Here's the natural, atmospheric, and emotionally accurate English translation:
"I…" He dropped to his knees. "I can't…"
"You can," the stranger said firmly.
Azalia took a step forward. Her movements were jerky, her lips parted to bare her teeth. The children began to squirm in their beds, their breathing quickening, their cries mixing with a strange hissing.
"No!" Bruno cried out, his whole body shaking.
"I can't…"
"Do it!" the man shouted.
Tears streamed down Bruno's cheeks. His heart was tearing apart, but his mind screamed that he had no choice.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered almost soundlessly, tears burning his eyes.
"I can't do it any other way…"
Bang!
"Aaah!"
Azalia cried out, her body jerking. The children screamed, but it was no longer a child's cry — it was almost animalistic, full of pain and fear.
Bruno lowered the pistol, tears blurring his vision. He saw the last traces of humanity fading from their faces, yet a spark of life still remained.
He didn't know if he was saving anyone or simply delaying the horror.
"Everything for you…" he whispered, falling to his knees.
Flash placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You did what you had to," he said calmly.
"It's not your fault."
Bruno lifted his eyes to the man.
Everything seemed to fall apart. The sound of the gunshot still rang in his ears like an endless echo.
"Who… are you?" he rasped, not recognizing his own voice.
The man didn't answer right away. His gaze was fixed not on Bruno, but on the bodies.
Azalia lay on the floor, but her body was still twitching. Her fingers clenched in spasms. A low, inhuman sound escaped her throat.
Flash exhaled sharply.
"Shit…" he muttered.
"Not enough bullets, my friend."
Bruno didn't understand.
"What…?" he whispered.
But the next moment he understood on his own.
Azalia slowly turned her head. Her eyes — now completely red — fixed on him.
"Bruno…" she hissed, and his name sounded alien, as if something inside her was repeating it.
Bruno recoiled, his heart plunging into an abyss.
"No…" he whispered.
"No, I… I…"
From the beds came a sharp sound.
The older girl sat up too abruptly, as if pulled by invisible strings. The younger one began to sob, but the sound quickly turned into a quiet, broken growl.
The man swore through his teeth and quickly drew another pistol from his belt.
"Listen to me carefully," he said fast.
"Regular bullets won't stop them. And you should have shot them in the heart, not the head."
Bruno stared at him, uncomprehending.
"Then… then why did you…" His voice broke.
The man was silent for a second.
"So you would understand," he said quietly.
"And wouldn't hesitate anymore."
At that moment Azalia leaped up like a rag doll. She lunged at the man.
The man fired.
Bang!
The bullet threw her back, but she didn't fall — she only slid across the floor and rose again, now with a quiet, predatory growl.
"Back!" the man shouted.
Bruno didn't even notice he was on his feet.
He saw only one thing — his family, or what was left of it.
"Daddy…" the younger one whispered.
For one short, devastating second, there was something real in her voice again.
Bruno froze.
"I'm here…" he breathed automatically, taking a step forward.
"Don't move!" the man barked.
The younger girl jerked forward, and the man fired again.
Bang!
Bruno screamed.
"NOOO!"
He rushed forward, but the man caught him, slamming into him with his shoulder.
"Do you want to die?!" he roared right into his face.
Bruno struggled.
"She's my daughter! You… you…!"
"She's not yours anymore!" the man cut in harshly.
Those words hit harder than any bullet.
Bruno froze. The older girl was already moving toward them. Azalia rose again.
"Look at me!" the man said sharply, grabbing Bruno by the collar.
"If you don't do this now, they'll tear you apart. And then they'll keep going."
"Do you understand?!"
Bruno looked at him through tears. The pistol was still in his hand.
"I… can't…" he whispered.
The man closed his eyes for a second, then said quietly:
"Then they will have died for nothing."
Then Bruno looked at his wife and tightened his grip on the gun.
"Forgive me…" he whispered.
He raised the pistol and took a step forward. The man stepped back, not interfering.
The first shot rang out.
Bang!
The second.
Bang!
Bruno kept firing until the magazine was empty. Then he slowly dropped to his knees beside the man in the cloak.
"I…" His voice broke.
Flash stepped closer, but didn't immediately put a hand on his shoulder. Then he said softly:
"Now you understand what we're fighting against."
"Who are you?" Bruno whispered at last, not raising his eyes.
Flash looked down at him.
"The one who kept you from dying today," he answered.
"My name is Flash… and I can teach you how to fight."
Bruno slowly lifted his head.
"Then… teach me," he said hoarsely.
Flash nodded, and for the first time something like understanding flickered in his eyes.
"I will."
•••
"So… that's how it all happened," Bruno sighed behind the others.
His voice dissolved into the cold air, as if it didn't want to stay here among them.
They had been walking for some time. The road stretched like a narrow ribbon between old houses whose dark windows watched them like empty eye sockets.
The wind wandered down the street, picking up dust and dry leaves, lazily rolling them across the asphalt. Somewhere in the distance a sign creaked.
Ethan walked ahead, slightly hunched, as if carrying a burden heavier than the weapon he clutched in his hand.