Eric Walters - The Rule of Three

“What else?” Herb asked.

“I can also land or take off on a much shorter strip.”

“Again an advantage, but right now our best advantage is probably not being seen. Can you take us down even lower?”

“I could, but I think the best thing to do is take evasive action—and I need to be higher than the houses for that.”

“Do whatever you feel is best. You’re the captain.”

I banked us sharply to the west. I was going to make a big looping sweep and come back toward the neighborhood from the west. I had enough fuel.

I glanced over at Herb. He was looking up at the wing, and I noticed what he was doing. He had his finger in a hole in the wing, the bullet hole.

“That is a really big hole,” I said.

“It was a large bullet. I think it came from a fifty-caliber rifle.”

“That is big… bigger than anything we have.”

“I have two rifles that match that caliber.”

“Did you pick those up at the shopping mall?”

“They’re from my personal collection. I have a few interesting weapons in my basement, including some grenades.”

“Where did you get grenades?”

“I have—I had —certain connections. I just wish I had utilized those connections more. Those weapons I saw on the ground in that brief pass looked to be military grade,” Herb said.

“I didn’t see much except men and vehicles.”

“Including two armored vehicles, and lots of weapons. Obviously they have large-caliber firearms. I wonder if they have rocket launchers.”

“Like what was used to destroy the police station?” I asked.

“Exactly. I didn’t see any, but they had some heavy-duty equipment.”

“Where would they get stuff like that?”

“I guess they have their connections, too. The army has weaponry like that, and I’m sure they weren’t able to keep custody and control over all of their equipment. Or who knows? They could be members of the armed forces who’ve gone rogue.”

I hadn’t even thought of anyone from the army being against us.

“We bring this discovery to the committee, but we tell nobody else,” Herb said. “Unfortunately, I think things have suddenly gotten more interesting. And more dangerous.”

I ran my hand along the new section of the wing. It felt a little different, but it certainly was stronger and better. The place where the bullet had gone into the wing created a hole the size of a quarter. Where it had come out the top side had been a jagged opening big enough to stick my fist into. Herb had said that exit wounds were always much bigger.

It had shocked me when I’d seen it after landing. It was probably better I didn’t know the extent of the damage until we’d put down. Of course that didn’t matter now. Mr. Nicholas had put a metal patch on and it was as good as new. It wasn’t bad to have a bunch of engineers to help.

It had seemed strange not being up in the air for a couple of days. No, strange wasn’t the right word. It felt wrong. It wasn’t just that I loved flying but that I felt a greater need to be up there, watching, guarding over us, keeping an eye on the ground, to be aware of everything or anything going on around us. And now I was needed up there even more.

We now also knew that there were other communities out there that had a lot of men and more dangerous arms than we did. This was what Herb had talked about all along. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him, but now I’d seen it for myself, had the evidence fly by my head and wound my precious ultralight. If that wasn’t hostile intent I didn’t know what was.

Herb had said that they might have been frightened by our sudden appearance and just reacted, that I shouldn’t necessarily take that as being a definite indication that they were dangerous to us. He was right. When they’d first seen us, the guys at Olde Burnham had said they’d thought about shooting at me.

But while Herb said that to me to be reassuring, he had also pressed the committee to put more resources into fixing the defenses and doubling the efforts to reinforce our walls. I couldn’t help but wonder how any of our walls would do if a grenade or rocket hit them. Really, there wasn’t much to wonder. Even the high cement walls by Highway 403 would be blown to pieces. It was also significant that Herb hadn’t suggested going back to the city, either in the air or on the ground, to try to establish contact with whoever those people were.

Also, an order had to be given to all the guards to keep an eye upward and to report any sightings of the Cessna. None had been reported—at least not from the guards in our neighborhood. From the folks over in the Olde Burnham subdivision we had a few reports of the plane making a closer pass. They were situated closer to the city than us, so that wasn’t surprising.

Of course we told them about what we’d seen during our encounter, warned them to watch for the plane, and suggested that they work to improve their defenses, too.

One other thing had been constructed in our neighborhood. I was standing under a canvas hangar that had been built over the top of my driveway to house my plane. I was grateful to be able to work out of the sun, and on days when I couldn’t go up the ultralight was protected from rain and wind. The ultralight was remarkably strong—strong enough to have a hole punched through the wing and still fly—but also very delicate. A large gust of wind could flip it over and crush it, but now it was much more protected. Herb said he wanted it protected from the elements but also hidden from any other plane flying over.

Of course anyone flying over would have a lot more things to see than my little plane. Circling in the distance, a pilot wouldn’t see anything much different than any other subdivision, with houses and roadways. But, from directly above, he could see the greenhouses, cultivated fields, and the thick walls that ringed the area. It was obvious from the air that something good was happening here. Something worth stealing. Something worth killing to get.

I sensed somebody behind me and turned to see Herb, studying me and the plane.

“So how do you like your new digs?” Herb asked.

“Very nice. Thanks for having them do this.”

“We have to take care of our assets, and your plane is one of our greatest, along with its pilot. How are you both doing?”

“The wing is as good as new.”

“And you?”

“Fine, I guess, although I still can’t believe that somebody took a shot at me.”

“Sir Winston Churchill said there is nothing so exhilarating as being shot at and missed.”

“It certainly was a rush of adrenaline.”

Herb walked over to the plane. “Just out of curiosity, if I wanted to shoot you down where would I aim?”

“Well, not that I’ve thought about it much, but I guess you’d try to hit either the gas tank or the engine.”

“Or the pilot, I would imagine,” Herb added.

“Definitely the pilot. Why, are you thinking of trying to shoot me down?” I joked.

“I’m actually trying to figure out how to make it harder for somebody else to shoot you down. Can you work with Mr. Nicholas to try to build more protection, perhaps a second layer of metal to surround both the engine and the gas tank?”

“I guess we could. The only thing is that every extra pound reduces my top speed and range.”

“That might be a sacrifice worth making. See if the two of you can figure out how it could be done,” Herb said. “I would also imagine that the Cessna is the same as the ultralight—the best places to aim would be pilot, engine, and gas tank. Do you know where the gas tank is on a Cessna?”

“It’s here in the tail section. Would you try to shoot it down if it comes over us?”