Eric Walters - The Rule of Three

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Pizza would be good,” Herb said. “It would also mean more people having the mobility to attack the neighborhood.”

I hadn’t thought of that. There was so much that I hadn’t thought about.

“I heard that there were fifty people in the group who attacked the neighborhood when Mr. Smith was killed,” Todd said.

“There were fewer than fifty men, son, a lot fewer,” Herb said. “Stop here, okay? Do you see those cars up ahead?”

“I see lots of abandoned cars.” Some of them had been tipped onto their sides.

“Those aren’t just abandoned. They’ve been rearranged to block the road.”

“Like a checkpoint?”

“Like a checkpoint.” Herb told us to sit tight and wait until he gave the signal. “If I wave you off, then you drive home fast.”

Before I could say anything Herb got out of the car and started walking toward the blockade.

“Should I go with him?” Todd asked.

“I think it’s safer if you stay here.”

“But he could need my help.”

“I meant it’s safer for Herb if you stay here. He has his shotgun.”

“You really know how to build up a guy’s confidence.”

Herb moved toward the picket line of abandoned cars. He had the shotgun in front of him, leading the way, swinging it slightly from side to side as he walked.

“Do you see anybody?” Todd asked.

“Nothing.”

Herb disappeared behind the first car, and I held my breath. What would we do if he didn’t reappear? Would we drive off or would I go and—

At that moment he popped out and waved us forward. There was a lane between the cars, and I eased through it. Herb motioned for me to stop and then climbed in. Quickly I pulled away.

“I guess it’s only used at night,” Herb said.

“Who set it up?” Todd asked.

“Probably the people in these subdivisions, just doing the same thing we’re doing for protection.”

“But we always have people at our checkpoints. Day and night.”

Herb guessed the group that arranged the cars didn’t have enough people or weapons to man the blockade all the time. I didn’t care. I was grateful to be by it.

Quickly we came up to the highway, marking the edge of our suburbs and the start of the country. The open fields felt better, as if I could draw a fresh breath. What would it be like if we did move out here? Would the open fields and distance give us that little extra protection that Herb thought it would? Maybe it would be better to do what Herb had suggested.

After a few miles, we reached the driveway of the farm. I slowed down, made the turn, and slammed on the brakes. There was a man lying on his stomach across the track.

“Get down!” Herb said to us. He opened the door and jumped out, dropping into the woods beside the lane.

After a minute or two, he called out for Todd.

Todd climbed out the door and scampered over.

“Adam, keep us covered,” Herb called after a moment.

Before I could even think to say anything, Herb got up, leading with his shotgun. Todd jumped to his feet and followed behind, keeping low to the ground as he moved, the gravel sounding under his feet. Moving quietly wasn’t one of his strengths. I aimed my gun through the window. What was I supposed to be aiming for?

Herb walked over to the man lying facedown in the dirt, aiming his shotgun at the motionless body and then fanning it around to the bushes on both sides.

“Let’s take a look at him,” Herb said to Todd as he aimed his weapon back at the body.

Todd didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the man by the shoulder and flipped him.

The face was half gone! There was blood and mangled flesh, and the ground underneath him was stained dark. It was obvious that he was dead.

“Now we have to roll him into the ditch so the road’s clear,” Herb ordered.

I saw a slight panic in Todd’s reaction, but that didn’t stop him from acting. He flipped the body again and again, and the corpse, limbs flailing, rolled off the lane and into the ditch with a thud.

Herb praised Todd and then told him to return to the car.

Todd ran back and jumped in, his eyes glazed with fear. Herb motioned for me to drive, and I inched along the lane behind him as he walked forward. His shotgun was at the ready again. He held it chest high, swinging it from side to side as he walked.

“There’s another one!” Todd hissed.

The second body was lying in the ditch beside the road. There was a gaping hole in his side, and I could see flies buzzing around. I almost retched.

Is that what a shotgun would do to somebody?

Up ahead, angled across the lane and blocking the way, was an old flatbed truck with wooden boarding on the back. Both doors of the cab were open, the tailgate down. There was a third body on the ground, next to the passenger-side door.

“There’s a gun!” Todd screamed. Herb dropped to one knee. I struggled looking for where it was and then I saw it, the barrel poking over the hood of the truck.

The barrel disappeared and Howie stepped forward carrying the weapon. Herb walked up to him, and Howie wrapped him up in a big hug. I pulled my car as far forward as I could, and then Todd and I climbed out and joined them.

“There were dozens of them!” Howie said. “They fired at us first, so there was no choice! They fled and left the truck behind.”

“Is everybody all right?” I asked anxiously.

“Yes, yes, we’re all okay,” Howie said.

“Where is everybody else right now?”

“The Petersons are in the house, and Brett is covering the back, making sure the fire stays out.”

“Fire?” Herb asked.

“The shed behind the barn was set on fire as a diversion,” Howie said. “The fire spread to the barn, and we were lucky to put it out. You wouldn’t believe what the rookie did.”

“He had problems?” Herb suggested.

“No,” Howie said, shaking his head. “He was the solution to the problems. He took charge. I don’t know if any of us would be here if it wasn’t for him.”

“You never know how people are going to react under fire until they’re there,” Herb said. “I’ve seen some people who I thought would lead who just fell apart.”

“I did my best,” Howie said. “But I was afraid, almost paralyzed at first.”

“You would have had to be an idiot not to be afraid. Do you know what people are most afraid of in those situations?” Herb asked. “It’s not that they might be killed but that they might have to kill somebody.”

“I don’t think I did shoot anybody.”

“But we saw at least three bodies,” I said—instantly regretting my words.

“Brett. I think he shot them all.”

“I’ll talk to him and make sure he’s all right,” Herb said.

“You won’t have to wait long,” Howie said. “There he is.”

Brett came around the corner of the farmhouse—a shotgun broken over his arm. He gave us a little wave and a big smile and walked toward us.

Herb offered him a handshake. “Howie was telling me that you did well last night.”

“Just doing my job.”

“It’s never easy having to take a life.”

“Better to take than have yours taken.”

“Either way, thanks,” Herb said. “Now I need you to go up and guard the entrance.”

He saluted Herb and then headed for the truck.

“He seems to be doing okay,” I said.

“People react to shock in different ways.”

We went into the house and the Petersons rushed toward us. Lori, on the verge of tears, threw her arms around me, and then everybody started talking.

“Everybody, please!” Herb called out. “How about if we just sit down and let’s take things slowly.”