The Rule of Three (13 page)

*   *   *

That night I was restless. After spending the whole rest of the day with the twins, trying to amuse them with endless board games, I had felt stuck inside. I lit a candle and read for a bit, but the whole time I worried that I was wasting the candle on a story that wasn’t very good, so I finally just lay in bed in the dark, listening to the complete quiet, wondering what was happening out there.

16

Shortly after dawn, I heard motorbikes and a go-cart drive up and park in our driveway. The police officers were back from their patrols and meeting again in our kitchen.

I came downstairs and sat quietly in the living room, pretending to read a magazine. As my mother, Herb, and the four officers talked, I was trying to listen in on the conversation, hoping to find out what had happened during the night. So far there was nothing except small talk. I figured that soon I could just sort of saunter in, take a seat, and hope my mother didn’t evict me. Until they got under way, though, it was probably safer to stay out here and hope they didn’t realize I was within earshot.

Herb appeared at the doorway. “You want a coffee?”

I looked at him and shrugged my shoulders. So much for being forgotten.

“Come on in and get it, then.”

I got up and followed him back into the kitchen.

The four policemen and my mother just nodded at me while Herb poured a cup of coffee and then gestured for me to sit at the table. I went to sit down but stopped and looked out the window behind them, where I could see smoke still rising on the horizon.

“It’s hard to tell how far away that is,” Herb said, gesturing out the window. “I don’t suppose any of your patrols went in that direction?”

“No,” Officer O’Malley said. “That’s definitely on the far side of the Credit River, well out of our patrol areas.”

“But that doesn’t mean we didn’t see a couple of things that had caught fire,” Brett added.

“More than one?” my mother asked.

“Two on our patrol,” Brett said. “Three if you include the car that was torched.”

“And another one just south of Burnham,” Howie added. “A small house fire—they were using a charcoal grill under the overhang of the deck and it caught. Luckily they were able to put it out with some handheld extinguishers.”

“At least it was an accident,” my mother said.

“Fires are going to be a problem if the weather continues to be this dry. Particularly in those town houses at the top of the neighborhood. There’s no way to call the fire department, and even if you did they have no operational trucks or running water. A fire can get out of control really fast and spread to surrounding buildings,” Herb said. “Do we have any firefighters who live in this neighborhood?”

“Yes, at least a couple,” my mother confirmed. “Isn’t your friend Greg’s father a fireman?” she asked me.

“A fire captain,” I said. “They live a couple streets over on Wheelwright.”

“That’s good to know,” Herb said. “He’d also know if there are other firefighters living right here. I was thinking it would be really helpful if we could get some firefighters to do a door-to-door and talk to people, educate them about dangers around candles, indoor fires, and the use of propane.”

“That would be helpful,” my mother agreed. “I’ve been worried about that tanker sitting up in the gas station at the top of the hill.”

“What if we were to secure the tanker?” Herb said.

“I think the checkpoint by the plaza does that to some extent. Are you suggesting moving the checkpoint farther out?” my mother asked.

“I’m suggesting the opposite—moving the tanker closer, right into the neighborhood.” Herb paused. “Actually, to be fair, it was Adam’s suggestion.”

My mother looked at me.

“We could guard it better,” I said.

“Is the truck working?” she asked.

“Dead as a doorknob, but I think I could arrange for it to be moved—of course, with your permission,” Herb said. “I’ve gotten to know the owner of the station, and he’d be relieved to have it moved. If we brought it right into the neighborhood, we could guarantee its safety.”

Brett asked the obvious question about how we were going to move a stalled eighteen-wheeler.

I knew Herb’s answer and said it myself. “People. Lots of people. We’re going to pull it.”

“No, seriously, kid,” Brett said.

“He’s right,” Herb replied. “All we have to do is get it over the crest of the road, and then it’s all downhill. Hook enough people up to enough ropes, and we can do it.”

“If you think you can do it, go for it, with my blessing,” my mother said.

