Lieutenant Léo Marchand let out a coarse laugh, amused by the words of the sixteen-year-old boy. But that idyllic laugh, that smile twisted by his inner rage, died immediately.
Léo Marchand took the keys to the pitiful cell. Lorane instinctively stepped back in fear of Léo, while Lyris positioned himself in front of her to protect her.
Léo Marchand struck Lyris violently with an uppercut, sending him crashing to the ground more than two meters away from Lorane.
—Where's your big mouth now? You had balls, and now they've been cut off, is that it?
The lieutenant brutalized defenseless Lyris, kicking him with cold brutality. Lyris's face, bruised and bloodied, could express nothing but pain. He spat blood onto the dirty, poorly kept floor.
Driven by love, Lorane stood up and shoved Léo Marchand backward. He staggered several steps, still wearing that same smile. His cold, professional officer's demeanor had curiously vanished, replaced by his lowest instincts.
—YOU HAVE LESS COURAGE THAN HIM, AND YOU ATTACK SOMEONE WEAKER THAN YOU!
Léo Marchand slapped Lorane, knocking her down beside Lyris.
—Hey, shut your mouth...
said Lieutenant Léo Marchand. A soldier on guard approached, alarmed by the cries of the two teenagers. The scene darkened his expression, but he closed his eyes before his superior, fear clearly written there.
—My lieutenant... We should hurry with the execution of the sentence,
said the Corporal. Though entertained by the scene, Lieutenant Léo Marchand was mindful of his duties.
The lieutenant grabbed Lyris by the hair — the boy barely able to speak — and did the same with Lorane, who screamed at the top of her lungs.
—LYRIS!!!
Lorane cried, staring straight into Lyris's eyes. Lyris's ribs were badly injured, his jaw bloody, coughing blood. His vision darkened, and Lorane's voice seemed so far away.
Town Hall of Lyon, April 17, 2030 — 1:50 AM
Lyris drifted in and out of consciousness. The first time he awoke, he saw the enraged Lyonnais people, their faces scarred and vengeful from the apocalypse.
—DEATH!!!
shouted a man in the crowd.
—KILL HIM!!!
a woman in her forties screamed.
—MURDERERS!
a 22-year-old man yelled.
Once again, Lyris was hated by these same people. Familiar faces? he thought for a brief moment.
—FOR THREATENING OUR COMMUNITY AND DELIBERATELY ALLOWING INFECTED INTO OUR CITY, THE FRENCH STATE DECLARES THE INDIVIDUAL GUILTY: LYRIS KALOPSIS IS SENTENCED TO CAPITAL PUNISHMENT!!!
Lyris's vision suddenly went black. Consciousness resurfaced when Léo Marchand, leaning over him, poured a bucket of water on the 16-year-old. Lorane, gagged, could only let out muffled cries of panic.
—Lorane... I won't abandon you... I'll always be here!
Despite the pain, despite the urge to slip back into unconsciousness, Lyris stood up out of love and sheer determination. He braced himself and charged at Léo Marchand, aiming for his face.
But Léo Marchand, a seasoned soldier, dodged the attack effortlessly. He countered with a punch that sent Lyris violently crashing to the floor.
—Lorane... is there...
Lyris stood again, a dark, wounded aura around him, fists raised. Ready to face the impossible, clutching a sharp shard of roofing in his right hand.
—Léo, I'm going to kill you!!!
he thought inwardly, unleashing a wild, warlike scream — a symbol of his despair and constant struggle.
—BOOM!
A sniper shot rang out. Lyris's arm was instantly torn off by the bullet.
—AAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!
he screamed in agony, stumbling backward. His body could no longer endure it; he felt himself slowly slipping toward the inevitable. At the edge of the roof, the white-eyed hungry ones awaited to devour him alive.
Satisfied at last, Léo approached Lyris, HK416F rifle in hand, pressing the barrel against the young boy's chest.
—I love you...
he whispered faintly to Lorane, who was devastated, broken, and grief-stricken by the scene. Lyris read it in her eyes; with a slight smile, he seemed to say his goodbyes.
—Fuck... I hate that smile...
Lieutenant Léo Marchand pulled Lorane closer. He violently tore off her clothes in front of Lyris, broken both physically and psychologically. This only deepened Lyris's sorrow, as well as Lorane's, who could only endure the infernal ordeal.
—Please... someone... anyone...
Lorane tried to cry out desperately, staring at the dark, grim sky. A shot rang out. Lyris collapsed, falling directly into the horde of infected that swarmed over him.
As he fell, Lyris heard Lorane's distant screams. Helpless, exhausted, an immense, horrible pain tore through him. He felt his bones and flesh being slowly devoured. He couldn't breathe anymore — it was too much, too painful — his life, this situation, this end...
—I refuse...
He saw his entrails exposed and ripped apart by the hungry ones, the voice of rebellion echoing in his mind as he lost consciousness from the pain.
—..?
A flash of light blinded him. His eyes opened to a blurry world, and he had the strange sensation of being carried by a woman. The infected seemed to kneel before her... or before him?
Looking up, he glimpsed a woman in a red cape, illuminated by the southern summer sun.
—"The master is alive..."