The 4th Instinct

Ch. 1-1

(Not edited.)

"Stay back, ma'am!"

The harsh voice pulled Awake from her daydream of the perfect bowl of ramen. She had the taste of rich chicken broth in her mouth and could hardly make sense of the jagged outlines of men in black tactical gear. The two edges did not meet in her mind. She finished making the chicken broth just this morning. All day she'd held onto a mental list of all the foods she could make with it. And now, just a few hundred yards from her residential building, a literal wall of bodies kept her from the perfect meal.

Men in tactical gear.

She blinked and thoughts of food vanished. Awake stepped back into a growing crowd of lookie-loos. She stepped back a second time, and got shoved aside by a bulbous man in biker's vest. The seams of the vest strained to maintain a fraction of their integrity.

The bulbous man muttered, "Factory new." From behind him another man, a man hidden by the bulbous man's bulk answered,

"Ours haven't had factory new in near twenty years. The grandma brigade does a lot of work sewing on new snaps, buckles and Velcro. Sometimes even sewing in baking trays to the vests."

Awake got nudged aside again. 

 A third man said, "Not our guys. Followed them in from the Blue Estates. Idiots inside that building were dumb enough to steal wood. Accounted for product – if you get what I mean. Military tracked the load of two-by-fours from the other side of the forest."

"Idiots is right," the second man's voice held derision. "All that wood has embedded trackers."

Bulbous man said, "Estates aren't usually that stingy."

The third answered, "Our fifty-year problem." His words carried easily to Awake in cold and cutting tones.

The influx of men in military black changed direction. Those who came out did so leading a line of people from within the apartment. People Awake knew well. She noted their names, the defeat on their faces, and one pissed one who looked as if this whole thing destroyed his planned dinner, too. She'd spent the last five years getting to know them. From parties to baby-sitting, to helping clean up spilled messes . . . They knew Awake's dun story.

But it was the shouting and screaming of her neighbor from four doors down her hall which sent a prickle of alarm down Awake's back. Mitch. 

 Mitch with his hands bound behind his back with two sets of zip-ties. As if the rail-thin man could break even one set. Mitch screaming,

"I didn't know it was stolen! I swear! I only bought a few pieces from his pile. I was going to make a book case. I swear, I didn't know he stole it!" And, "I should have known when you fuckers shut the power off. I should have run off then. You assholes! You fuckers! I didn't know he stole it, I swear!"

She shouldn't be here.  She could get arrested for being in this neighborhood.  Someone like her, who legally belonged to another region.  Getting caught would put her in a very bad place.    

Awake turned and left the scene. It required pushing through several layers of people, many those she forced a cheery, 'Morning,' to on her way through her neighborhood. She caught tidbits of conversations as she worked free,

"I hope they turn the power back on soon. Our section's been down since noon!" And, "Water is off, too. I was right in the middle of laundry." 

Her heart sank at these words.  There went her planned dinner, her slaved over pot of chicken broth.  Her neighbor's stupid purchase lost awake her necessary comfort.

 And, as she broke through the crowd, she saw a man fiddling with his old-time smart phone.

He caught her looking and showed her the screen. A red bar across the top proclaimed EMERGENCY ACCESS ONLY. He gave a worried whine and, "It's been on emergency services for half the damn day. Something important could be happening. But how would I know?"

"Since noon?"  Her heart sank.  

He looked confused for a moment. Then, "How did you know?"

She lied, "I've got to get to work. I'm late as it is."