lumpy object was wrapped in a black sack. Mrs. Ford struggled to drag it toward Rivers, leaving a clear drag mark on the ground.

"That damn old hag sure ate a lot. Well, look at her now, she’s dead!"

Mrs. Ford dragged the sack to the edge of the pit and, with a grunt, kicked it in.

The poorly tied sack came open, revealing the pale face of a gaunt, elderly woman with her eyes shut tight.

The old woman’s silver hair was plastered messily to her face, and a blackish substance stained the corner of her mouth.

"They’re murderers... and they’re burying the body?" Zoe Sawyer’s expression changed drastically. Evan Keller and the others checked their gear and were just about to mobilize to arrest them when another head popped out of the hole.

"Mrs. Ford, give us a hand! This dead fatso is heavy as hell! The two of us can’t push him up on our own," a young woman yelled, sticking her head out and shouting at the other two.

Mrs. Ford, who had been standing with her hands on her hips cursing, heard the cry and hurried over. She worked with the other woman to pull up the "dead fatso" she’d mentioned.

"I’m exhausted. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have slacked off last night. We should’ve just brought them over then."

The woman who had just called for help slumped weakly over the edge of the hole. Though she was complaining, her eyes were shining brightly.

After speaking, she looked at Mrs. Ford with a face full of anticipation and asked, "Mrs. Ford, once we bury all these people, will we be free?"

Rivers, who had been standing silently to the side, also looked at Mrs. Ford, her eyes filled with the same hope.

’Freedom.’

’For the person she used to be, that one word was like an unattainable fairytale.’

’But now!’

’The thing she had always dreamed of was right in front of her. She couldn’t wait to leave.’

"You will be. Don’t worry," Mrs. Ford said, sitting cross-legged on the ground, her eyes glued to the pit before them.

Inside lay an old woman and a portly man.

"Once we’ve dealt with all of them, you all can go. Leave the rest to me," Mrs. Ford said, subconsciously rubbing her lower leg as she spoke.

The movement hitched up her pant leg slightly, revealing a gruesome wound underneath.

The edges of the wound were covered in pink granulation tissue, as if it were healing, but a piece of whitened, dry bone protruded from the very center, surrounded by oozing pus.

Shocked expressions appeared on the faces of Zoe Sawyer and the others.

They had noticed Mrs. Ford’s strange gait earlier but had assumed it was just from dragging the heavy weight.

They never expected her lower leg was so severely injured.

Yet, from start to finish, Mrs. Ford’s expression had been calm. She didn’t seem like someone with an injured leg at all.

When Rivers and the other woman’s eyes fell upon the exposed bone, a look of pain flashed across their faces. Rivers then picked up where Mrs. Ford had left off, "We can’t do that. We don’t know this area at all. Without you to guide us, Mrs. Ford, we could just end up wandering in circles. It’d be even worse if we got lost."

The other woman quickly chimed in, "Exactly! Besides, once we drag everyone over, we can just work a little harder to dig the pit bigger. Then we can fit them all in.

Once that’s done, we’ll leave together. No one will ever find this place."

’Even if someone does find it later, it won’t matter. By then, we’ll be long gone from this godforsaken place. Whatever happens, it won’t be traced back to us!’

Mrs. Ford shook her head. "Melody knows the way. Enough talk. Get back to work.

We don’t have many days left. If someone finds us, we won’t be able to leave even if we want to."

It seemed Rivers and the other woman wanted to say more, but they shut their mouths under Mrs. Ford’s glare.

"Zoe, move the door. Find their village.

We need to determine the total number of victims and how many are still alive," Evan Keller said, his face grim. He pointed in the direction of the path.

There’s only one path around here. Following it will most likely lead us to the village where these three are from.

And based on the three women’s conversation, Zoe Sawyer and the others had a bad feeling.

’The people in the village... were probably all dead or dying.’

"Right!" Zoe Sawyer didn’t hesitate. She manipulated the door, moving the view along the path they had just seen.

After about ten minutes of "walking" this way, they finally spotted a remote village.

Looking down from a hilltop perspective, the village consisted of just a dozen or so scattered houses, but they were all built very close to each other.

A wooden fence encircled the village, with sharp spikes wrapped around it.

It was daytime, yet the village was eerily quiet. Not a sound could be heard—not even the clucking of chickens or quacking of ducks.

A bad feeling washed over Zoe Sawyer. She controlled the door, rapidly pulling the view into the village.

There, on a flat clearing in the center of the village, were several large tables laden with chicken, duck, fish, and other meats. The dishes were all half-eaten.

And on the ground, people lay scattered about in disarray.

There were elderly men and women, as well as strong, young men.

But Zoe Sawyer noticed that among those lying on the ground, there were very few women.