I live in the light, but carry my dark with me.
Nom : Chris Lang
Age : 17 ans
Livres : Apocalypse x2,
Origine : Australien
Alors que Chris n’est pas le personnage le plus important, il est l’un de ceux auquel on pense en premier. Chris est un personnage significatif, désespéré et triste mais aussi mystérieux. Dès le début, il n’est pas à la guerre. Il ne peut même pas la supporter, subissant la guerre jour après jour. Ses parents étant en voyage en Irlande, Chris ne se sent pas concerné, il reste avec les autres même si ça le conduit à de récurrentes bagarres avec Ellie sur ce qu’il devrait faire et ne pas faire.
Ellie ne le lâche jamais des yeux et ne peut s’empêcher de l’observer. Elle découvre très vite que c’est quelqu’un de tendre et de fragile mais pas aussi lâche qu’on pourrait le croire. Il n’est juste pas aussi fort que les autres. Quand elle découvre ses poèmes, Chris devient pour elle quelqu’un de nouveau, d’une grande personnalité, quelqu’un de sensible et d’attentif. Chris est bien plus intelligent qu’il paraît à fumer des cigarettes et d’autres choses indéterminées.
Malheureusement, peu importe que Chris soit entouré d’affection ou non, il est victime de son propre désespoir et d’un manque cruel de volonté de vivre.
“Chris was a lightly built boy with intense eyes and a lot of nervous habits, like coughing in the middle of every sentence. He wouldn’t be into Commem Day or woodchopping competitions; he was more into the Grateful Dead, Hieronymus Bosch, and computers. He was also known for writing poetry and using more illegal substances than you’d find in the average police laboratory. His motto was ‘If it grows, smoke it’. Ninety per cent of the school thought he was weird, ten per cent thought he was a legend, everybody thought he was a genius.” (Tomorrow, When the War Began, Chapter 11.)
Chris is not in their same position…
“Apart from Fi, the ones who were least keen were Chris and, strangely enough, Kevin. I could understand it a bit with Chris. He just lived in his own world most of the time, his parents were overseas, he didn’t have many friends. In fact I don’t think he liked people all that much. He probably could have lived in the Hermit’s hut quite happily, unlike Fi, who would have gone crazy in half a day. But I got the impression that, like Fi, Chris’d go along with whatever we decided; in his case because he didn’t have the energy or initiative to stand out against the group” (Tomorrow, When the War Began, Chapter 18.)
A matter of feelings…
“‘Life’s harder, the deeper you feel things,’ was all I could think as I put the books away. ‘Feelings, who needs them? Sometimes they’re like a gift, when you feel love or happiness. Sometimes they’re a curse.’
Seemed like for Chris they were more a Curse than a blessing.” (The Dead of the Night, Chapter 12)
“He turned and stretched out past me to get something from his jacket, which was lying on a rock. Mechanically I picked it up and handed it to him. As I did so I smelt again the stale sweet smell of alcohol on his breath. So he still did have a secret collection of grog somewhere. He pulled out a box of matches. He seemed to be ignoring me. I felt flat and dispirited.” (The Dead of the Night, Chapter 7.)
“Chris’s body was different. It should have been like the others, like the corpses of animals. He’d been there a few weeks, like they often were before anyone noticed them. Like them he had been attacked by predators: foxes, feral cats, crows, who knows? Like them the earth around him told the story of his death: he lay ten metres from the overturned ute, and the rain had not been able to rub out the marks that his hands had made as he gouged at the soil. You could see where he’d been thrown, how far he’d crawled, and you could tell he’d lain there a day or more, waiting to die. His face still stared at the sky; his empty eye sockets gazed up as if searching for the stars he could no longer see; his mouth was locked open in an animal snarl; and his back was arched in agony. I wondered if he’d tried to write anything on the ground beside him, but if he had, it was no longer readable. That would be so like Chris, sending messages that nobody else understood.” (The Dead of the Night, Chapter 17.)
Ellie feels responsible for Chris’ tragic death…
“A lot of things had killed Chris. Us leaving him alone in Hell was one of them.” (The Dead of the Night, Chapter 17.)
“I love these four people. And that’s why I feel bad about Chris. I didn’t love him enough.” (The Dead of the Night, Epilogue.)