Hunger doesn't scream.
It doesn't warn.It doesn't negotiate.
It just removes options.
By the third morning, people stopped talking about rescue. Not because they had accepted death, but because the body had already decided priorities for them.
Arjun Malik stood near the half-built shelters and watched the system he had forced into place begin to strain.
Min-Jae Park returned first.
Her hands were dirty. Not from work—from testing soil that didn't want to cooperate.
"Ground's stubborn," she said. "Some roots might work. Not fast. Not enough."
"How long?" Arjun asked.
She thought. "Weeks before anything reliable. Months before safety."
Arjun nodded.
"No miracles," she added.
"Good," Arjun replied. "Miracles make people lazy."
Park Min-Jae approached next.
He didn't carry food. He carried numbers scratched on bark.
"We overestimate portions," he said. "People steal at night. They don't think they're stealing. They think they're surviving."
"How many days?" Arjun asked.
"If no one new joins and no one dies?" Park Min-Jae said. "Seven. Maybe eight."
"And realistically?"
Park Min-Jae didn't answer immediately.
"Four."
Arjun didn't react.
Something changed by afternoon.
Not panic.
Movement.
Groups began drifting outward again—small, desperate scouting attempts masked as "search missions." People pretending they weren't running.
That's when the runner arrived.
He collapsed near the edge of the camp, coughing, skin torn open in strips.
Omar Khalid grabbed him before anyone else could touch him.
"Stop," Omar said to the crowd. "If he's contagious, you'll thank me."
The man wheezed. His eyes were wide—not emotional. Damaged.
Arjun stepped closer.
"You ran," Arjun said.
"Yes," the man croaked.
"From where?"
"Mountains."
Arjun waited.
"No food," the man continued. "No water streams. Just rock and cold."
"How many?"
The man swallowed.
"Hundreds landed there. Maybe more."
"And now?"
The man's mouth twitched.
"At night… animals came."
No one interrupted.
"They weren't scared," he said. "They knew where we were. Smell. Sound. Weak fires."
"What kind of animals?" Arjun asked.
The man laughed once. Dry.
"Does it matter?"
"How many died?" Arjun pressed.
The man closed his eyes.
"Sixty. Maybe a hundred. I didn't count. I ran when the screaming stopped."
Silence spread.
Min-Jae Park didn't look away.
Park Min-Jae wrote something down.
Arjun spoke.
"The others?"
The runner shook his head.
"No idea. Other sides. Forests. Shoreline. I didn't see."
Arjun nodded.
"Rest," he said. "Then you work."
The man blinked. "Work?"
"You survived," Arjun replied. "That makes you useful."
ELSEWHERE — THE MOUNTAINS
They never built fires high enough.
That was the mistake.
Cold made them huddle. Hunger made them noisy. Fear made them predictable.
The first animal didn't kill.
It watched.
The second one tested.
By the third night, the pack came down.
No coordination from the humans. No defense. Just noise and running.
Animals didn't chase everyone.
They chased the slowest.
By morning, the mountain belonged to something else.
WIMO — CONTROL TEST
Arjun called a gathering.
Not a speech.
A statement.
"Food is controlled. Movement is controlled. Night fires are limited."
Someone protested. "You can't—"
Arjun looked at Omar.
Omar stepped forward.
The protest ended without discussion.
"Anyone leaving alone won't be searched for," Arjun continued. "Anyone stealing will be removed."
"Removed how?" someone asked.
Arjun looked at the runner from the mountains.
"However the land decides."
No one asked again.
This wasn't leadership.
This was filtration.
ELSEWHERE — DESERTED ISLAND
Kairo Voss stood over a line of kneeling people.
They had been captured from a wandering group. Too slow. Too hopeful.
"I need workers," Kairo said. "Not thinkers."
He pointed.
"You."
A man stood.
Kairo shot him.
"Wrong," Kairo said calmly. "You waited."
He pointed again.
"You."
The woman didn't hesitate.
She stepped forward.
"Good," Kairo said. "Fear is fast."
By nightfall, his territory expanded.
Not by maps.
By absence.
SOMEWHERE ELSE — ABOVE THE WORLD
A room existed that never slept.
Screens covered every wall.
No windows. No clocks.
Twelve people sat behind identical masks.
No names. Only numbers.
MASK 1 watched without blinking.
MASK 6 spoke.
"Day one records finalized."
MASK 12 tilted their head. "Losses?"
MASK 6 tapped the screen.
"Two thousand three hundred eighty-nine."
A pause.
"Combined," MASK 6 added.
MASK 12 leaned back.
"No ground cameras. No drones deployed. How are we tracking?"
Laughter erupted.
MASK 4. MASK 7. MASK 9. MASK 2.
MASK 6 spoke through the noise.
"You're still thinking like an old system."
MASK 7 gestured toward the ceiling.
"Look up."
The feed changed.
Birds.
Thousands of them.
Flying. Landing. Watching.
MASK 6 continued.
"Every bird is a unit. Every wingbeat is data."
MASK 12 went silent.
MASK 1 finally spoke.
"Proceed."
The laughter stopped.
Back on the island, Arjun stood alone.
Hana Sato approached.
"The mountains are dead," she said. "The forest will follow."
"And the other island?" Arjun asked.
Hana shook her head.
"I can't see that far yet."
Arjun looked at the sky.
Birds circled.
Too evenly.
"Then we assume worse," he said.
Far away, on the deserted island, Kairo smiled at the same sky.
And the birds watched both men without blinking.