Karima was on duty that night. This meant she would have to work extra hours to monitor the perimeter defended by the Rathelot barracks. The main danger came from Paris, so she and her comrades were positioned along the banks of the Seine, particularly near the bridges crossing it.
The hour wasn't very late, but since public lighting had ceased to function, their daily rhythms were governed by natural light. As soon as it got too dark to work, the day was considered over. Winter days were very short.
Not far from her position, the Seine flowed peacefully. Despite the sharp drop in temperatures in recent days, after a brief warm spell following Christmas, the river flowing through Paris the Putrid had not frozen, which was a huge relief for everyone here in Nanterre.
They did not want to see those despicable bandits still holed up in the former capital crossing the Seine on foot to raid them from an unexpected place. All they had to do was guard the bridges. It was an easy task most of the time, but with this terrible cold, the attacks were becoming more and more violent.
They are desperate. They are going all out now.
On the other side of the river, a fire was raging. The orange flames illuminated the sky to the point that it was possible to discern the imposing silhouettes of buildings. The thick column of smoke rose into the sky and blended into the darkness of the night.
The sky was clear, and it was quite easy to see the stars. Despite her limited knowledge of astronomy, she could recognize one or two constellations. The Moon, however, was nowhere to be found.
"Hey, what do you think they've set on fire this time?" asked a volunteer, turning his gaze away from the distant blaze.
"How should I know? It could be any building," replied another volunteer in a dry tone, sitting near a fire lit at the entrance of the Puteau bridge.
"It seems like they burn one every night..."
"So what?"
"Well, I don't know. It's weird, isn't it?"
"We don't care now. They wanted to take Paris, they got it. They can do whatever they want with it. If they enjoy burning down apartments, cars, or whatever, let them. As long as they don't come here afterward, it's fine by me."
"But why?"
The volunteer who asked too many questions sat down next to his colleague, whose face was as impassive as a statue's.
"How should I know? Maybe they're so cold they set a building on fire to keep their butts warm all night?"
The man, Nolan Petit, pulled out an old pack of cigarettes from his jacket that looked like it had been through the war, given its deplorable condition. He took out a long white cigarette before throwing the pack into the fire. It was his last one.
If he had been a heavier smoker, he would have finished it much sooner. Fortunately for him, he wasn't. One cigarette a month suited him perfectly. It had already been opened when the power outage turned his life upside down, but he hadn't changed his habit.
Under the envious gaze of his comrade, he advanced the cigarette towards the flames dancing in front of him and brought it to his lips when it was lit.
The second volunteer, Enzo, licked his lips, imagining it was him holding the cigarette and breathing in the smoke. He too was a smoker, but he had nothing left. What he had managed to loot in the early days had been stolen or traded for food. He liked smoking, but he needed to eat and drink more.
"Can I? Just one puff?"
Nolan looked at his comrade with indifference, and after a brief hesitation, he handed him his cigarette.
"One puff."
His tone was even harsher than before. Enzo trembled slightly but still accepted the cigarette with the glowing tip. Anticipation caused saliva to accumulate in his mouth, which he quickly swallowed. He closed his eyes to savor the very familiar taste of tobacco and other mixed products.
"Ah, that feels good."
Without a word, Nolan extended his hand to retrieve his property. Enzo, though saddened to be limited to one breath, returned the cigarette. Nolan simply nodded and put the cigarette back in his mouth. Soon, a large white cloud formed in front of his face.
Karima was not a smoker. She had never succumbed to the temptation, even when she saw that most of her colleagues were, mostly to reduce the stress related to their job. She was subjected to the same pressure, yet she hadn't felt more anxious than them when going on patrol.
To her, cigarettes were just a money drain. She didn't need to spend her money on that, which had allowed her to go out a few times or give some crazy gifts to her mother.
With the recent events, the incessant attacks, the lack of food, and the tensions in the city, she hadn't had time to see her mother or give her the attention she deserved. She was aware of this and at least once a day she told herself she should stop by and say hello.
"My lieutenant, would you like a puff?" asked Nolan to his officer.
