From the first light of dawn, Karima was dressed and ready to face another day in hell. She had barely slept, much like her colleagues who were exhausted both physically and mentally even before the power outage, now referred to as the "great blackout" or simply the "blackout." Food was scarce (the supplies at the barracks having dwindled due to the high number of personnel), and everyone had little in their stomachs. However, the situation had somewhat improved thanks to the teams specially sent into town and around Nanterre to search for food or anything useful. Her breakfast consisted of fruits, cereal bars, and a bit of brioche.
When she was told there was some, she had almost cried tears of joy. She hugged the supply team to thank them. They had been lucky to find more things that should have probably ended up in a supermarket or big shopping center warehouse like diapers, fruit juices, sodas, noodles, but also milk and yogurt. While some of the cargo was no longer consumable, the rest was perfectly edible. All these foods were as precious as a filled water flask in a desert.
As if one good news never came alone, after all they had been through it was the least to be expected, several individuals of all ages showed up at the Rathelot barracks to apply as volunteers. The majority were men, but there were also a few women among them.
Apparently, our intervention from yesterday had its little effect.
Karima's unit went from three to eight people, which was a clear improvement. The five other volunteers to join Adjutant-Chef Ali's unit were named Lucas, Marion, Johnattan, Isaac, and Jacob. Isaac and Jacob were brothers, Isaac being the elder. As their names suggested, they were Jews and they did not appreciate seeing violence becoming commonplace in their neighborhood, especially anti-Semitism. It was already very present in some places, but it was as if all barriers had fallen during the blackout.
Johnattan was passionate about the army but did not have the physical skills to enlist. So he had given up on it to do something else. Learning that the gendarmerie was looking for volunteers to form a militia, he had jumped at the chance and tried his luck.
Marion was one of the few women to volunteer, but she wanted to show that a woman could do as much as a man for maintaining order. Moreover, she rightly claimed that women could no longer go out on the street without taking very big risks since the electricity disappeared. It was not for nothing that men were sent to search for food. Being on average physically stronger than women, they could more easily defend themselves, which did not mean they took no risks, on the contrary, as a man could be extremely violent towards another man. Since the cut-off, most deaths following an assault were men.
As for Lucas, he had nothing else to do since his university was closed and he did not want to stay locked up in his tiny apartment. At least, as he himself said, he could be useful. He especially hoped for special treatment as a militia member by having priority access to food.
The volunteers were equipped with sticks and were asked to tie a piece of blue fabric around one of their arms to be identified as volunteers. Despite the events of the previous day, they were refused the use of white weapons for self-defense. The officers explained that arming them would be the best way to escalate violence. They added that France's enemies would soon run out of ammunition, so it was not necessary to over-arm.
Karima Ali did not approve, because if the criminals were all armed with knives, soon there would be much more violent confrontations with many deaths among them.
What she feared happened the same day.
It all started with the sound of a series of very close detonations in a "sensitive" area of Nanterre. Karima, who was at the barracks at the time, was sent there with her small group of volunteers and colleagues equipped as if they were going to the front. All, whether gendarmes or volunteers, were worried because in their minds they were going to a battlefield. Unfortunately, only a handful of them had proper weapons.
They only had to follow the sound of gunfire and cries to find the culprits. On the spot, the young woman discovered a real scene of war. Youths from the Lorilleu estate, in Puteaux, a neighboring municipality although there was no physical separation with Nanterre, had come to fight with rival estates such as Pablo Picasso, also commonly known as the Nuages towers, the Fontenelles alias the Primos, the Champs aux Melles or Ferrand Léger and Besser. These four estates should be seen as one centered on the Pablo Picasso estate, which is why they called themselves "the Pab's".
Karima was unaware of the reason for this confrontation, but it was of unheard-of violence. While some had come with iron bars and baseball bats, others had come with long knives and firearms.
By the time she arrived on the scene, several of them were already on the ground. These individuals showed no mercy and were relentless in attacking their enemies until the other one stopped moving.
A gendarmerie patrol that had arrived before her had tried to restore order, but all they had managed to do was to focus the attention of both gangs on them. For these people, law enforcement officers were nothing less than a rival gang. Sheltered behind stationary vehicles, they tried to push back the attackers. Finally, they used their weapons, which shocked the delinquents.
They did not expect to be shot at by the gendarmes, who usually carefully avoided any confrontation with them. Everyone knew they were instructed not to add fuel to the fire, but their mere presence in their neighborhood was already an act of aggression. Anything was a pretext to put the estate on a war footing, even if they were not to blame.
Not so long ago, a kid from their estate had died while doing acrobatics on the stolen scooter he had "recovered" with his brother. But as he was doing wheelies in a parking lot amidst women and children going in and out for groceries, a police car had passed by, prompting the kid to flee. It was in his flight that he had died by crashing into a truck that he had seen too late.
