Eric Walters - The Rule of Three

He looked like he was studying me, trying to figure out what I knew. I wasn’t going to leave any doubt.

“I want to know about the farm,” I said.

“I didn’t know the farm was on there,” my mother said.

“That isn’t what Adam means, is it?” Herb asked.

I shook my head. “When were you going to tell us?” I asked.

“I started to talk to you about some parts last night before we were interrupted. I would have thought it was better to leave it for now, but maybe last night helped make the case for what I’m seeing.”

“Are you two going to let me in on what you’re talking about?” my mother asked.

“Certainly. Adam, would you like to tell your mother?”

“It’s your plan, so you should tell her. Besides, maybe I don’t even understand it.”

“Adam, my guess is you understand it completely, but, as you wish, I’ll outline it. Would it be all right if I topped up my coffee first?”

I quickly got to my feet and replenished both his cup and Mom’s.

“Thank you. Let me preface what I’m going to say. Last night was unfortunate but completely and utterly inevitable,” Herb said. “It was the fault not of the checkpoints or the security details but of the nature of the job they’ve been given to do. There are simply not enough people or weapons to patrol this area effectively and keep a perimeter defense.”

“We haven’t done badly so far, and each day we’ll get a little better,” my mother said.

“Unfortunately, getting a little better doesn’t work when things are getting exponentially worse. The people who wish to exploit, invade, or violate this little pocket will become more organized, as well as more desperate. Last night was only the tip of the iceberg. We cannot stop a determined attack.”

“We stopped them last night.”

“Last night was nothing compared to what’s to come. We can’t defend this entire precinct or even this neighborhood,” Herb said. He paused a moment. “It might be necessary for us to move outside this neighborhood.”

My mother stared at him. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“At some point we might have to abandon the neighborhood and move to a place with more potential for water, food, livestock, and defense.”

“Like the Peterson farm,” I said. I turned to Herb. “Right?”

“Correct. The farm has sufficient water and land for growing food, but also could be secured more readily and completely than the neighborhood because of its relative isolation. We could defend that position and the people living there.”

“There can’t possibly be housing for everybody in the neighborhood.”

“He’s not talking about everybody,” I said. “He just wants some people.”

My mother turned to Herb. She looked shocked. “Is Adam right?”

“I went through the census of the neighborhood and found people who have the skills, abilities, or aptitudes that will be needed if we are to survive.”

“How many people are you talking about?” my mother questioned.

“About a hundred and fifty,” Herb said.

“But there are over sixteen hundred people living here right now,” she said.

“That’s part of the problem. It’s not just that the area is too big to defend but that there are too many mouths with not enough food, and too many people who don’t have the skills or health to make a contribution to the collective good.”

“You don’t really think that we should or could simply pull up stakes and leave, do you?” my mother demanded.

“Certainly not at this stage. I’m just trying to be a good chess player and figure out the potential future moves.”

“This isn’t a chess game. You can’t just sacrifice lives like they’re pawns. What would happen to the people who don’t go to the farm?” I asked.

“They will, of course, be free to continue to live either here or elsewhere if they choose,” Herb said.

“It’s not where they’ll live, but if they’ll live,” I said. “If it gets bad enough to force us to leave, then without support a lot of them would die.”

“If things go bad, then even with support a lot of them are going to die. I’m not acting to kill people but acting to have some people live.”

“You said ‘if’ things go bad,” I said. “You’re not certain?”

He shook his head. “I’m not certain of anything. There are so many directions this could go that I need to try to think through all the options.”

“Maybe we have to take it step by step,” my mother said.

“You try to plan in advance, but you have to act step by step. Right now, today, it would be impossible to put in place a plan to relocate.”

“I’m glad you understand that. I have a duty to protect these people.”

“But, Herb, you think it might come to a point where defending them isn’t possible,” I said.

Herb nodded. “We can’t change what’s going to happen in the outside world. Decisions may have to be pursued that will make it harder for some people.”

“People like the Stevensons from down the road, and Sally Briggs and her little daughter… And what about Todd and his family?” I asked.

“I know it’s hard for you to even think about leaving people behind,” Herb said.

“It’s just not fair,” I said.

“I gave up believing in that word a long time ago. This has nothing to do with fairness,” Herb said. “It has everything to do with survival.”

“What if we put up better walls and got more people to man the checkpoints?” I asked.

“The walls would help keep people out, but how would that supply food for the people inside? How long before the food up at the market will be gone? Do you know how much food it takes to keep sixteen hundred people alive?”

“I have no idea, but a lot.”

“I know exactly how much,” Herb said. “I did the calculations. And when it’s gone, the people inside will no longer work together but will start preying on one another. If it comes to that, nobody survives. We might have to leave for some of us to survive. It’s a necessary evil.”

“But it’s still evil,” I said.

“A necessary evil. Desperate and ruthless times call for desperate and ruthless actions. The secret is to leave while there still is a choice. Right now we can feed and defend the neighborhood. If this continues much longer, we won’t be able to do it.”

“And you really think it will come to that,” my mother said.

“Think, but don’t know. If it gets to the point at which we’re unable to either defend ourselves or provide food, it might be too late to leave. The farm could be overrun, destroyed, the Petersons gone or even killed.”

That sent a chill up my spine.

“I’m not saying we should be leaving right now. The time is not yet here.”

“And maybe will never get here,” I said.

“I’d like that,” Herb said.

“But you don’t believe it. You think more people are going to die.”

“I know more people are going to die. We have no control over that. All we can do is keep some of the people alive and work so that we’re members of the surviving group.”

“And you could walk away and let all those other people die?” I asked.

“I’ve done it before,” Herb said, his voice not much more than a whisper. “I just hoped that I never would have to do it again.” He got slowly to his feet. He suddenly seemed old. Placing a hand on my shoulder, he gave it a little squeeze. “I wish we hadn’t had this discussion. It’s just one of many directions that could evolve, options I can plot but not predict. I think we all hope it never will come to that.”

His voice was quiet, and quivering. “I’m sorry to have troubled you both with the ranting thoughts of an old man.”