Eric Walters - The Rule of Three

“Isn’t this neighborhood a big sector of your precinct?” Herb said. “Four patrols could protect hundreds of houses, a couple thousand people, the stores and their supplies, the fuel at the gas station.”

“Four officers on foot couldn’t patrol all of that,” Brett said.

“But four patrols that were mobile could,” Herb said.

“What sort of transportation do you have in mind?” my mother asked.

“There are bicycles of course. And older vehicles as well as minibikes and dirt bikes that are still working. You could even double the coverage by allowing each officer to be partnered with a civilian. Sort of like Neighborhood Watch, but on wheels.”

“That would certainly make it more doable,” my mother said. “Although, obviously, none of those civilians involved in patrols could be armed.”

I wondered how she’d feel about me carrying a baseball bat—or Herb packing heat.

“Only those legally registered to carry a firearm should be doing so,” Herb agreed.

“Yes, people like yourself, who are licensed,” my mother added.

So she already knew about his gun.

“Actually, I was thinking of borrowing your car today, Adam,” my mother said.

“Sure thing,” I said, even though the idea of somebody else—even her—using my car made me uneasy because it had always stalled out when other people tried to drive it.

“But I’ve thought better of it. Your car isn’t reliable, and you seem to be the only one who can make it go. I’ll figure out another option.”

“I’ll scout around the neighborhood if you’d like,” Herb said. “Take an inventory of working vehicles.”

“That would be appreciated. We could try taking an inventory here, and if it worked I might be able to apply the same thing to other parts of the precinct.”

Mom was being completely relaxed and straightforward with Herb. I got the feeling that she really did appreciate his help around our neighborhood, while she considered her whole precinct.

“And since I’m looking I could also be trying to find some people who could establish nighttime checkpoints at key locations in the neighborhood,” Herb said. “It would give your officers reassurance to know that their families are safe while they’re out on patrol. Of course, I’d only do that with your permission.”

My mother nodded. “I understand the reasoning for everything you’re suggesting, Herb, but at this point I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“Okay,” he said. “But if you change your mind, I can put things into operation quickly.”

“That’s good to know,” my mother said. “Thank you for thinking this through.”

I was grateful she wasn’t giving in to paranoid thought or overreaction. After all, the power hadn’t been out for even twenty-four hours. It would be all right soon enough.

My mother got up from the table. “I’m pretty sure that I won’t be back until tomorrow morning at the earliest. Adam, I know you’ll look after your brother and sister while I’m gone.”

“Do you want me to drive you to the station?” I asked.

“That would be wonderful. It is a long walk.”

“If you don’t mind I’d like to go along with you,” Herb said. “Just to keep you company.”

“I need to get some things from the station, so I should go, too,” Brett said.

“There’s enough room for the four of us,” I said. “It would be okay to leave Danny and Rachel for a while, right?”

“For a while is no problem,” my mother agreed.

“No problem,” Danny said.

“A little while,” Rachel added.

I turned the key and my car started right up. Strange, but it seemed to be working better than it usually did. It was now pretty loaded down between the extra weight of three passengers and the working minibike and two trail bikes strapped into the trunk. My mother was going to have officers use them for patrol, and then she’d ride the minibike home at the end of her shift. Slowly I backed up, easing down the driveway so I wouldn’t bottom out.

“I think your grandfather would be proud of how this old car of his is doing,” my mother said with a laugh.

“I think we should all be proud of it,” Herb said. “Sometimes things that have been retired can still do the job.”

“I get the feeling you aren’t just talking about the car,” my mom said.

“You’re right about that,” Herb said, and we all chuckled.

I was surprised how many people were already on the street this early. Folks were outside talking in pairs or small groups. Normally the only people I’d ever seen at this hour were walking their dogs. Without exception, people stopped talking and watched as we passed by.

“This must be what it’s like to drive a Ferrari or Lamborghini,” I said.

“Especially since none of those cars would be working now,” Brett said.

“Well, really old Ferraris would be working,” I noted, heading west up Folkway toward the parkway.

I rolled through the stop sign at the top of the hill and looked over at the mini-mall. It didn’t look normal at all. The parking lot was full of abandoned cars, and there were hundreds and hundreds of people milling about the stores.

“Are the stores open yet?” I asked.

“I’m not sure most of them are going to open at all,” Herb said.

“Pull in,” my mother ordered.

I cranked the wheel and we motored into the parking lot.

“Crowds this big make me nervous,” Mom said. “We’ll just stop and—”

There was a tremendous crash and the front window of the supermarket shattered into a million pieces. A roar went up from the crowd as it surged forward.

“Let us out!” my mother ordered, and I slammed on the brakes.

My mother and Brett jumped out. The two of them rushed toward the mob, which was pushing and shoving its way through the opening where the window had been. I watched Mom and Brett disappear into the store. I could almost feel the chaos from here. Things were out of control.

“Drive,” Herb ordered.

“I’m not leaving!”

“You’re not going anywhere. You just have to park and lock your car—hide it among the other vehicles—and then we can help.”

“How can we—”

“Go!”

I pressed down on the accelerator, whipped around a corner and found an empty spot, pulled in, and turned off the engine.

“Roll up the windows and lock it,” Herb said. His voice was calm again.

Quickly the windows went up and we climbed out, locking the car behind us. There was another tremendous crash, and I looked up to see that a second window had been broken, pieces of glass raining down, scattering the crowd before they rushed into the second opening.

“Stay right with me, Adam, right behind me,” Herb said. His hand was on his pistol, still in its holster. As we rushed forward there were already people moving away, carrying cases of water and soda, arms full of cereal and boxes of cookies and bags of chips. There was a strange look on their faces, eyes wide open and glazed, like they were excited and scared and happy all at once. Where was my mother? Where was Brett?

There was a loud noise. “Get down!” Herb yelled.

He ducked and I did the same, almost hiding behind him.

“Is that gunfire?” A second shot rang out, and then a third. There was no mistaking that sound now. At once the crowd reacted—some froze in place and others started running. Herb stood straight while I still cowered, trying to hide behind him. I caught sight of Brett stepping out of the store through one of the shattered windows. My mother appeared in the second—there was blood flowing down her face from a cut on her scalp.

“Everybody stop!” my mother yelled. She aimed her gun in the air and fired another shot, and the entire crowd froze.