In another villa in Prosperity Gardens, Mr. and Mrs. Grant were shouting at the top of their lungs, cursing at the refugees relentlessly knocking on their door.
"This is our house! Why should we open the door for you?"
"Take shelter from the rain? Go find shelter somewhere else! We're not opening this door!"
By early morning, Jed Grant had already cursed out and driven away several groups of people.
But different people kept coming to their door, begging to be let in to stay.
"Dad, that's enough. They can't get in."
Liam Grant stopped Jed Grant, who was standing under the eaves.
"We still have to drive them away. We have so many supplies here. If someone gets in, who wouldn't be green with envy?" said Mrs. Grant, Susan Warner.
A few days ago, her son had brought them to the city, telling them the apocalypse was coming. He had filled this house from top to bottom with supplies, and it would be bad if those people outside found out.
