The Rule of Three (26 page)

“With the ongoing training, the continued construction of the perimeter fence, and the communications we’ve established, we seem to be in solid shape,” my mother added.

By now Todd’s father had taken on a leadership role in building the perimeter wall—and Todd was at his side working. And it wasn’t much different with Lori—although she wasn’t working on the fence but on the farm.

The Petersons had moved into an unoccupied house beside the park. The garage had become a chicken coop, and the land had become pasture for the cows and horses. Lori and her mother had been working hard to care for the animals while her father had been occupied plowing fields and planting throughout the neighborhood. Rachel had been spending a lot of time up there helping out, as well as taking the occasional ride on the horses with Lori.

“Can you tell me more about the communications?” Judge Roberts asked.

“We have equipped each sentry team with walkie-talkies as well as a way to signal if there are issues,” my mother said. “Each section has a distinct signal they can use to signify trouble, and we can direct help to that quadrant.”

“If a signal is sounded, then all off-duty security will be there within minutes to support the sentries and repel any outside danger,” Herb added.

“That is reassuring.”

The light on the percolator came on to show that the coffee was ready. Perfect timing. I’d bring out coffee—my invitation to go in and listen a little closer.

“Funny,” Howie said, “what’s bothering the people on the front line is the thought not so much of having to defend the neighborhood from hostiles but of having to turn away innocents who are coming every day.”

“I don’t understand,” Councilwoman Stevens said.

“People walking by the fences who have to be turned away at the gates. Worse still, often these aren’t just strangers. We’re seeing people we know. They’re asking for help, you know, food or water, or to come inside our neighborhood, and we have to say no.”

“There isn’t a choice,” Herb said.

“I know that, but it doesn’t make it easier,” Howie explained.

I walked around the table putting down mugs in front of the committee members, who nodded or thanked me.

“You know, it might be possible that we could let some people in,” Herb said.

“It is?” my mother asked.

“There are some people out there with specific skills that could benefit us. It would be wise to have a second farmer, a couple more builders, and another good mechanic or two.”

“Do you want us to start asking people about their jobs?” Howie asked.

“We’ll have to give it more thought, but there are certain skill sets that would be helpful and would legitimize the food and water they’d use.”

“Speaking of water, is that being provided for?” Judge Roberts asked.

“Good progress,” Mr. Nicholas, the engineer, answered. “We’ve been diverting gutters of houses to harvest rainwater from roofs into collection barrels. Or into swimming pools, if people have them. Pools make excellent storage tanks, and that water can be used for washing, flushing toilets, and cleaning and irrigation. In addition we’re looking at ways to block off the sewers so that rainwater can be stored underground.”

“Excellent work,” the judge said. “And will any of that water be able to be used for drinking?”

“With the right amount of chlorine, almost any water is drinkable,” he said.

“Just how much chlorine do we have?” Councilwoman Stevens asked.

“Enough to provide drinking water for the neighborhood for six months,” Herb said.

“So, much more than we’ll need,” she said.

Herb didn’t answer, although I knew he didn’t see it the same way.

“It certainly wouldn’t hurt if the scavenging parties can go into the pool supply store,” my mother said.

“We’ve already explored that,” Mr. Gomez said, “but it’s too late. It’s been stripped of every useful chemical.”

I guess Herb wasn’t the only person who’d figured it out—he just did it earlier than everybody else.

“I’m not so concerned about our quantities of chlorine as the potential for human waste contamination creating an outbreak of a waterborne disease,” Dr. Morgan said. “We aren’t equipped to deal with cholera or diphtheria.”

“But that shouldn’t be a worry, should it?” Judge Roberts said.

“There is always potential, but it should be minimal as long as the sanitation system continues to function,” Dr. Morgan said.

“I guess we’re lucky that the toilets are still operating if we pour in water,” the judge added.

“It’s an incredibly simple system,” Mr. Nicholas explained. “It’s all gravity based. Pour water down the toilets and it flushes away waste to a lower level. But if the system becomes jammed or clogged anywhere between here and the treatment center then the whole thing could back up.”

