Eh? You want to try the humanoid girl's iron fist too?

If they were people of dark race, they might have already opened fire; they wouldn't be saying all this nonsense to Raphael, who had broken into their guard distance.

"Who are you!"

"Navy Officer, may I lower my left hand and retrieve my identification?"

Raphael slowly lowered his left hand, hoping the soldiers approaching from both directions of the bridge wouldn't fire off. Repairing this body would be troublesome; not only would it require replenishing the biological materials needed for repair, but also replacing internal mechanical parts.

"Slow down, put your hands where we can see them."

"Don't be nervous, I need to get my ID, okay?"

“All right, slow down. Otherwise, we’ll shoot!” Sergeant Joey Danny replied, though by then he was pretty sure the other man wasn’t a thug.

Furthermore, the fact that she chose to use her left hand to take the documents, rather than her right hand which would allow her to draw the gun more quickly, indicates that she had no intention of attacking.

"Relax, I am not your enemy."

Raphael took out his identification, tossed it to Danny's feet, and said:

"Have your comrade come closer and squat down next to you to check. Oh, you've been issued individual radios; you can ask your captain to contact your superiors to verify the authenticity of your credentials."

"Best, come here quickly, Best!"

Danny called out several times before Best, who was providing cover with a gun on the other side, finally turned on his radio and called his captain back. The captain hesitated for several minutes until backup arrived at his location before Danny crossed the road and walked to Best's side.

Raphael frowned at the efficiency.

"What happened?"

Best's face clearly showed his displeasure. His displeasure was not only directed at Raphael, but also at his companions, and expressed his disgust for the terrible environment of New York.

"Check the identification documents at my feet, and remember to contact the captain so he can confirm them."

Best slowly crouched down, his eyes fixed on Raphael and the wide street behind her as he reached for the ID. If anything seemed amiss, he wouldn't hesitate to take down the guy in front of him as well.

While Best was verifying the documents, Raphael was already chatting with Danny.

The unit ordered to block the Williamsonburg Bridge was the 27th Infantry Brigade Combat Team of the 42nd Infantry Division, also known as the New York National Guard, so its poor efficiency was to be expected.

They were divided into two groups, each controlling one end of the Williamsburg Bridge, to cooperate with CDC staff in customs and quarantine procedures and to ensure connectivity between Manhattan and Brooklyn.

The New York government has stated publicly that they have not abandoned Manhattan. Since they haven't abandoned it, they cannot cut off life support.

However, Raphael thought that the identity information provided by the employer seemed to be genuine.

Who exactly hired her? Perhaps not a person, but a powerful department that has access to personnel files.

Now she felt more confident.

At least they won't be targeted or attacked by the army carrying out the blockade mission because of their identity.

"Yes, sir...she's right across from me...received..."

Best released the button, his tense nerves relaxing with each slow exhale of filtered air. He returned with the identification, respectfully handed it back to Raphael, stood at attention, saluted, and loudly proclaimed:

“I’m sorry to have startled you, Lieutenant. Please come with us; it’s no longer safe around Broadway.”

“It’s alright, this is fulfilling your mission,” Raphael replied. The actions recorded in the mind were perfectly performed by the body, without the slightest compromise.

Seeing her quick and decisive return gesture, Danny was basically certain of Raphael's "legitimate status".

For them, everyone in the company is precious because their comrades will lend a helping hand in times of crisis, rather than stab them in the back.

Just like Best, even though he was very impatient, he still contacted the rear to request backup support, and then came up to check his credentials.

Raphael always knew that Best remained wary of her and the surrounding street even when checking her identification.

As she passed the entrance to the small park, she glanced to the side and saw something strange, grayish-white, that stretched along the entire wire mesh.

Although she had guessed this beforehand, she still didn't immediately understand what it meant.

Raphael only fully realized what was happening when they were very close and standing on the slope at the bridgehead.

These are all corpses.

They were piled up one after another, forming a large, open, grayish-white flat area.

At the park entrance, the yellow protective suits were particularly glaring in the sunlight. At their feet lay a dozen or so corpses dressed in various home clothes, not yet covered with lime.

"By the way, you... your superior?"

Danny suddenly realized what was happening and looked at Raphael's handsome face with surprise, but his attention was focused on the fact that the lieutenant wasn't wearing any...

What protective equipment?

“No, I don’t need to wear a filter respirator.” Raphael looked at the morgue workers inside and outside the park and said calmly, “I am naturally immune.”

“Isn’t it a vaccine?” Best looked at her unwillingly.

He desperately wanted to hear any news about a "vaccine" or a "cure".

Based on his understanding of the situation, there was simply no way to salvage the situation at this point in time.

When the 44th Infantry Brigade, tasked with the blockade, was deployed to the mudflats between Brooklyn and Long Island, it was like a rock thrown into water; it only made a splash for the first two days before disappearing completely.

"No, otherwise I wouldn't be here."