"No thanks," replied Karima, making sure not to get the smoke in her face. "I don't smoke."
The man nodded and continued to smoke until there was nothing left but the filter. When there was nothing left to smoke, he threw the butt into the flames, where he had thrown the old pack. There was almost nothing left. Only the plastic elements resisted a little longer to the fierce assault of the flames.
The sentries were relieved in the middle of the night by a second group. Karima didn't linger and returned to her quarters in the barracks, plunged into a deathly silence. As soon as she removed her gear, she lay down in her small bed and fell asleep within a few minutes.
When the sun finally rose over Nanterre, it was enveloped in a freezing fog barely revealing the buildings and trees still standing.
Little by little, the barracks woke up and the soldiers began to stir. Some had to do exercises to stay in good shape and train the new recruits to make them real soldiers. Whether they were gendarmes or volunteers, all had to familiarize themselves with their new equipment. None of them were familiar with handling swords or spears. They had to learn to use them correctly from scratch.
These exercises, in which Karima naturally participated, were exhausting. They had to be attentive to the opponent's movements while ensuring they exposed themselves as little as possible and maintained a stable position allowing for quick attack and defense. Everything had to be considered, which was just as exhausting for the troops.
Because there was no weapons master to train them, they had to fight for long hours every day of the week to find positions and tactics. It was very intuitive and not very effective, but Karima had to admit that everyone was making remarkable progress.
Karima was equipped with her new weapon, a naval officer's saber that must have been two hundred years old and sharp as a razor blade, and a thick layer of clothing under her bulletproof vest. She also wore padded gloves and a helmet to protect her hands and head. Despite all these protections, she was not reassured when practicing close combat.
Her opponent was a man slightly taller than her who must have been ten years older. His name was Wang Sun. He had come with his wife to France to visit Paris on the occasion of their five-year wedding anniversary. Unfortunately for him and his wife, they were still here when the blackout struck.
In a way, they had been lucky because they had narrowly missed their flight back to Beijing. If they had arrived on time, they would have boarded and died along with all the other passengers in the crash.
Wang Sun's wife, Wang Chun, was very sad not to be able to return to her homeland. She wanted to see her family and friends again, but she was aware of the dangers a journey under such difficult conditions would pose. The two tourists knew that if they left, whether by foot or boat, they would risk dying long before leaving Europe.
They had therefore chosen to stay in France. The first thing they did was place themselves under the protection of the authorities because they were very scared seeing the locals go crazy. They were convinced things were different in their country because they loved order there. The second thing was to learn the French language. Without a digital translation interface, they had no choice but to resort to a paper dictionary, almost an antique for them who had lived surrounded by technology.
"Let's start again!"
"Yes!"
Karima and Sun resumed their positions. The one adopted by Sun was strange to the young woman because it seemed straight out of a video game or martial arts movie. He was not a warrior and had never been to a martial arts school. He was simply influenced by what he had seen in pictures and videos. The movements he made and the positions he adopted came from his culture. Karima and everyone else present on the training ground were no different. The influences varied, that was all.
A clamor from the other side of the barracks made the fighters stop. Everyone expected another attack, but a volunteer arrived running with a huge smile on her face.
"The general is back with the colonel!"
Everyone was delighted to hear this news. It was good for their morale because their new captain had limited command abilities. What the men needed was a leader.
Finally! Why did they take so long?!
The men and women present in the barracks rushed to the entrance of the complex to welcome the newcomers. The general, like the most important officers, rode horses while all the others were on foot. Not only were they on horses, but they also wore iron armor. All their equipment came from the army museum they had raided.
This significantly increased their chances of survival in combat and also boosted their prestige.
The general looks so handsome in his armor! It may not be his size, but still!
Karima had stars in her eyes seeing the old man in his shining armor. Even his mount was protected, making it even more imposing.
In the hours that followed, the general and Colonel Lejeune were informed of the situation at the barracks and in Nanterre. With the recent attacks they had suffered and the risk of more in the coming days, weeks, and months being too high, he ordered all the bridges between Nanterre and Paris to be destroyed.