“And then?”

“Then we’d have to find another way to get rid of our waste. And if the system is broken here, then it would be broken all over, including upstream from us. It would be almost certain then that the water from upstream would contain contaminants such as
E. coli
and other troublemakers.”

“How about as a precaution, I do a regular testing of the water from the stream?” Dr. Morgan asked.

“Excellent suggestion, Doc, but we have to take steps to act on those precautions,” Herb said. “If we wait until it happens, it will be too late. We need to start planning for waste disposal, and right now we need to start digging wells.”

“Wells? Is that possible?” Ernie asked.

“Completely,” Mr. Nicholas said. “The water table here is only a few feet below the surface. We wouldn’t have to dig any more than ten feet if we choose the right location. I can put somebody to work on that tomorrow.”

Herb smiled. “That’s the sort of response I like to hear. People are often good at finding excuses for why they can’t do something.”

“I’m an engineer,” Mr. Nicholas said. “My job is finding a way to make it work.”

“Any more coffee?” Judge Roberts asked.

“Yes, sir.” I topped up his cup.

“Thanks, son. That is certainly better coffee than we got at supper.”

“Sorry, but it’s hard to make coffee for a thousand people,” Ernie said.

“No need to apologize. The meal itself was excellent!” the judge said.

“Lots of people to help there, and we will get better as we go along,” Ernie said.

According to the plan, right now families were responsible for their own breakfast and lunch, either using up food they had in their homes already or relying on neighbors to share with them, and there was dinner for everybody, served at the gym, in shifts. We’d been lucky. Not only had we gone shopping just before this happened but Herb kept bringing over extra supplies. How much did he have in his basement?

“You have to know that we can all survive on far less food than the amount people usually eat,” Herb said.

“Is the plan for us to have to survive on less food?” the councilwoman asked. “Are you saying we’re going to have shortages?” She sounded panicky.

“We have food for now,” Herb said. “Correct, Ernie?”

“Dried beans, rice, canned goods, other staples. For a couple of months at least.”

“But we won’t be able to harvest most crops until at least four months from now,” Mr. Peterson said.

“We’ll be supplementing our existing stock by scavenging and gathering from the surrounding areas,” Herb said. “Things certainly went well today, right, Jeff?”

“Yes, it was a good day for scavenging,” Mr. Gomez said. Along with a group of others, escorted by armed guards, he was making daily rounds outside the neighborhood looking for food and other things that were needed.

I knew what Herb was doing, redirecting them away from the question of food shortages and bringing in positive news. Nobody else seemed to notice, but I did. Food was going to be an issue, just like he’d talked to me about in the beginning.

“In one day, the scavenging team procured enough dog food to keep all the neighborhood canines fed for the next few months,” Mr. Gomez continued, “as well as bags of soil, fertilizer, assorted tools and, interestingly, some crossbows and bolts, and some bows and arrows.”

“That is very successful,” Herb said.

“Maybe tomorrow we can locate more human food,” Mr. Gomez said.

“Although I know you wouldn’t turn your back on any food supplies you can find, I think we have some other items on the list.”

“What do you think we need first?” Mr. Gomez asked.

“Water will fall from the sky and food will spring from our soil. We need to prioritize about things that we can’t replicate. We need to get sufficient fuel supplies to run our vehicles and generators.”

“I thought the fuel truck that we dragged into the neighborhood would provide enough to last us,” Ernie said.

“It never hurts to have more than we need,” Herb said. “If nothing else we can always trade extra fuel to get additional supplies like food.”

“So what do you have in mind?” my mother asked.

“I want to take all of the fuel out of the underground tanks at the gas station.”

“Couldn’t we just expand our perimeter defense to enclose the gas station?” my mother asked.

“Even if we could build fences it’s never advisable to concentrate such a valuable resource and store it near the perimeter of your defenses. Not only does that make it more vulnerable, but it actually encourages somebody to mount an attack.”

