Eric Walters - The Rule of Three

“And we’re only giving them some things, right?” Ernie asked.

“Yes, you’re going to allow them to purchase all of the things that are going to go bad if they’re not eaten. Meats that aren’t completely frozen, dairy products like milk and yogurt and butter and ice cream, frozen vegetables that are thawing out.”

“What about fruits and vegetables that will go bad?” Ernie added. “Can I sell those as well?”

“Now you’re thinking. Let’s also sell them a small quantity of bottled water if you run out of other liquids. There should be no sale of nonperishables—anything that’s canned, boxed, dried, or otherwise packaged so that it can survive without refrigeration. Can you do all of that?” Herb asked.

“I can do it!”

“Good, then you get your people and we’ll make it all happen!” Herb said.

Ernie rushed off.

Now there was orderly action inside the store and out in front. Brett was organizing the first group of shoppers into a line.

“That was amazing,” my mother said to Herb. “The way you handled everything, everybody .”

“Without you taking charge in the first place I couldn’t have done what I did.”

“It was like with those guys trying to steal my car yesterday,” I said.

My mother turned to me. She looked shocked. I’d just made a mistake.

“It was nothing,” I said. “It was more like a misunderstanding.”

“It was more than that, but your son and I handled it,” Herb said. “And together we can handle the situation here. We can keep this all under control for now, but once night hits it’s going to get worse. We really could use those officers, patrols, and checkpoints.”

She didn’t answer right away. But after a few moments it was clear she’d changed her mind about his earlier request. “I’ll have the four officers report here by six p.m. I’ll leave it with you to connect them with their civilian partners and then figure out their patrol routes.” She paused and smiled. “You already have the routes figured out, don’t you?”

Herb returned the smile. “It’s not just Boy Scouts who need to be prepared.”

“You know, Herb, those people out there, I know a lot of them—they’re my neighbors, people whose kids play soccer and baseball with my kids. I never would have guessed it could have turned so bad so quickly.”

“Bad can happen in the blink of an eye.”

“If I hadn’t seen it I wouldn’t have believed it. I’m grateful for your help here today. Perhaps we can talk later about how I might utilize your skills more.”

“I’m at your disposal. Anything you need I’m under your command,” Herb said. “Now, we better get you to the station. How’s the cut?”

She put her hand up to touch it. The blood had stopped flowing but was still dried on her face and matting her hair on one side. “I’d forgotten about it. It’s stopped bleeding.”

“You should clean up. Your officers shouldn’t see you that way,” Herb said. “I’ll work with Ernie to organize and then help with the food distribution. Does that sound like a plan?”

“I guess it’s the best plan we have,” my mother said.

The line was never long. They kept coming in small groups, sticking to the assigned times. Those who were early stood off to the side patiently, while those in line waited equally patiently.

After we returned from dropping my mom at the station, Herb and I drove to the house to get the twins and then came back and helped, giving out the items as Ernie totaled and either took money or an IOU from the customer. As the supplies on the tables outside the store dwindled, more were brought out to restock. Nobody other than us was allowed into the store. That was the way Herb had sorted it all out.

Everybody in line got the same things: a piece of meat of one kind or another, a dozen eggs, a carton of milk or a container of frozen juice, a couple of pieces of fruit, and either a half stick of butter or a container of yogurt. It was enough to keep a family fed for today and maybe part of tomorrow. It was clear that a lot of people hadn’t thought about stockpiling food in their homes before this. We were lucky—my mother had done a big shopping the day before yesterday. I’d complained about bringing in all those bags. Now I was just grateful.

The grocery store wasn’t the only thing open. The walk-in clinic was seeing patients, and the pharmacy was selling over-the-counter drugs and filling some prescriptions. Like the supermarket, they weren’t allowing customers in but were doing business from the front entranceway.

The variety store—which had sold out of batteries, flashlights, and candles yesterday—was open for business, too. Milk, ice cream, and anything else that was going to melt or spoil was being hustled outside to be sold at a table. The owner was selling, reluctantly, at the regular cost. He had tried to bump up the prices, selling water and bread and everything else he had at three times the usual price. There was a lot of complaining, but people were desperate and were paying. That’s when Herb stepped in.

Along with Brett he went over to talk to the owner. Afterward Brett told me about it. Herb had told the man, quietly, that aside from charges of profiteering that he’d personally make sure were investigated, nobody would forget what he’d done. Herb told him that they’d drive him out of business once things returned to usual—assuming he had a business. He said that nobody could be responsible if angry people broke his windows and looted his store. The prices came right back down.

The bakery sold off every single thing in the store. Unlike the guy at the variety store, they even sold bread and rolls at reduced price, as day-olds. I thought that showed class.

Maybe the strangest thing was that half the people were eating ice cream. The owner of the Baskin-Robbins, with Danny and Rachel thrilled to be helping him at the counter, was giving out small servings in paper cups. Since the blackout began, he’d been running his freezer off a gas-powered generator, but he was out of fuel and was giving up the fight. The ice cream was all going to melt, but the cones themselves weren’t going to spoil. He told Ernie that it was almost all covered by insurance anyway, so he wanted to promote goodwill with his customers.

Between the children in strollers, wagons being pulled, kids on bikes, neighbors visiting in line, and of course the ice cream being consumed, it seemed like a picnic or a school carnival out in the parking lot.

Brett, looking official and I thought a little bit nervous, walked up and down along the pavement, one hand on his gun, the baton in the other. Part of me didn’t think that was necessary. The other part remembered what had just happened. These people, my neighbors, had been rioting and looting. It was like a lightbulb being turned on and then off again. We had to keep it turned off.

Herb disappeared inside the supermarket for a while, sleeping on a couch in the staff lounge. Out of sight, but close enough to hear and act if something happened. Having organized everything, he said he needed to get some sleep and be ready for tonight. He was pretty old and had been going hard since the blackout began. After seeing him in action I couldn’t help but wonder again what kind of paper pusher he had been.

“We have to do this as quickly as possible,” Sergeant Evans said. “It’s going to be dark in less than an hour, so everybody has to be out on patrol by then.”

Assembled in our living room were four police officers, Brett, Sergeant Evans, Officer O’Malley, and Howie; the four civilian partners, including Mr. Gomez; and me and Herb. I’d volunteered to be one of the civilian partners, but they felt it should only be adults. Besides, I guess I really was on patrol taking care of the twins. My mom was at the station. While we were trying to protect this neighborhood, she was trying to safeguard the whole precinct.