Herb nodded and was quiet. I figured he was thinking about the details. But after some more chatter from the other guys, Mom turned the meeting back to a report on their night’s work.

“So how has it been having civilian partners along on patrol?” she asked.

“I think it worked out fairly well,” Howie said.

“I like it. It would have been way eerie to be out there by myself,” Brett said.

“What’s wrong, rookie, afraid of the dark?” Officer O’Malley joked, and Howie and Sergeant Evans laughed.

“I think he’s only showing wisdom,” my mom said. “You have to understand that between your weapon and your vehicle you aren’t just enforcing the law, you’re a target for those wanting those two things.”

There was a long silence.

“I know I wouldn’t want to be alone out there,” Herb said. “I was also thinking it’s probably wise to ask us civilians to keep silent about what we see.”

“Good point,” my mother said.

“It’s like being in a ghost town except with people, if that makes any sense,” Sergeant Evans said.

“Yes, perfect sense,” Herb said. “No lights, no noise, but you know that people are behind the windows looking at you.”

“We did have eyes on us everywhere,” the sergeant added. “The noise of our vehicles draws people out or at least makes them pull back the curtains to look at us.”

“Did you notice any other vehicles on the road?” Mom asked.

“I pulled over a big old dump truck,” Brett said. “When he stopped I noticed the back was filled with people. He was charging them a small fortune to drive them back out here from the city.”

“It’s nice to know that free enterprise isn’t dead,” my mother said. “Any other vehicles?”

“A few older motorcycles.”

“And a couple of antique cars,” Officer O’Malley added. “And of course there were lots and lots of bikes.”

“How are the checkpoints working out?” Herb asked.

“I think they’ve really helped to keep things safe and controlled,” Howie said.

“That’s good to know,” my mother said. “Any reports of looting or personal assaults?”

“We weren’t really stopping to take reports,” Brett said, “but there are three stores in the little plaza on the southeast corner of College Way and Maple that had their front windows smashed two nights ago. I talked to a couple of other owners, and they said they’ve been sleeping in their stores to protect them.”

“That’s all to be expected,” Herb said. “As supplies of food and water dwindle, there will be more looting in the days to come.”

“Jeez,” Brett said. “I don’t like to hear talk about days to come.”

“Unfortunately, we have to be aware of that possibility,” my mother said, “although that fact is best kept from the general population. Some things have to remain unreported.”

“Are things being kept from us?” Sergeant Evans asked.

“Yeah, Cap, are we completely in the loop?” Howie asked.

“If I know, you know it,” my mother said. “And I’m only working on guesses, not facts.”

“She’s right,” Herb said. “We need to prepare for the worst and pray for the best.”

“Okay. I’m going to turn things over to Herb for a minute. I have a feeling he has some other ideas about how we should be preparing.” Going on five days of this mess, Mom seemed more open to Herb’s input than ever.

Herb shifted in his seat. “Well, I was wondering about a few things, but only of course with your approval.”

“Fire away, Herb,” she said. “We’re just talking now.”

The first thing Herb suggested was setting up other checkpoints to provide additional security for the neighborhood.

“How many more?” Brett asked.

“Three.” Herb got up and walked over to the map still taped to the kitchen cupboard. “Here, in the field behind the school, here where the walking path meets Erin Mills Parkway, and the third over in the electrical-tower field, where the creek passes under Highway 403.”

My mom smiled. “I knew you’d given this a lot of thought,” she said.

“I have,” Herb said. “Which brings me to my second suggestion. Ideally, these civilian checkpoints would be manned either by people with some background in the military or by first responders.”

“That would be ideal,” my mother agreed.

“But the difficulty is that, just like we didn’t know there was a fire chief in the neighborhood, we don’t know who we have who fits into those categories and others. For example, we should be identifying doctors and nurses. What happens if somebody gets sick or injured? We can’t be searching for somebody then, or lives might be lost.”

