"Let me in, let me in!"
"Damn it, I'm an American citizen! You have no right to do this to us!"
"I'll sue you, I'll definitely sue you in court!"
"I'm a government official, you have no right to stop me!"
Such voices constantly erupted from the crowd, some weeping and begging, some threatening loudly, and others relying on their power to force their way through. These tactics might be useful in normal times, but here and now, they would only invite disaster.
Especially for Raymond's assistant. Already tormented by various psychological pressures, he became neurotic. After hearing these voices, he immediately grabbed the guy next to him and shouted at him.
"Shut those guys up, shut them up! I don't want to hear this nonsense. Tell them to get back into the city, or I'll kill you! Do you understand!"
The guy he grabbed, having never seen such a situation, waved his hands frantically and said, "Sir, sir! We can open fire, we can disperse them immediately."
"Then open fire for me, no matter how many you shoot. As long as you can drive them away, fire however you want." The adjutant's gloomy face was contorted and terrifying; his heart was completely twisted.
"Yes, sir." The soldier, frightened by his hideous appearance, quickly responded and began to relay his orders.
Soon, the soldiers on the wall received the crazy order. They silently released the safeties, just waiting for the final command.
"This is your last chance, turn back. Otherwise, I will order you to be shot immediately." The adjutant's hoarse voice was transmitted to everyone's ears via the broadcast. The cold tone caused the survivors to erupt in an even greater uproar.
Everyone thought he was crazy, and he thought so too. So he gritted his teeth and viciously ordered.
"Open fire, open fire! Kill everyone who approaches the line. Better to die at our hands than under a nuclear bomb. Didn't you hear me? Open fire immediately!"
However, no matter how he shouted, the messenger beside him did not respond. It was as if he hadn't heard him at all.
Or perhaps, it wasn't that he hadn't heard; it was that he could no longer hear anything at all.
When Raymond's adjutant angrily turned his head, wanting to see what the hell the guy next to him was doing, all he saw was a man with an arrow through his head.
He was just about to shout when the sound of the wind filled his ears. However, an arrow had already pierced his throat before the sound even reached him. Blood choked his trachea and esophagus, blocking all sound. It also took away his consciousness. He desperately reached out to grab something, but he couldn't grasp anything. His vision went black, and this freshly minted madman was gone from the world.
In the shadows not far away, a seemingly ordinary guy, whose eyes were exceptionally sharp, quietly lowered the recurve bow in his hand and pressed the earpiece on his ear.
"Operation initiated, eliminate all targets!"
As soon as he finished speaking, soldiers equipped with excellent gear emerged from the shadows on the walls. These soldiers either slit throats, shot, or directly pushed people off the walls. Within seconds, the Umbrella soldiers on the walls were completely wiped out.
The armed helicopters circling in the sky suffered the same fate. Various attacks, seemingly coming from nowhere, directly penetrated the cockpits of the aircraft, causing them to fall from the sky one after another like balls of fire.
In just a few breaths, Umbrella's armed forces had been completely cleared. Except for a few civilian personnel, all the guys with guns had been quietly eliminated.
This situation was unexpected, even for Umbrella, let alone the survivors below. While everyone was still bewildered, a group of bizarre-looking aircraft appeared in the sky.
These planes seemed to materialize out of thin air, making no sound and giving no warning. When people looked up, they were already hovering in the air. The camouflage armor flickered with subtle arcs of electricity and mosaic-like light and shadow, making everyone feel like they had seen a ghost.
"What kind of planes are these?" That's what the ordinary people were thinking.
The elite police and U.B.C.S. were thinking:
"Optical Camouflage technology? Special Forces?"
Soon, someone would answer their thoughts. Coulson, with his receding hairline, stood in the open hatch of a plane, holding a huge microphone and speaking to everyone.
"Everyone, this is a joint rescue force from Delta Force and the CIA. You are safe now. Please stay where you are, and we will immediately set up rescue and medical camps. Medical supplies and food will be distributed. We will examine everyone to ensure everything is safe before arranging for your departure. We hope you can cooperate with our actions. I repeat, we have established..."
