Eric Walters - The Rule of Three

“I have to apologize for the motley collection of vehicles you’re going to be using for your patrols,” Herb said. On our driveway were three minibikes, a go-cart, two little gas-powered scooters, and two dirt bikes.

“It’s a lot better than what we’ve been using,” Sergeant Evans said.

“Might be fun to ride a go-cart,” Brett added.

“Hey, rook, what makes you think you’re getting the go-cart?” Officer O’Malley asked. “I was thinking that little pink scooter was for you.”

The others laughed.

“Especially if we can slap on a couple of training wheels,” O’Malley added.

“This rookie could ride with me anytime, O’Malley,” Herb said. “The kid has handled himself like a veteran last night and today.”

That stopped the laughing and Brett looked relieved, maybe even a little proud. Herb was being nice to Brett, but I got the feeling it was more than that. It was sort of like a coach talking up a kid who necessarily didn’t hit so well so that the next time up at bat he’d have more confidence.

“There are two checkpoints manned by civilians,” Sergeant Evans said. He pointed to a map of the area taped to our kitchen cupboard. “The checkpoints are here and at the top of the neighborhood, right by the intersection with Erin Mills Parkway, where they can watch both the stores in the mini-mall and the gas station.”

“Both checkpoints have eight people,” Herb said.

“Although they have bats or clubs, they were told not to engage anybody in a fight,” Sergeant Evans explained. “They are to question anybody trying to enter the neighborhood, stop them if they have questions, and if necessary try to detain them until one of the patrols arrives.”

“I’m a bit worried about somebody trying to loot at the mall,” Herb said. “We need that carefully watched and patrolled.”

Arrangements had been made to nail sheets of plywood over the broken plate-glass windows of the supermarket, and Ernie and another employee were staying overnight as watchmen.

“But that pharmacy is also a target, as is that gigantic gas tanker sitting in the station across the street,” Herb said.

“He’s right,” Sergeant Evans said. “Howie, I want you and your partner to make sure you buzz through that checkpoint at least every fifteen minutes.”

“Sure, Sarge, will do.”

I knew Howie. He and his family lived in the neighborhood. He was big—almost gigantic—but he was a friendly giant who liked to joke around.

“Remember, those checkpoints can’t possibly stop anybody coming in off Mullet Creek or through the woods, or even through the back of the school yard,” Sergeant Evans explained.

“That’s why one of the patrols needs to make regular passes through the field underneath the high-voltage electrical towers that buffers the houses from the highway,” Herb added.

“My patrol will handle that,” O’Malley said. “That field backs onto my house, so I know it pretty well. That’s where I run my dogs and play catch with my kids.”

“Excellent, but just remember we have fifteen hundred houses in this sector because we’re going to patrol over to the other side of Erin Mills Parkway right to Winston Churchill and south all the way to Dundas,” Sergeant Evans explained.

“Are there any civilian checkpoints in any of those other places?” Brett asked.

“Nothing,” Sergeant Evans said. “We have to patrol those neighborhoods, but I want you all to remember where you live, where your families are.”

Everybody silently nodded in agreement.

“I also want you to remember that I don’t want any dead heroes. The only backup you have is the man beside you. If you can’t control or contain a situation, you get away. Come back, get another patrol, but don’t—I repeat, don’t—attempt it alone. As for the civilians, you do what you’re told, you just follow orders.”

“You can count on it,” Mr. Gomez said, and the others agreed.

“Now let’s get going, and let’s be safe out there.”

Everybody got up and walked out of the room. Herb didn’t move—he seemed to be lost in thought—so I stayed put as well. Finally he startled, almost as if he had just noticed they had left, and got up. I trailed after him out the door and onto the driveway.

The four patrols were mounting up. It was almost comical watching the eight men—four in uniform—climb onto or into the little vehicles. The engines started one by one, and the noise was overwhelmingly loud. None of this seemed real. Instead it was like a bad skit on SNL or that part of a parade where the Shriners drive those little cars among the floats. But in reality these were the men protecting our entire neighborhood and the neighborhoods beside and below it. All those houses and thousands of people were depending on four cops and four volunteers riding on things that could have been borrowed from a track at an amusement park.

In pairs they slowly started off. People were all out on the streets, some drawn by the noise, and as the group passed they started clapping and cheering. It was like a parade.

They reached the corner of Folkway Drive, and one pair headed up the hill toward the mini-mall. The two dirt bikes went off-roading straight north toward the field that held the high-voltage electrical towers alongside the interstate. And two other pairs went down the hill to the east end of Sawmill Valley Road, which looped around the opposite side of our subdivision. The exhaust fumes lingered in the air as the noise dropped off. In the absence of other sounds the high-pitched whine of the dirt bikes could be heard long after they’d disappeared, until finally that faded to nothing as well.

“We’re in a lot better shape than we were last night,” I said to Herb.

“We have to be better each night to stay even.”

“Because you think each night is going to get worse, right?”

“Either things get fixed or they get worse.”

He didn’t need to say anything else. I knew what he was thinking, even if I wasn’t ready to believe he was right.

The next morning I walked outside to check the weather. It was overcast and warm. I was glad we weren’t having a cold spring this year, so heating wasn’t an issue. Two little minibikes sat in the driveway. Brett was upstairs sleeping in our guest room. He’d told me before he turned in that none of the patrols ran into anything too bad. Maybe what had happened at the mini-mall was a one-time thing, I decided.

Almost on cue, Herb came out of his house.

“Good morning,” he called out. “What would you think about a little drive?”

“Do you need more supplies for your pool?” I asked.

He laughed. “I might have a lot more chlorine than I need right now.”

“So where are we driving to?”

“Just around. I need to see what’s going on out there. Do you have anyplace in particular you’d like to go?” he asked.

“Well, I’d like to check on a friend.”

“We could go out to her farm,” Herb said.

I gave him a questioning look. How did he know what I was thinking about?

“I’m just not sure if I should go that far and leave the kids here.”

“We could take them along,” Herb said. “Rachel told me you promised to bring her horseback riding out there.”

“I did, but I’m not sure what my mother would say.”

“She asked you, and me, to watch them, so we’ll watch them. She didn’t say anything about watching them here.”

“But is it safe?” I asked.

“It’s safe. We could even bring along somebody else.”

“I’m sure Todd would come,” I said. “He’s probably already getting restless.”

“I was thinking Brett,” Herb said. “Although we could bring them both.”