Pierre lay under a tent pitched in a small garden behind an entirely ordinary house built in the same style as all the houses on that street. The couple who owned this house had graciously agreed to let him sleep in their garden and had even lent him a tent. It was very generous to the point that Pierre found it suspicious. However, his intuition told him that this family was simply like that.

The Guillot family consisted of only five members: the father, the mother, and their three children. Although he was very grateful to this couple, he couldn't help but think that they were very imprudent. If he had been faced with a similar situation, he would have flatly refused to take any risks. They didn't know each other, so it would have been normal for them to be highly suspicious of him, especially at a time when people were revealing their true nature.

From what he had seen, violence was everywhere. It was as if it had always been there. People had stopped protesting to focus on their own safety and access to food. This made them particularly unpredictable and dangerous.

Pierre was even more suspicious because he was armed to the teeth. If he wanted to, he could enter this house and kill everyone to take over the place or simply rob these poor people.

The night was quite calm in this residential neighborhood. Since the beginning of the crisis, there had been practically no incidents. For the Guillots, it was thanks to the residents themselves who did not wish to misbehave simply because everything was going haywire in the city. According to Pierre, it was more likely thanks to the patrols carried out by the gendarmerie.

The one he had encountered late in the day had made a strong impression on him, especially this young woman armed with a rifle. A change in strategy had clearly taken place, and the first effects were beginning to be felt. However, they couldn't be everywhere at once. Criminals only had to wait for them to pass by to commit their misdeeds.

As night had already fallen, a lone man took advantage of the darkness to approach the Guillot's house. He circled the house, walking on the slightly damp grass, and silently made his way to the back door. With an uncertain gesture, he applied pressure to the door to make it open.

He suspected that this family had valuable items because a nice car was parked in front of the closed garage door. Above all, he knew that the father worked in a bank. It was also his bank.

The man, dressed in black jogging pants and a hooded jacket of the same color, was desperate since all his money had been blocked. He had happened to run into his bank advisor on the third day of the blackout and had discreetly followed him home without having elaborated any plan.

He knew he had a wife and three fairly young children. If this man, Arnaud, an honest real estate agent working for a fairly reputable company, wanted to enter his banker's house now, it was not to harm him or his family. All he was interested in was what they possessed that had value as compensation for all he had lost. It wasn't much, but it was the fruit of his work and sacrifices. He didn't go on vacation, had no hobbies, hardly ever went out, so why should he end up with nothing like those parasites who didn't care about getting into debt to live a life of vain pleasures?

Arnaud was intelligent. He had understood that the world he knew was changing at a crazy pace. Everything that could prove he had forty-eight thousand euros saved had suddenly disappeared. Since everything was digitized, he couldn't prove that he owned that money or even use it to feed himself and his family. Cash had already lost all its value, as there was no more trade: he needed useful items to exchange.

He didn't see himself as a bad man, just a desperate man trying to get by like everyone else. Mr. Guillot was not responsible for his situation, he was perfectly aware of that, but he could help him, even if it meant acting like a thug.

By coming here, he had thought he would certainly find water and food. Jewelry was also a target, because in his mind, they were a sure value. By targeting a banker's house, he hoped to find some. He also hoped to find basic medicines like aspirin or paracetamol. As long as people got sick, he thought as he forced open the Guillot's door, there would always be a demand for medicine.

For the moment, it was only spring, but when autumn and winter came, there would certainly be many buyers for his precious medicines! But not everything he found would be sold. It was also to be able to treat his own children in case of need because the mere thought of seeing them suffer without being able to take them to a doctor made his heart and stomach churn.

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He barely had time to open the door when he felt a large hand grab him by the shoulder.

"What?!"

Without gentleness, the man who had slipped behind him threw him to the ground. Arnaud had no time to see anything, let alone react. Lying in the grass on his back like a flipped turtle, he felt the point of a blade on his throat.

"Don't move or you're dead."