“But where would you store it?” Judge Roberts asked.

“That’s the beauty of it,” Herb said. “We transfer it to the gas tanks of cars throughout the neighborhood. Maybe those vehicles can’t be driven, but they can store fuel.”

“That makes perfect sense,” my mother said.

“And we can also get more fuel and more storage by going out and getting vehicles that have stalled on the roads just outside the neighborhood,” Herb added.

“Also,” Mr. Nicholas said, “we’d be gathering tires that can be burned for heat, and metals and parts that can be stored for other use. It’s amazing what the components on a car can be converted to.”

“It sounds like you have some ideas. Would you like to share them?” my mother asked.

“I started thinking about the use of car parts, including alternators and generators, to construct small windmills to generate power,” Mr. Nicholas said.

“You can do that?” Judge Roberts asked.

“We can. Renewable energy would free us of the long-term need for gas to fuel the generators,” he explained.

I had the feeling that Mr. Nicholas probably had a better understanding than most of what “long-term” might actually mean.

“Excellent,” Herb said. “Please start whatever is necessary to begin experimenting in that area.”

“I’ll be really happy when all those cars are removed from outside the walls,” Howie said. “Right now they’re nothing more than places that outsiders could use for cover in a gunfight or to set on fire. So our defense would be more solid once those are removed.”

“It’s a win-win-win situation,” my mother added.

“And how would you move these cars?” the judge asked.

“We break a window, jam the ignition on, and then either push them or tow them in.”

“I’m still hesitant to take possession of other people’s property,” the judge said.

“What if we list each vehicle by plate, vehicle identification number, and the person listed on the ownership papers, if the papers are in the car? Does that seem sufficient?” Herb asked.

“Works for me,” the judge said.

It had been agreed that as a founding principle we would try to respect the rights of others, including those outside our community. Items taken were to be listed, and any other act on behalf of the neighborhood that could be interpreted as criminal had to be brought back before the committee for review and approval by the committee members.

“Mr. Gomez, can you take charge of gathering those vehicles?” my mother said.

“Of course, first thing tomorrow. I’ll get another team together for that task. We have lots of people willing to help with almost anything.”

“I can offer security,” Howie said. “We can simply extend our guards to the other sides of those streets while that team is working on retrieving the cars.”

“And I can free up people to help get the cars,” Mr. Nicholas added.

“I appreciate that sort of enthusiasm from all of you,” Herb said, and others nodded in agreement.

“The cars from Burnham could be hauled in and parked in the school parking lot while those from Erin Mills Parkway could be stored in the mini-mall parking lot,” Mr. Gomez said.

“Excellent, just excellent,” my mother said. “Now, do we have anything further to discuss or can we allow everyone to get on with their work?”

“I have nothing else on my agenda,” Judge Roberts said. “Let’s adjourn and reconvene tomorrow at the same time.”

28

“Cover up,” Brett said.

We both pushed down the visors on the riot helmets we wore, and he took his nightstick and smashed out the window on a pickup truck. The glass shattered into a million little pieces, covering the whole bench seat of the truck. I popped up my visor and then reached in, unlocked the door, and opened it up. With a gloved hand I brushed off the driver’s side.

“I never thought breaking into cars would be part of a police officer’s job,” Brett said.

He handed me the screwdriver. I jammed it into the ignition and turned it enough to unlock the steering wheel and transmission. Now I could shift the vehicle into neutral. Brett waved for the group of kids hovering by the side of the road to come over.

They raced in our direction, pushing and laughing as they came. Practically before I could climb out of the truck, two of them jostled to get into the driver’s seat—the bigger of the two won the contest and pulled the door closed to seal the deal. He was somewhat older than the rest, maybe thirteen or fourteen. The other one joined his companions at the back of the truck. Funny how much older I felt than these kids. Actually I’d always felt older than everybody who was my age and quite a few grown-ups. Throughout this whole situation I’d been entrusted with information that almost nobody else knew, information that made me feel older, weighed me down.