The Rule of Three (34 page)

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.”

36

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?”

“I’m not planning on doing that, but still it’s better to have that knowledge if needed,” Herb said. “Besides, if I do shoot at it, I have to do more than
try
to knock it out of the air. We can’t afford to get those fellows mad at us. If we start something, we better be able to finish it.”

“A Cessna can fly over at a height where its pilot or passengers could see what’s going on down here, but we wouldn’t have a chance of hitting him,” I said. “In fact, if he was really high, that plane could have passed over without us even noticing.”

“I’ve thought about that. They could be well aware of our existence, but I’m pretty sure we’re safe for now.”

Herb assuming anything seemed out of character.

“Why do you think we’re safe for now?”

“Think about it. If they flew over they’d see fields that are starting to grow food. There’d be no point in coming now. They’d be far better off to let us do all the work, grow the food, and then take it from us.”

“I guess that does make sense. It’s reassuring and upsetting all at once. Do you really think they might come and try to do that?”

“It should be upsetting, because it’s real. We need to continue to be prepared, and that preparation includes asking about things like shooting down a Cessna.”

“But just because they fly overhead doesn’t mean they’re a threat,” I said. There was a code among pilots to look out for each other. That could be me or my father up there.

But then again they had shot at me already! In times of war, the code disappeared. Is that what this was? Were we at war? Would we have to try to shoot it out of the sky?

“They might not be a threat, but we have to assume that they are. If we assume they’re hostile and we’re wrong, then they’re dead. If we assume that they’re friendly and they’re not, then we’re dead. Which would you rather it be?”

“But they could become our allies, like Olde Burnham.” I needed to at least think there was a way out of this that didn’t involve us trying to kill each other.

“They could become allies, but there’s a big difference. I initiated contact with the Olde Burnham neighborhood knowing that we were clearly bigger and stronger. If they started something with us we could finish it with them. They weren’t a threat to us.”

“But we could have been a threat to them,” I said.

“We could have
destroyed
them,” Herb said. “Just like those people we discovered could destroy us.”

That thought sent a chill up my spine.

“We present a very attractive target. Our job is to make us a
hard
target. We have to make it too expensive, too costly, for them to try to overrun us. If we are well enough defended they might try a nonmilitary approach. We might be able to offer them food.”

“So we would trade with them.”

“Well, if you consider us giving them food and them not killing us a trade, then I guess we’d be trading,” Herb said.

“But that’s like blackmail, like extortion.”

“It’s survival. Of course it’s a fine balance. If we gave away too much food we’d be in trouble anyway.”

“A lot of grumbling about food has started already.”

“Everybody has run out of their own personal food by now,” Herb said.

“Almost everybody,” I said. Herb had stocked so much canned and packaged food that he was still doling it out to my family and the Petersons. I had been shocked when I had seen all the full cupboards and shelves in his basement, but now that I was spending so much time with him, I wasn’t really surprised. He must have been through a lot to be so cautious. “I guess I should feel a little guilty.”

“No you shouldn’t. It’s my food and I can share it with whomever I choose. Besides it’s not like anybody is starving. There’s enough food from the community kitchens for everybody to live on,” he said.

“That was a pretty good stew last night,” I admitted. “It was very tasty, although I guess I really don’t want to know what the meat was.”

“Ernie would be the person who would know best. You could ask him.”

“I think I’ll pass on that.” I knew what the possibilities could be. I’d noticed that there were far fewer squirrels in the neighborhood and fewer stray dogs outside the walls, which sort of gave me more information than I wanted to know. I knew that whatever people were able to catch or trap was being added to the meals.

“I’m hoping that tonight’s meeting will help people understand why there’s a need to restrict and ration our food,” Herb said.

Each week there was a large town hall meeting at the gym for all who wanted to attend. That, along with the little newspaper, was the best way to pass around important information.

“I guess the big question is, how much are you going to tell them?”

“It’s a fine balance, a delicate dance. We have to give them enough information to get them scared but not enough that they’re terrified.”

“Are you going to tell them about the other settlement, the one with all the weapons?”

“There’s no need. Not yet. That’s still classified and restricted to the committee members. You are going to be at the meeting, right?”

“I’ll be there as long as you don’t make me talk again.”

“I think that should be avoided. You’re not the best person to talk when we might have to shade the truth.”

37

I awoke sometime before dawn to the sound of thunder. Funny, the skies had been clear when I went to bed and I didn’t hear any rain on the skylight. Maybe the rain was coming but hadn’t arrived. It would be good for the crops if it did rain.

Then I thought about my plane. It was in its little canvas hangar, but if there was a storm coming there could be big winds. I should get up and make sure it was okay. I sleepily pushed back the sheet and then jumped at the sound of pounding on the front door.

I leaped up and grabbed my revolver. I’d gone no more than a couple of steps when something lit the way down the stairs. My mother was already heading down, a flashlight in one hand, a shotgun in the other. Rachel and Danny came out of their rooms, too. I didn’t need much light to see the scared look on their faces. I hoped they didn’t see the same expression on mine.

There was more pounding on the front door—stronger and even more insistent.

“Open up!” It was Herb.

My mother threw open the door.

“Olde Burnham is being attacked!” he exclaimed.

There was another rumble, but it wasn’t thunder.

“Explosives,” Herb said. “They radioed to say they were under heavy attack.”

“What do we do?” my mother questioned.

“I’ve already sent Brett to get the away team ready to go out—with your permission of course.”

“Of course. Shouldn’t we send more people if we’re going to help fend off the attack?” she asked.

“They’re going in that direction, but we can’t commit them to do anything until we know what’s out there.”

“Shouldn’t you be back on the walkie-talkie, then?”

His expression turned even grimmer. “I can’t get a reply.”

“Have they been overrun?” my mother asked. “Is it over?”

“If it was over, the explosions would stop.”

“So we should get every available person to offer assistance and—”

“We need to know what’s happening. We need to sit tight and wait for Brett to report in.”

“There may not be time! We have to go right away if there’s any chance to offer assistance,” my mother insisted.

“We need to get ready to go, but we can’t go,” Herb said. “If we rush into the unknown, in the dark, we might only get ourselves killed and save nobody.”

“But it could take hours for him to get there and back and—”

“What if I flew there to see?”

“You’re not equipped for night flight, are you?” Herb asked.

I shook my head. “I could do it … but not really.”

“Then let’s just get ready for action, but not take any right now,” Herb said. “Agreed?”

My mother hesitated. “Agreed. It’s hard to just sit back and wait, but I know you’re right. Let’s get ready,” my mother said.

*   *   *

The explosions had stopped long before there was enough light to fly. Waiting, we’d made some preparations, getting ready to go. I took off, with Herb beside me. I’d sat in my plane waiting until the first thin ray of light had allowed me to fly. The whole neighborhood had been awoken either by the explosions or by other people who had heard them. It was eerie being out on the street, silently surrounded by others, everyone listening, waiting, wondering, and thinking the worst. It had been a relief finally to be allowed to get the ultralight in the air. The sun was just up above the horizon as I started to circle Olde Burnham. With each circle I got tighter and tighter. The air was still, and smoldering fires were sending smoke straight up into the sky, rising and fading until it dissipated and disappeared. Herb, beside me, studied the ground with binoculars. I needed to stay focused on flying.