Eric Walters - The Rule of Three

Suddenly, a man jumped off the curb in front of me, waving his arms wildly. I swerved, easily avoiding him. He yelled out a stream of swear words that came in through the open window as we rolled along.

Up ahead, the intersection was partially blocked with stalled cars and people milling around the vehicles. There wasn’t really a clear path. I slowed down, but then Herb leaned over and placed a hand on my horn. It blared out a warning and people slowly moved to the side, some of them shooting resentful looks our way.

“Just keep going,” Herb ordered.

We passed right through the gap.

“It’s important not to stop,” he said. “You can’t help them. Just keep driving.”

“Where are we driving to?”

“Jamison Pools. At that little shopping center down Burnham toward the bridge.”

“But you don’t even have a pool.”

“It’s all about opportunity.”

“You’re going to get a pool?”

“Of course not. Your parents let me use yours whenever I want. You know where the pool place is, right?”

“I know where it is. I just don’t know why we’re going there.”

“To purchase chlorine.”

“Again, you don’t have a pool,” I said.

“Chlorine is a very essential chemical and one of the few things I don’t have in stock— Look, more vehicles!”

Up ahead two motorcycles were coming toward us. They were small, and one of them looked more like a twelve-year-old’s dirt bike than a street-legal machine.

“That makes sense,” Herb said. “I started my snowblower, lawn mower, and rototiller and they all worked because they don’t have computers. Do you still have your old minibikes?”

My old-school minibikes probably had smaller engines than his lawn mower. “Yeah, but one hasn’t worked since last summer.”

“It can be fixed.”

Up ahead was the little strip mall with the pool store. We pulled into the parking lot. More people were standing around their vehicles—many of them peering into their engine compartments. I pulled to a stop right in front of the pool place, with everybody watching us roll in.

“Lock the car doors behind us,” Herb said.

We got out and Herb grabbed the door of the store. It was shut tight.

“Damn!” Herb said. “We’ll have to go someplace— No, wait, there’s somebody in there!” He started pounding his fist against the glass.

A man appeared. He turned the latch and cracked open the door.

“We’re closed,” he said, and started to pull the door closed.

Herb grabbed it and kept it open. “I just need to make a quick purchase,” he said calmly.

“Sorry, but without electricity there are no credit cards and no cash registers working.”

“How about straight cash?” Herb pulled out a wad of bills that made my eyes go wide. “You don’t want to turn away business, do you?” He also offered the guy a big smile.

“What do you want?”

“Could we talk about that inside?” Herb asked. “I’m not feeling comfortable out here with this much cash in my hands.”

I glanced over my shoulder. We were being watched.

The man allowed us in. Herb locked the door behind us.

“Stay by the door,” Herb said to me quietly. “Keep an eye on your car.”

I nodded.

“So what do you need?” the man asked.

“Chlorination tablets.”

“You came out today to get those?”

“Yes. Tablets, sticks, or crystals, whatever you have.”

“I have a special on one-inch tablets right over there. How many containers do you want?” the man asked.

“How many do you have?”

“This is a pool store, my friend.”

“I want to purchase as many containers as two thousand dollars can buy.”

“Seriously,” the man said.

“Didn’t that money look serious to you?”

“But why would you need that much?”

“Do you want my money or don’t you?” Herb asked.

“Of course, but how are you going to haul all that chlorine away?”

“You’re going to help us get it into his car,” Herb said, pointing at me.

“I’d be happy to do that, but— Wait, you have a car that works?”

“Are you here to make a sale or to play twenty questions? Let’s work out the details and get loading.”

Herb and the man started to discuss numbers. I was more interested in what was going on outside the store. Lots of people seemed to be looking and pointing in our direction. It was starting to concern me.

“Grab a couple of buckets,” Herb called out.

“Yeah, sure.”

There was a big display of twenty-five-pound plastic containers stacked in a pyramid. Herb and I each grabbed one per hand. The salesman took one and then unlocked the door with his other hand.

“That’s not a very big vehicle,” he said as we stopped beside my car.

“Hopefully big enough for forty-two pails,” Herb said. “Let’s start with the trunk.”

I put down the pails, pulled out my keys, and opened it up. The trunk was big and empty.

“I’ll start loading, and you two hustle out with the rest of the buckets,” Herb ordered.

Back and forth we went, two pails at a time, putting them down and letting Herb load them up.

“What is he going to do with all this chlorine?” the pool store man asked me at one point.

“I have no idea.”

“He’s okay in the head, right?” he asked. “I don’t want anybody to accuse me of taking advantage of some poor old-timer.”

“Don’t worry about him. I have no idea why he wants it, but he’s got his reasons.”

We grabbed another load and headed out. Herb now had the trunk and backseat pretty well loaded. He’d popped some buckets open and was jamming individual plastic-wrapped packages of chlorine to fill in the spaces between the other pails.

“We have to squeeze them in wherever we can or they’re not going to fit,” he explained.

“I still don’t know why you want this much,” the man said.

“I’m planning on having the most disinfected pool in the world. How many containers to go?”

“Eight more, I think,” the salesman said.

“They should all fit in if I do this right. Adam, you help me finish up these while he gets the rest out here.”

The salesman headed back into the store as Herb opened up another pail.

“Hey there,” somebody called out behind us.

Herb and I turned around. A group of men had broken away from the crowd and were closing in on us. They were middle-aged, and three of them were wearing suits and ties—hardly threatening-looking under normal circumstances, but this wasn’t normal and there was something edgy about them.

“That car runs,” the largest man said.

“Yep, it does,” Herb said.

“Look,” one of the others said, “we all need a ride.”

The others nodded in agreement.

“Everybody needs a ride today,” Herb said.

“We have money.”

“We don’t want your money. And we can’t help you. Already got a full load. Sorry.”

“Gramps, I’m trying to be friendly about this,” the big guy said.

He took a couple of steps forward and the others followed along, fanning out slightly. Each of them had an air of desperation.

“First off, I’m not your grandpa,” Herb said. “And second, you’re not being that friendly. Please leave us alone.”

“Look, old man, there’s six of us and we need your car. One way or another we’re going to—”

Herb brushed back his jacket to reveal a pistol in a holster. They all froze in place—and so did I.

“You’re pulling a gun on us?” the big guy demanded.

“Not pulling. Showing you this weapon that I have a permit to carry and know how to use.”