"Alright, guys, let's go," the captain said to Raphael and the others as he came out.

He glanced in the direction of the park, froze for a moment, and then turned back.

As Raphael passed the sentry post, he noticed a lieutenant wearing a single gold bar standing motionless in a corner.

His eyes were strange and vacant, his fingers held a forgotten cigarette butt, and his hand trembled slightly, as if he were having an attack.

Book 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 3 Facing Challenges Head-on

Two 7-ton M939 trucks were parked on the bridge, with wisps of white smoke rising from the kitchen trucks attached to the back.

A soldier stood nearby, stamping his feet and rubbing his hands, occasionally glancing at the kitchen cart.

"I forgot to mention, I'm Willis Chester, just call me Willis," the company commander said.

"Raphael."

Willis nodded, then turned his attention to the food cart. "What's good today?" he asked.

"I dissolved some sugar and vitamin tablets in water, this is the second time," the cooks reported. "It's not too sweet, but the sugar provides enough energy, and the vitamin A helps with cold resistance. I wanted to add something else, but they wouldn't let me."

“It was the right thing not to,” Willis said. “We’re short-handed, the city is in chaos, and supplies are intermittent. Saving resources is the best policy. Has all the water been distributed?”

“At lunchtime, each person was offered a cup, but some people didn’t drink it. They thought the taste was too weird and said, ‘Eww, this is disgusting.’”

“Make them drink it all at dinner,” Raphael suddenly said.

"Drink water first, then get your food, that's how it's done."

"Yes, sir."

The cook sadly waved the large iron ladle used for stewing soup, already anticipating how many witty compliments he would receive tonight, all starting with "F" and "S".

Willis led Raphael on a tour of the camp and outposts set up on the bridge, making them familiar to almost everyone.

This is practically a blatant statement: as long as we remain here, Lieutenant Raphael, you are free to come and go within our defense zone.

Finally, the two arrived at the tent with a red cross painted on its curtain. Willis lifted the curtain and went inside first.

The tent was small, with only four beds, a small table with a stethoscope and a blood pressure monitor, and a medicine cabinet that required a key to open.

There are only five people in the tent now, one of whom is a soldier who is bedridden with a high fever. His exposed instep has turned black and is oozing some fluid.

It wasn't blood, but some yellowish pus; it was probably frostbite.

The other was a medic, wearing a military overcoat. When he saw the curtain come in, he immediately put down the cigarette he hadn't finished smoking and stood up.

The medic reported that he was the company's medic and was responsible for assisting the medical officer.

"Where is the physician?"

The medic glanced at the guy lying stiffly at the very back and cursed inwardly.

The company commander's feigned ignorance greatly displeased the medic. He thought it best to take his anger out on the medical officer, since the officer hadn't done anything wrong.

“Medic Vitaly Julian is feeling unwell today,” the medic nodded toward the motionless man lying on the bunk, “He suddenly fell ill.”

"Is she a noble lady or something?" Willis said angrily.

“We went on a tour of Central Park in Manhattan with people from the CDC and FEMA. When we came back, I suddenly had a hysterical breakdown. I didn’t even have time to walk out before I vomited in the disinfection tunnel.”

The medic glanced at the already frozen bridge surface.

"He simply couldn't bear the sight of the disposal site in the park."

At that moment, the person lying on the bed shifted slightly. Willis walked over, grabbed the medical officer by the collar, and tugged at him.

"Get up! What's the point of lying on your back like that?"

The man sat up cross-legged.

His clothes were stained, his face was as white as the white line in the middle of the road, and there were red spots around his eyes.

"Stand up, Vitaly. Lieutenant Vitaly, you fucking stand up!" Willis yelled.

Vitaly remained unmoved, turning to stare at the company commander, whose anger was steadily building.

“I…no…can’t,” he said nervously and stammeringly. “Please…transfer me. I don’t belong here. Transfer me.”

The piles of corpses in the park at the bridgehead shattered his psychological defenses.

Those bodies prove that the first vaccination campaign, which was conducted on Manhattan residents at the beginning of the month, was a complete failure.

Vitaly is a military medical doctor specializing in trauma treatment, but he also has some knowledge of viruses.

The New York Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the Federal Bureau of Disease Control and Prevention administered the original smallpox vaccine to healthy residents. However, the increasing number of deaths indicated that the "green banknote virus" was not a simple subspecies of smallpox virus.

Those people wearing yellow protective suits with internal air filters still didn't take this serious public health emergency seriously.

Considering the information they possessed, Vitaly felt breathless.

Leaving this place was a choice made by his remaining rationality.

“Coward.” Willis glanced at Raphael standing beside him. “Medic, since your superior is so weak, you should report on the situation at the company clinic.”

"Yes."

"Have you checked the quantity of the medicine?"

"The various medications will be enough for us to get through the cold winter here. Among the two supplies delivered this week, half a ton of multivitamin tablets were especially included," the medic said. "It seems the brigade commander hopes we can stay here until next spring."