Eric Walters - The Rule of Three

Brett was holding his revolver in one hand. In the other he had his baton. Herb had also unholstered his weapon. It was now in his hand by his side, his other hand cradling it, partially hiding it from view.

“Those inside the store need to leave!” my mother yelled out. “If you try to leave with stolen merchandise, you will be arrested and charged with looting and rioting. Get out and go home now!”

A man came out past her, and then another, and then a woman holding a small child by the hand. This woman had brought her kid along as she went into the store to loot!

People were leaving the store, but they weren’t leaving the lot. If anything, there were more people coming, slowly walking toward the front of the store.

“This isn’t over,” Herb said to me quietly. “Come.” We threaded our way through the crowd, and I noticed that his hand was now in his pants pocket, his pistol out of sight.

“We just want food and water!” a man called out, and the crowd reacted with a roar of agreement.

“This isn’t the way to get it,” my mother replied. Blood was dripping down the side of her face.

“Then what is the way?” somebody else yelled. The crowd was now becoming louder, pressing closer again.

“We have a right to food and water!” another person in the crowd yelled, and again the crowd reacted. They were going from crowd to mob again, right before my eyes. My mother wiped her face with her hand.

Herb stepped forward until he was standing beside my mother. He whispered in her ear a moment and she nodded. Then he spoke to the crowd. “Folks, you do deserve food and water. And I know how you can get it!”

“Let’s hear it!” a voice called.

I wanted to hear it, too, but I also wanted to know about my mother. I sidled past Herb until I stood right behind her.

“Are you okay?” I whispered.

“Fine, just a little cut—nothing. A piece of glass. You know how head cuts can bleed.” She turned to the crowd. “Let’s listen to my friend here. His name is Herb.”

“You’ll all be able to purchase some water and food from this store,” Herb continued.

“What if we don’t have cash?” somebody called out. “We can’t get any from the banks, and credit cards aren’t working!”

“A credit system, an honor system will be arranged where some merchandise will be given out on the promise that you’ll pay once power is restored,” Herb announced.

“He’s not authorized to make that offer!” a man exclaimed as he stepped out of the store. “I’m the manager, and he has no right to—”

“Shut up and listen,” my mother snapped. She turned to Herb. “Go on.”

“We need you all to stay calm and orderly,” Herb said. “I know you’re good people and want to do the right thing. Here’s how it will work. There will be a line, and it will start over there, right by the sign on the street.”

As one, the crowd turned and looked in the other direction. The entire mob had become a group of obedient children. Herb was controlling the group like a magician.

“I want you all to know that you have my word that things will be distributed fairly so that everybody who is present now in this parking lot will receive supplies.”

I looked at my mother. Her quizzical expression mirrored my thoughts—how is he going to do that? But he sounded so calm, so matter-of-fact that I believed him, and judging from the reaction, so did the crowd.

“Okay, slowly now, women with children and older people move forward and then in just a minute I want the rest of you to make an orderly line over there by the sign. And remember, we’re all civilized people, and the best way to care for your family is to respect other people’s rights to care for their families.”

The crowd started reorganizing itself. A line was forming while old-timers and some women with kids moved toward us.

“He has no right to—” the manager started to say again, but my mother cut him off.

“Inside,” she ordered.

He hesitated and then did what she said, the broken glass on the floor sounding under his feet.

“Herb, can you come in, too, and explain how this is going to work?” my mother asked.

“It’s not complicated,” Herb said.

She turned to Brett. “Stay out here—watch.”

Brett stood on the sidewalk, and I followed Herb and my mother into the store. Along with the broken glass on the floor there were bags and boxes and cans and displays that had been knocked over.

“Listen, I know you’re just trying to help, but you had no right to say those things,” the manager said. He sounded anxious and scared.

“I’m Captain Daley, and I have the right in civil emergencies to do many things,” my mother said. “And he is acting as my deputy.”

Herb held out his hand to the man. “I’m Herb, and who are you?”

“Ernie Williams.”

“Ernie, I know how difficult this all is. I can only imagine how you felt when those people crashed through your window and started rampaging.”

“It was terrifying! I was afraid that somebody would have killed me if I tried to stop them.”

“Mobs can get out of control like a forest fire. You had every right to be terrified, Ernie. If you tried to stop them they could have hurt you.”

I noticed how he let the “hurt” part sink in.

“Please, don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that you stopped it, but what’s going to happen when they realize that we can’t do what you said?” Ernie asked.

“Oh, but we are going to do it,” Herb said.

“I can’t just give away food without people paying. It isn’t my store—I’m just the manager!”

“Ernie,” Herb said as he placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Nobody is asking you to give things away. You’re going to get cash where you can and enough information from people who don’t have cash so that you can get them to pay later. Isn’t that what a credit card does?”

“I guess it is sort of like an IOU.”

“You’re also only going to allow them to purchase selected items. Look around the store. With the electricity out there is a lot of food that’s going to go bad today.”

“It’s a nightmare—what a waste of inventory,” Ernie said.

“And you’re not going to allow that to happen. You’re going to turn these things that were going to be thrown out into profit for your company. You’ll make your company money, and when this is all over the customers will remember you as the guy who helped keep their families fed. You’re going to be a hero to everybody. They’ll be loyal to your store from now on.”

He put his arm around Ernie and walked him over to the opening so that he could see the line forming. “Wouldn’t you rather be their hero than their victim?”

“But how do we do it?” Ernie asked.

“How many people do you have in the store to help you?”

“Usually more than a dozen. Today only two came in. Counting myself that makes three.”

“And if you add in me and young Adam here you have five. And I recognized a few other people out in that line who can help. They can stay when I send everybody else home,” Herb said.

“You’re going to send them home?” my mother asked. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“They won’t be going empty-handed. Ernie, I want you to go to the back and get that thing from the deli that gives people a number to be served. Then you and I are going to go through that line out there and give each person a number. We’re going to ask them to come back at a specific time. It’s better to deal with people a few at a time, and by giving out numbers we get to know how many people are out there and how we have to divvy up the supplies.”