After being rescued, the survivors, who had experienced such a roller coaster of emotions, all obediently accepted Coulson's arrangements. Under Coulson's arrangements, the S.H.I.E.L.D. members, operating under the guise of other forces, began setting up camps with extreme efficiency.
Doctors, food, security personnel, and a large amount of medical equipment were all airlifted in. With the support of these supplies, it didn't take long for a huge survivor camp to appear under the walls. Everything was in good order, giving many people hope for survival.
But Coulson knew this was just the beginning; the real test was about to begin.
A chorus of howls came from the distance, the sounds made by the Zombies chasing after the escapees. They were in the thousands, like a surging wave. And it was a giant wave from the underworld; once contaminated, there would be no burial.
Coulson, who had received accurate information, naturally didn't dare to let the surging Zombie tide approach this newly established camp. Once the defense line was breached, almost no one could escape. So he immediately ordered:
"Barton, take the planes and combat troops to stop these monsters from coming over. You are allowed to use all heavy weapons, but absolutely do not let any monster break through your defenses!"
"Leave it to me!" The sharp-eyed man nodded, beckoned to his people, and got on the plane, flying towards the Zombie tide. They were well-prepared to deal with Umbrella. Whether it was the Zombie tide or any other monster, they could handle it without a problem. Advanced weapons and sufficient logistical support were their proud strengths.
As the world's most powerful intelligence organization, they had an innate advantage in dealing with such matters. So Coulson wasn't worried at all that Barton would fail; he was worried about other problems.
His eyes were fixed on the orderly camp, but his feet were restlessly moving back and forth. When a subordinate with a heavy responsibility appeared in front of him, he immediately asked impatiently.
"Can you handle it?"
"Sir, take a look." The agent holding the tablet placed it in front of Coulson. Through the screen, Coulson could clearly see a group of people sleeping in huge freezers. A faint mist swirled around them. The medical instruments next to them showed they were in a low-consumption, dormant state.
"We've currently contained over three hundred infected. The virus isn't active in the ultra-low temperature environment, so there's no immediate risk of transformation," the agent explained, bringing up another cell diagram.
"This is the situation inside the infected. The virus's erosion of cells and other tissues has slowed due to the low temperature, but it hasn't stopped; it's still ongoing, just at a slower rate. So, everything is temporary. We can only alleviate, not cure. We need more detailed virus data."
"How much time can you buy me?" Everyone wanted more detailed information, but Coulson couldn't get his hands on it right now. Natasha still hadn't contacted him. He had to prepare for the worst.
"Not much, sir. With our current technology, we can only hold them for a maximum of twenty-four hours. After twenty-four hours, the infected will completely transform. You'd best be prepared!"
What kind of preparation went without saying. S.H.I.E.L.D. was, after all, an intelligence agency, and there weren't many in such an organization who hadn't killed someone. For now, the last resort would undoubtedly be to eliminate the infected. S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't let these things enter human society. If they did, their current efforts would be completely wasted.
"Buy me as much time as you can," Coulson didn't explicitly state his position; he just repeated it over and over. "I'll get the data back. Until then, you must keep these people alive, understand!"
"I'll do my best, sir!"
"I need you to give it your all. That's an order!" Coulson raised his voice.
"Yes, sir!" The subordinate saluted and quickly returned to his position. Coulson wanted him to do his best to save these people, so of course he had to give it his all. Time was of the essence.
Watching his subordinate leave, Coulson finally couldn't help but murmur to himself.
"Natasha, this time we're really counting on you."
Meanwhile, in a hospital near Raccoon City Central Elementary School, Natasha was locked in a standoff with someone.
She was holding down the head of a blonde little girl with one hand, sheltering her behind her. At the same time, she cautiously peeked her body out from the corner.
Gunshots immediately rang out, and a sharp pain shot through her arm. She quickly pulled back, rubbing the spot vigorously.
Because she was wearing the Nanometal Combat Suit, the gunfire only caused her a little pain and had no other effect. However, she still didn't dare to move recklessly. The combat suit didn't protect her head, and a shot there would still be fatal. Moreover, she had a target beside her that she needed to protect.
She hadn't encountered this kind of stalemate in a long time. She looked at the time and realized that time was running out. She decided to change her approach to break through.
-----------------------
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