Terrified, Arnaud raised his hands above his head to make them clearly visible. Thanks to the auroras and the moon, he could clearly distinguish a man with dark hair standing out from the darkness, a long curved saber in hand. His gaze was cold and almost devoid of emotion. His instinct commanded him to do nothing stupid and to obey each of the orders pronounced by this man who seemed to wear some kind of armor under his long black coat.

"Get up," he commanded coldly without moving the blade away from his face.

Arnaud shivered just by looking at this man who was of a similar age and stature to himself. Slowly, he got up without lowering his arms and without taking his eyes off this man.

"Come in."

The man obeyed, and Pierre made noise to wake up the owners of the house. Mr. Guillot and his wife were awakened from their sleep unlike their young children and were surprised to find the man they had accepted on their property inside their house with a stranger.

"What's going on?! What are you doing in my house?!"

"Forgive me for waking you up, but I caught this man trying to force the back door."

"Really?!"

Julien Guillot approached a candle to the man he recognized as one of his clients. No later than four days ago, he had been forced to refuse him a withdrawal at the counter because all the computer systems had stopped working. He hadn't been the only one to be turned down: he had received instructions from the first hour to refuse any withdrawal. The clients of his bank were not the only ones suffering from this situation. He himself could not retrieve the money he had carefully placed on different accounts and booklets that allowed him to get some advantages when taking out a loan.

"Why did you come into our house?"

"..."

"Answer," ordered Pierre, fixing the intruder with his merciless eyes.

"I... I wanted... to take your jewelry and anything that could serve as currency to feed my family. We... We have nothing left to eat... Everything that was in the fridge and freezer was thrown away. You're a banker, you must have things that cost a lot."

The banker and his wife looked incredulously at this pitiful-looking man. They were astonished by this declaration.

"Seriously?" the father finally asked.

Julien Guillot ran a hand over his tired face. It wasn't the first time he had heard this kind of speech, unfortunately. For many people, those who worked in banks were wealthy, spent their weekends playing golf or eating expensive meals in the most prestigious restaurants in the capital and beyond.

"What do you think? That we have access to the safe? That we can help ourselves as we please? That we can take a linguot or two home to hide under the bed? You've watched too many movies! I am, no, I was just an employee like everyone else, generously paid, certainly, but certainly not at the same level as a minister! My money is with your money, lost! I too have trouble feeding my family!"

The intruder felt so guilty and ashamed that he dared not meet Julien Guillot's gaze. He now wanted to leave this house as soon as possible and hide for eternity. He felt stupid now.

"Well, what do you want to do with him? After all, he tried to steal from you. It's your call."

"Oh, let him go," he declared, waving his hand as if shooing away a fly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. He's clearly a desperate man like so many others in the city. And I fear there will be more and more of them. I don't want his family to be left alone. Sir," he said to Arnaud, "I can't help you, but I hope you'll manage. Try to inquire at the gendarmerie station, near the prefecture. Maybe they can help you and your loved ones?"

"T-thank you!"

The man left without asking for anything else, even if it meant leaving empty-handed. In these troubled times, the situation could have turned out much worse. A man could be killed just for setting foot on another's property.

"Thank you, Mr. Marchais."

"You're welcome. Think about putting an alarm on your doors in the future. A bell, anything. That way, you won't be taken by surprise. Well, I'm going back to bed. You should do the same."

"Yes. Good night!"

Pierre Marchais returned to his tent, but had the greatest difficulty falling asleep. He thought about what had just happened, but more broadly about what would happen.

Soon, there will be no more food in Paris. From what I've seen, people are starting to flee the capital, which is becoming a war zone. Soon, there will only be criminals left. The roads will quickly be filled with refugees. They will certainly try to settle in a small town in the countryside or leave the country. But I'm not sure it's better elsewhere. After all, why would France be the only one affected? It's nothing special. Unless it's an enemy attack to invade us or prevent us from helping an ally? Even if it's not as much as before, France remains a respectable military power in Europe. Ah, I really don't know...

A drop fell on the canvas of his tent, and soon a downpour fell on the city. Relieved to be sheltered, Pierre eventually closed his eyes, lulled by the background noise.