Eric Walters - The Rule of Three

Great, just great. “I guess we’re all lucky he’s along for the ride today.”

“It’s good to know we’re going to someplace that’s safer.” Lori went quiet again for a while. “Do you think I’ll have a home to go back to when this is over?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but at least this way you’ll have a family. I just wish my father was with us.”

“I am so sorry, I forgot about your father.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. My dad’s fine, I’m sure. I know he’s making his way back home.”

We crossed over the highway. Now this dividing line seemed to mark something more ominous than the boundary between the country and the suburbs. This was where it became less safe. But really, with all these men and all this firepower, would anybody try to take us on? Then again, before last night would I ever think that a truckload of armed men would try to overrun the farm?

“This isn’t quite the way I imagined it,” Lori said.

“Imagined what?”

“You and me driving someplace together.”

“And I never imagined I’d be the chaperone on your little driving date,” Todd said.

“First off, shut up, Todd, and second, this is hardly a date,” I said.

“But you have thought about us going out on a date?” Lori asked.

“I thought about it once or twice,” I admitted—once or twice a day for two years.

“Once or twice?” Todd asked. “Okay, okay, I know—shut up, Todd.”

“Then why didn’t you ever do more than just think about it?” Lori prodded.

“You always seemed to be dating somebody else.”

“Do you ever wonder how Chad is doing?” Todd asked.

I shot him a dirty look.

“Okay, this time I really will shut up. I promise,” he said.

“I was dating other people because they asked me out. Was I supposed to wait for you to work up the nerve?”

“No, it’s just that—”

I slammed on the brakes as the carriage stopped in front of me.

“What’s happening?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s probably nothing.” Or it could be something.

I put the car into park. In my rearview mirror I caught sight of somebody climbing out of the back of the truck. It was Brett, shotgun at the ready, walking forward. He hesitated for just an instant at the open window of my car.

“I’ll see what’s happening,” he said.

He was an action hero and I was sitting in my car, waiting, practically hiding.

“Slide over,” I said to Lori. “You take the wheel. I’m going to check things out, too.”

I climbed out and rushed after Brett, catching up to him as he reached Herb standing in front of the first car. Howie came up from behind. Ahead of it was the barricade I’d passed by three times earlier in the day. It was no longer unoccupied. Behind the cars I could see a few heads, and I thought I could make out rifle barrels. Suddenly I felt exposed. Maybe it would have been better to stay in the car.

“There was nobody there even when we came back to the farm with the extra people,” I said.

“Doesn’t look like there’s many of them,” Brett said.

“I don’t know how many there are ,” Herb said, “only how many I can see.”

“Look, we must have more firepower. We can take them,” Brett said.

“Not without casualties,” Herb warned. “I’ll try to negotiate a way through.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if we just went another way? That road is open,” Howie said, pointing to a side street.

“We don’t know what’s down there other than that the road is narrower and the houses closer together. It could be a trap that this barricade is directing us into. Besides, we don’t have much time before dark. We have to get back. I’ll go and talk,” Herb said.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Howie said.

“I’m not. Adam’s coming with me.”

“You’re taking the kid instead of me or Howie?” Brett asked.

I had to agree with him—why me?

“It defuses tensions if we send an old man and a kid. It’s the best chance we have. If there are problems, you turn this little circus around and make a run for it.”

“But what about you two?”

“Don’t worry about us. If something goes wrong you won’t be able to help. Howie, I want you to stay up here, but first let people know what we’re doing. Brett, you go and secure the rear of the convoy.”

“I’m not turning and running away,” Brett said.

“I’m not talking about you running. If this blockage is designed to stop us, we can be attacked and it’s going to come from the back. I need you there to take care of it. Understand?”

“Okay, sure.”

When they left us alone, Herb told me to run back and leave my gun in the car.

When I protested that this seemed like exactly the wrong time to ditch a weapon, he promised we were going to talk our way through this.

“The last thing you want to do is spook them,” Herb explained.

I ran back along the line and pulled out my pistol as I got to the car. “Here, take this,” I said as I handed it to Lori and ran back to Herb.

“Let’s go.” He put his hands up in the air and started walking forward, and I did the same thing.

We moved slowly. As we closed in I started to count. There were six men at the barricade, and at least three of them had rifles.

“You just listen and nod,” Herb said. “Agree with everything I say.”

“I wasn’t planning on starting an argument with anybody.”

“Neither am I, but if problems do develop, if there’s gunfire, drop to your belly.”

He stopped and I did the same.

“We’re unarmed!” Herb yelled. “Can we come forward to talk?”

“Take off your jackets and shirts!” a man yelled back.

That surprised me. Herb took off his jacket, dropped it to the pavement, and then started to undo the buttons of his shirt. I pulled mine off over my head. Standing beside me Herb looked old, almost frail, and I felt exposed and vulnerable. Why had Herb taken me along? Why had I agreed to come with him?

“Okay, you can come forward!” a man yelled.

We raised our hands again. I could feel the sweat streaming down my back. We stopped at the first car. Two men advanced, their rifles pointed directly at us.

“Could we put our arms down now?” Herb asked.

“We’ll tell you when you can do that,” one of them barked. He was trying to sound confident, but I could tell he was scared. Herb was right.

“Sure, of course. I’m good at following orders or I wouldn’t be here,” Herb said. “I’m Herb, by the way. This is Adam.”

The two strangers exchanged a nod. “Okay, get in here, Herb and Adam,” the nervous one ordered.

Herb moved and I stumbled after him as we were escorted behind the barricade. My feet felt like they were weighted with cement, my mouth dry from fear. I was terrified.

There were five other men standing behind the cars. Only the first two guys had real rifles. A young-looking third guy had what looked like a pellet gun. The other four were all armed with clubs or knives. Two were at the barricade watching our caravan; the others were staring at us.

“We’re here to deliver a message,” Herb said.

“We’re listening.”

“We’re willing to pay you a toll to let us by.”

“What sort of a toll?”

“We have eight cows and are willing to let you have one of them,” Herb said. “That would feed a bunch of people.”

“And eight cows would feed us eight times as long,” the nervous guy’s partner said.

“Nobody is going to give you eight cows,” Herb said. “But you know, we’re going to be coming along this way a lot in the next few weeks. If you got one cow eight times, you would end up with eight cows and nobody would have to shoot each other. What do you think?”