Eric Walters - The Rule of Three

My mother looked at me.

“We could guard it better,” I said.

“Is the truck working?” she asked.

“Dead as a doorknob, but I think I could arrange for it to be moved—of course, with your permission,” Herb said. “I’ve gotten to know the owner of the station, and he’d be relieved to have it moved. If we brought it right into the neighborhood, we could guarantee its safety.”

Brett asked the obvious question about how we were going to move a stalled eighteen-wheeler.

I knew Herb’s answer and said it myself. “People. Lots of people. We’re going to pull it.”

“No, seriously, kid,” Brett said.

“He’s right,” Herb replied. “All we have to do is get it over the crest of the road, and then it’s all downhill. Hook enough people up to enough ropes, and we can do it.”

“If you think you can do it, go for it, with my blessing,” my mother said.

Herb nodded and was quiet. I figured he was thinking about the details. But after some more chatter from the other guys, Mom turned the meeting back to a report on their night’s work.

“So how has it been having civilian partners along on patrol?” she asked.

“I think it worked out fairly well,” Howie said.

“I like it. It would have been way eerie to be out there by myself,” Brett said.

“What’s wrong, rookie, afraid of the dark?” Officer O’Malley joked, and Howie and Sergeant Evans laughed.

“I think he’s only showing wisdom,” my mom said. “You have to understand that between your weapon and your vehicle you aren’t just enforcing the law, you’re a target for those wanting those two things.”

There was a long silence.

“I know I wouldn’t want to be alone out there,” Herb said. “I was also thinking it’s probably wise to ask us civilians to keep silent about what we see.”

“Good point,” my mother said.

“It’s like being in a ghost town except with people, if that makes any sense,” Sergeant Evans said.

“Yes, perfect sense,” Herb said. “No lights, no noise, but you know that people are behind the windows looking at you.”

“We did have eyes on us everywhere,” the sergeant added. “The noise of our vehicles draws people out or at least makes them pull back the curtains to look at us.”

“Did you notice any other vehicles on the road?” Mom asked.

“I pulled over a big old dump truck,” Brett said. “When he stopped I noticed the back was filled with people. He was charging them a small fortune to drive them back out here from the city.”

“It’s nice to know that free enterprise isn’t dead,” my mother said. “Any other vehicles?”

“A few older motorcycles.”

“And a couple of antique cars,” Officer O’Malley added. “And of course there were lots and lots of bikes.”

“How are the checkpoints working out?” Herb asked.

“I think they’ve really helped to keep things safe and controlled,” Howie said.

“That’s good to know,” my mother said. “Any reports of looting or personal assaults?”

“We weren’t really stopping to take reports,” Brett said, “but there are three stores in the little plaza on the southeast corner of College Way and Maple that had their front windows smashed two nights ago. I talked to a couple of other owners, and they said they’ve been sleeping in their stores to protect them.”

“That’s all to be expected,” Herb said. “As supplies of food and water dwindle, there will be more looting in the days to come.”

“Jeez,” Brett said. “I don’t like to hear talk about days to come.”

“Unfortunately, we have to be aware of that possibility,” my mother said, “although that fact is best kept from the general population. Some things have to remain unreported.”

“Are things being kept from us?” Sergeant Evans asked.

“Yeah, Cap, are we completely in the loop?” Howie asked.

“If I know, you know it,” my mother said. “And I’m only working on guesses, not facts.”

“She’s right,” Herb said. “We need to prepare for the worst and pray for the best.”

“Okay. I’m going to turn things over to Herb for a minute. I have a feeling he has some other ideas about how we should be preparing.” Going on five days of this mess, Mom seemed more open to Herb’s input than ever.

Herb shifted in his seat. “Well, I was wondering about a few things, but only of course with your approval.”

“Fire away, Herb,” she said. “We’re just talking now.”

The first thing Herb suggested was setting up other checkpoints to provide additional security for the neighborhood.

“How many more?” Brett asked.

“Three.” Herb got up and walked over to the map still taped to the kitchen cupboard. “Here, in the field behind the school, here where the walking path meets Erin Mills Parkway, and the third over in the electrical-tower field, where the creek passes under Highway 403.”

My mom smiled. “I knew you’d given this a lot of thought,” she said.

“I have,” Herb said. “Which brings me to my second suggestion. Ideally, these civilian checkpoints would be manned either by people with some background in the military or by first responders.”

“That would be ideal,” my mother agreed.

“But the difficulty is that, just like we didn’t know there was a fire chief in the neighborhood, we don’t know who we have who fits into those categories and others. For example, we should be identifying doctors and nurses. What happens if somebody gets sick or injured? We can’t be searching for somebody then, or lives might be lost.”

“I know of a doctor who lives on Talbot Court,” Sergeant Evans said.

“And my neighbor is a delivery room nurse,” Howie added.

“Those are exactly the people we need to know about,” Herb said. “But we need to know what everybody does who lives here. We can’t afford not to know the resources we have at hand.”

“Are you suggesting a census of the neighborhood?” my mother asked.

“Yes. There are four hundred homes in this little quadrant. We need to know who all of them are and what skills they possess.”

“That would take a lot of time and a lot of manpower.”

“We have people and we have time. It’s better to give people a job to do than to leave them feeling helpless.”

“My wife could help do that,” Officer O’Malley said. “She’s an accountant and just about the best-organized person I know.”

“She’d have to be organized to keep you in line,” Howie joked.

“You said it. If she had ten people to help her, she could get it done quickly.”

“I’m sure she could,” Herb said. “Especially if we can have people come to one location where they report to us. This morning we spread the word, and this afternoon we do the actual survey. To draw them in, we say that if they register, they can bring buckets and receive fresh drinking water,” Herb suggested.

“And where will we get that?” my mother asked.

“With your permission, you’re looking at it.” He gestured out the window to our pool. “It’s clean and still has enough chlorination remaining to be fit for drinking. Would you agree to part with some of your water, Captain?”

“I think that would be the least I could do.”

“It would be reassuring to people to see something was being done. Sometimes movement is as good as progress. People will be reassured that we’re doing something .”

“Okay, it’s agreed, then,” my mother said. “Let’s divvy up these tasks. And then I think those of us who need it can get a little sleep before we get down to business.”

Rachel and Danny had been put to bed early. We’d spent the day together, first playing some board games, then tossing a Frisbee, and finally I organized a baseball game on the diamond up behind the school. It was a good time—lots of our friends played—and for a while I almost forgot what was going on. It was relaxing to have it go away for a while. Maybe we could play again tomorrow.