“I know of a doctor who lives on Talbot Court,” Sergeant Evans said.

“And my neighbor is a delivery room nurse,” Howie added.

“Those are exactly the people we need to know about,” Herb said. “But we need to know what everybody does who lives here. We can’t afford not to know the resources we have at hand.”

“Are you suggesting a census of the neighborhood?” my mother asked.

“Yes. There are four hundred homes in this little quadrant. We need to know who all of them are and what skills they possess.”

“That would take a lot of time and a lot of manpower.”

“We have people and we have time. It’s better to give people a job to do than to leave them feeling helpless.”

“My wife could help do that,” Officer O’Malley said. “She’s an accountant and just about the best-organized person I know.”

“She’d have to be organized to keep you in line,” Howie joked.

“You said it. If she had ten people to help her, she could get it done quickly.”

“I’m sure she could,” Herb said. “Especially if we can have people come to one location where they report to us. This morning we spread the word, and this afternoon we do the actual survey. To draw them in, we say that if they register, they can bring buckets and receive fresh drinking water,” Herb suggested.

“And where will we get that?” my mother asked.

“With your permission, you’re looking at it.” He gestured out the window to our pool. “It’s clean and still has enough chlorination remaining to be fit for drinking. Would you agree to part with some of your water, Captain?”

“I think that would be the least I could do.”

“It would be reassuring to people to see something was being done. Sometimes movement is as good as progress. People will be reassured that we’re doing
something
.”

“Okay, it’s agreed, then,” my mother said. “Let’s divvy up these tasks. And then I think those of us who need it can get a little sleep before we get down to business.”

17

Rachel and Danny had been put to bed early. We’d spent the day together, first playing some board games, then tossing a Frisbee, and finally I organized a baseball game on the diamond up behind the school. It was a good time—lots of our friends played—and for a while I almost forgot what was going on. It was relaxing to have it go away for a while. Maybe we could play again tomorrow.

Supper had been more of the same—semifrozen burger patties that I pulled out of our freezer and cooked on the barbecue. Danny looked like he was going to complain but was smart enough to keep his mouth closed. I couldn’t help wondering when we had last filled the propane tank and how much was left and what would happen after that.

Now Mom and I sat around the table having a cup of tea by moonlight and a couple of candles. We still had the power line from Herb, but he’d turned off the generator for the night and so there were no other lights. If it hadn’t been that we were sitting in the dark without any background noise of a TV or radio, it would have felt normal. Mom was drinking out of the
WORLD’S BEST MOM
mug I had made for her in a crafts class when I was seven or eight. She always said it was her favorite mug in the world. She was in her usual Mom clothing. It was almost hard to believe all of what had happened, and was still happening. Or, really, what
wasn’t
happening. The area outside our doors was shut down. No, that was wrong. It wasn’t just the area outside our doors—it was the entire country, maybe even the entire world.

Mom looked over at me. “How do you think your brother and sister are doing?”

“All right, I guess. I made sure they had a good day today. They’re just worried about Dad.”

“I know he’s fine,” she said.

“You can’t know that.”

“I know your father. He’s so impatient he’s probably left Chicago and is working his way back home instead of waiting for things to recover.”

I
could
picture him walking home across the country, but I imagined him in an old Cessna. I shrugged, and Mom reached out to hold my hand.

“Neither of us can even think of him as not being fine. We have to be as reassuring as we can with Danny and Rachel.”

I gave her a quick smile. “They are scared, but they don’t understand how big all of this is.”

“Nobody really does,” she said.

“Herb has a pretty good idea.” I looked at my watch. I’d asked Herb to come over. “He should be here soon.”

“Do you know what he wants to talk about?” she asked.

“It was my idea. I asked him to explain things to us,” I said.
“Everything.”

“It would be good to know all that he knows. He’s been slightly ahead of the curve on things, knowing what was going to happen.”

“He told me that this is like a chess game.”

“Who does he think he’s playing chess against?” she asked.