Northern France, City Center, Lille – 9 a.m.
The middle-aged man stood frozen by the door, his trembling hand resting on the latch. His eyes were fixed on the shadow stretching down the hallway beyond. The silence had grown heavy, like a lead blanket suffocating the group. Even Célia, who had been screaming with rage moments earlier, was now petrified, her eyes locked on the man, waiting for a sign. Rose slowly straightened up, her muscles still tense from the confrontation with Célia and the lingering echoes of that strange voice in her head. "Rose... Rose..." She shook her head, trying to dispel the hallucination.
But the buzzing in her ears wouldn't fade.
"Do you hear them?" the man by the door asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Everyone stayed silent. A few hesitant steps suddenly echoed in the hallway—heavy, dragging. Then, nothing. Only distant creaks and those eerie jaw clicks. Rose clenched her teeth. They had been holed up here for several days, and yet... these sounds felt different.
"It's like... they're waiting," Laura whispered, barely audible.
Rose glanced at her briefly, then turned back toward the door. Waiting. The word echoed in her mind. They knew the infected were thoughtless creatures, driven only by hunting instinct and survival. And yet, in recent days, they had seemed increasingly... organized, coordinated.
She couldn't stop thinking about Antoine, about his delusions and that old woman, her death-frozen smile, as if she knew something the others didn't.
"Rose..." murmured the voice in her head again.
She closed her eyes for a moment. She knew it was only an illusion, her exhaustion playing tricks on her. But the sensation was becoming more and more oppressive, like a presence hiding behind the voice.
"Rose, look at me..." the voice repeated, louder and clearer this time.
She opened her eyes abruptly. In front of her, Célia was staring at her, her features twisted with bitterness and pain.
"Look at me," Célia repeated aloud this time. "You're supposed to protect us, damn it... I can't take this anymore," she continued, her voice shaking.
The bearded man took a step forward, but a strange moan from the door froze him in place. He slowly raised a finger to his lips, signaling everyone to be silent. Rose could almost hear her own heartbeat.
A low growl rang out, followed by the sound of claws on concrete. The infected had gathered. But they weren't forcing the door. Not yet...
"Why aren't they attacking?" Laura suddenly asked, her voice tense. "What are they waiting for?"
Rose didn't answer. She didn't know. No one did. And that uncertainty was beginning to eat away at all of them. She exchanged a glance with the bearded man, who looked just as lost.
Antoine, still tied to the radiator, stirred weakly. He opened his eyes, his glassy gaze searching for something in the air.
"They... they know..." Antoine murmured weakly. Rose turned toward him, her stomach tightening.
They know... he continued, his voice now a little stronger, like a child reciting a nursery rhyme. It's not the virus... No, not a virus. It's... him.
"What are you talking about?" Rose asked, struggling to stay calm.
Antoine gave a deranged smile, his chapped lips stretched into a twisted grimace.
"The Angel... The Angel who fooled everyone. He sent them. To judge us."
Antoine gave a deranged smile, his chapped lips stretched into a twisted grimace.
"The Angel... The Angel who fooled everyone. He sent them... to judge us."
Silence fell over the group again, heavy and oppressive. The growling behind the door grew louder. Antoine began trembling violently, as if in convulsions.
"The Angel? What are you talking about?! Antoine!" Célia screamed, at the end of her rope.
Rose approached him, leaning in to get a closer look. His breathing had become erratic, his body twitching with spasms. Then, suddenly, his eyes rolled back, leaving only the whites visible. A strange, hoarse, inhuman voice came from his throat.
"They're coming..."
Antoine suddenly went limp, his muscles relaxing like a puppet with cut strings. The others were frozen. Rose straightened, shaken, but before she could react, a loud thud sounded against the door. Something—or someone—was trying to get in.
The group exchanged glances. This was no longer just infected. Something else was happening.
"We have to get out of here... now," said the bearded man, his voice low but firm.
"And go where?" Célia asked, her fear and anger flaring again.
Rose didn't answer. Her mind was racing. Her thoughts kept circling back to Antoine, to his ramblings. The Angel who sent them... to judge. Her stomach twisted. What if, in some twisted way, what he was saying had some truth? A truth hidden behind a veil of madness?
The noise at the door grew more insistent. Louder, more frantic pounding.
"Rose, make a decision!" Laura shouted, desperation in her voice.
Rose had no time left to think. She grabbed her weapon, took a deep breath, and turned to the others.
—"We stick to the plan. There's only one staircase left to reach the rest of my unit."
Rose approached a window to indicate the location. She picked up her binoculars and saw her ally still in position.
No way we're getting out through that door... she thought. She pulled off her backpack and took out a rope, quickly tying a solid knot at the end to fasten it to the radiator. She cracked the window open and tossed the rope over.
"Listen carefully: I'll go down first. The sniper will cover us from a high position. Then you run without stopping until you reach the evacuation building, got it?"
Célia interrupted Rose, pointing at Antoine, who was crouched in a corner, muttering nonsense.
—"The Angel is coming... He's coming..."
Antoine seemed to be in a full psychotic break. Laura and Célia looked at him with a mix of contempt and worry.
"I say we leave him here. Now," Célia said coldly, casting a hard look at the young soldier.
—"Wait..." The 45-year-old man stepped in, facing Laura. "That's an execution, you realize that? If we leave him here, he's as good as dead!"
The man, despite Antoine's horrific crime, still prioritized the value of human life.
—"Okay... Okay... Are you kidding me?! You really think he THOUGHT ABOUT THAT when he killed her?! Pff... Seriously... Morality doesn't exist anymore... We leave him here, that's what he deserves. He can go join his angel, I say!"
Célia, furious, let her rage explode. The creaking behind the door grew louder, and the infected seemed increasingly restless.