The estate had suddenly flared up, saying it was the police's fault and that they were making it look like the kid's fault when in this terrible story it was him who had died!
Even though the inhabitants of these estates had attacked the nearest police station, which was located behind the Joliot-Curie high school, bombarding it with smoke bombs and fireworks, the gendarmerie had dared not do anything for fear of "adding fuel to the fire". Until now, therefore, law enforcement officers made good punching bags. But now these people were starting to fight back with the same violence as them! They had to be shocked.
As soon as law enforcement officers began to shoot, several delinquents began to fall screaming in pain. Unlike these individuals, the gendarmes did not aim to kill. They tried to aim for the legs as much as possible, but in the heat of the action, it was easier said than done.
Karima and her men arrived at that moment when the delinquents from both gangs began to retreat under the pressure of the gendarmes. Unfortunately, they had suffered losses. She personally knew one of them.
Yves Gourmand. He was a good person: a good colleague, a good family man, a good husband, and a good friend. Before she arrived on the scene, he had been shot in the chest in an area not protected by his bulletproof vest and had bled out in the middle of the street in the total indifference of the hundred people present busy hitting, stabbing, and shooting at each other.
Calm returned after about ten minutes, giving the gendarmes time to catch their breath and realize what had just happened.
The officers will have to announce the terrible news to his wife and children. I believe he has two daughters and a son aged eight to sixteen. Damn it! It was not an age to experience the loss of a parent!
On the other side, the gangs had lost a lot of members, at least thirty in total. The gendarmes who now controlled the area took all those who had stayed on site to be treated if possible. Unfortunately, the hospitals were no longer functioning. They had to improvise and do their best. The two gangs who had returned home were facing the same problem with those they had managed to take with them. They found themselves left to themselves to help them. But without blood bags, medical knowledge, and suitable medications, they were forced to do makeshift work with tape, cheap alcohol, and the tip of a knife heated with a lighter.
This shooting led to a drastic change in crisis management policy. Karima did not know if the decision had been made afterward or if it had served as a pretext to apply it, but the state of emergency shifted to a state of siege. Karima was sent with her unit and an improvised loudspeaker to announce the new rules in force.
"Attention, attention! This is an official message from the government. Due to the crisis we are going through, and for an indefinite period, martial law is in effect. Law enforcement is now the responsibility of the army. Looting must cease immediately! I repeat: law enforcement is now the responsibility of the army. Looting must cease immediately! A curfew is in effect from nightfall. Anyone found on the streets will be treated as a criminal and arrested to be tried before a military tribunal! In case of resistance, lethal force may be used. I repeat: lethal force may be used. Please respect these rules and order will return to your streets."
She repeated her message throughout the rest of the day, praying that it would be heard. Naturally, she did not want to use force, but the situation had become so chaotic that no hesitation could be shown anymore.
If force is the only thing now recognized, so be it. We will restore order in the country, starting with Nanterre. If everyone does their job, we have a chance to see the end of this crisis! If there are those who want to play smart, they will pay the consequences!
That's when she heard a noise she knew, but didn't think she would hear here and now.
Clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop.
A horse?!
It was not just a horse, but a man on horseback. He looked rather noble with his shiny armor and his long saber beating against his thigh. Yet he was not a republican guard.
"H-Halt! You there!"
"Oh, easy now. Good morning, madam gendarme."
"Huh? Oh, yes, good morning. What... What are you doing on this horse?!"
"Well, I'm leaving."
"You're leaving? And where are you going?"
"Honestly, I don't know yet. I'm leaving Paris, that's all I know."
"You come from Paris? What's happening there right now? And this horse? Is it yours?"
"Yes. It's mine. As for Paris, it's chaos. I believe the National Assembly has fallen, but not the Élysée."
"I... I see."
A volunteer suddenly spoke up arrogantly behind the young gendarme.
"The gendarmerie needs help and is recruiting! Become a volunteer and help us restore order! We would also need your horse."
The man on horseback stared intensely at the young volunteer who obviously had become overconfident since he had tied a piece of blue fabric around his arm. Feeling a murder urge directed at him, the volunteer took a step back. The gendarme immediately put her hand on her sidearm without drawing it from its holster. This gesture did not escape the man wrapped in a long black coat.
"And I also need it. My horse is not for sale. And even if it were, I doubt you have enough to buy it from me. If you need horses, I recommend you go directly to breeders or equestrian centers."
The young gendarme understood this man even though she disapproved of his cold and distant behavior. In a world without cars, horses were extremely valuable animals. She could never compensate for it. Already she could not pay her volunteers as much as their efforts deserved! So she decided to let him pass.
"The sun is setting, sir. The curfew will be in effect very soon. I recommend you find accommodation for the night.
"Hum, very well. Thank you. Good luck."