Eric Walters - The Rule of Three

“This is much faster than driving and, I hope, much safer,” Herb said.

“That sounded like a vote of confidence! You have to learn to trust me more.”

“I trust you with my life. And you have to trust me.”

“I do. And, more important, our friends at Olde Burnham trust you.”

“It’s been a good partnership,” Herb said.

Over the last week there had been a lot of contact between us and them. Our doctors had helped take care of more than two dozen of them with things as simple as aches and sprains to as complicated as resetting a broken leg. There was even a minor surgery scheduled for next week. Our dentist had done a couple of fillings and an extraction, and the vet had seen some sick dogs. In exchange they had sent over two mechanics every day who were helping retrofit lawn mowers. I had a vision of a whole fleet of go-carts buzzing through the neighborhood.

Herb had also given them a long-range walkie-talkie from the cache of supplies taken from the police station. The systems weren’t great and there was a lot of static, but we actually could communicate between the two neighborhoods. It was good to know that we weren’t alone in this. We could actually make a call to somebody, sort of. We had friends—or as Herb liked to say, allies. I knew there was a difference, but still some of them actually were friends. There were half a dozen kids I knew from school or from being on the same baseball team. It just felt nice to be flying to something, to some people I knew, instead of feeling like I was continually traveling across hostile territory. Now, if I had to put down for emergency reasons, there was another place I could land and be helped.

“I’m glad we’ve gained their trust. Now if only I could get you to trust me around things that you might not necessarily agree with.”

“What sort of things?” I asked.

“Well, Brett for starters.”

“What makes you think I don’t trust him?” I said.

“Adam, remember who you’re talking to. We’ve had this conversation.”

It had sort of slipped my mind, but really, even if we hadn’t, there was no point in trying to lie to Herb.

“And it’s not just that you don’t trust him, you don’t like him.”

“I just don’t feel comfortable around him,” I admitted. “It’s like since this has started he’s changed.”

“Crisis doesn’t change people; it reveals them,” Herb said.

“You know, if you’re going to keep trying to sound like the Buddha you’re going to have to stop carrying two guns.”

“Even the Buddha would carry, given the circumstances,” Herb said.

“Okay, Mr. Buddha with a Gun, so what is that supposed to mean about crisis?”

“Brett is leading the patrols to protect the scavenger hunt. He’s shown himself to be brave, almost fearless, willing to take risks. That is very much who he is.”

“And he doesn’t like to follow orders or have much respect for authority and thinks he knows everything.”

“And those things sort of go together with the other characteristics. But he already was all of those things. This has allowed him simply the chance to be who he is, for you to see it.”

“But he always seemed so respectful, you know, especially to the higher-ranking officers and my mother.”

“‘Seemed’ is the right word. He never had much respect for anybody, and now he can show how he really feels.”

“So maybe that’s why I don’t trust him.”

“Trust comes from being able to predict. I can predict him, so I can trust him. Because I know how he will react, I can control him. Besides, there is a need for him. Can you think of anybody else who could lead the away teams?”

I tried to think of somebody but couldn’t.

“What he’s doing is important, essential, for the survival of the neighborhood.”

“We can survive without him,” I argued.

“He’s doing a vital job. As long as he’s directed, controlled, and supervised he is an asset. In times like this, we need people like him.”

“People like him? How about people like you?”

“And like me. I know him because I’ve been him.”

“And you were needed before for things that needed to be done?” I asked.

“They were done,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I just don’t know what he’s capable of doing,” I said. “And I don’t mean that in a good way.”

“He’s capable of doing almost anything. And I mean that in both a good and bad way.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“He’s the sort of person you’d rather aim than have aimed at you. In 400 BC the Chinese general Sun-tzu said, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’”

We got hit by a sudden burst of side wind. The plane bucked and I saw Herb stiffen up beside me and dig his fingers into the seat. He was so good at hiding his emotions that I’d forgotten he was afraid of heights.

“Sorry about that,” I said.

“Not your fault.”

“Back to what you mentioned. Are you saying Brett is an enemy?”

“Not an enemy and not a friend. I’m not sure Brett has friends.”

“He’s friendly with a couple of the guys.”

“Friendly isn’t the same as having a friend. I can be friendly to people I despise if it serves a purpose. Brett is an asset to be used to help all of us.”

“Were you used?” I blurted out before I thought better.

“I was almost used up.” He turned to me. “When we get there I want you to land right on Burnham, by the gate.”

“Roger, that. I’ll put it— Whoa! Do you see that?” I asked.

“See what?” Herb asked. There was alarm in his voice.

“There on the horizon, it’s not much more than a dot, but it looks like a plane.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“In that case follow it,” Herb said.

“Really? What about the meeting?”

“This is more important. How fast can this thing go?” Herb asked.

“Not fast enough to catch anything else except another ultralight.”

“Maybe that’s what it is. Try,” Herb said. “Open it up.”

I opened the throttle and pushed forward on the stick at the same time, nosing us into a descent to use gravity to increase our air speed. It responded quickly.

“I still don’t see anything,” Herb said.

“It’s about twenty degrees above the horizon, at ten o’clock, moving north to south.”

“You’ve got younger eyes. I can’t see anything, but as long as you can see it… What do you think it is?”

“It’s small and can’t be too complicated. I don’t think I’d be able to see it if it was an ultralight. Maybe it’s the Cessna. That’s the only thing we’ve seen in the air since this all happened.”

We passed over the top of Olde Burnham. They’d been expecting us so probably were surprised when we didn’t stop and went shooting by. We were so low that there was no question that they could see us, because we could see them clear enough—not just houses and cars but people on the streets.

They’d been following our lead, and more and more of their yards were being put into cultivation, a couple of greenhouses were being built, and in the center of the development a well was being dug—I could see the pile of freshly excavated soil. People waved as we passed, and I waved back.

I focused again on what was in front of me. Now, where was that plane? I did a quick scan of the horizon and couldn’t pick it up immediately. Then I saw it, still moving from the north toward the south. It was going to cross our path but way, way in the distance. I couldn’t even guess how far ahead—that depended on its height, its speed, and the course it had plotted.

“How far have you gone in this direction before?” Herb asked.