The Rule of Three by Eric Walters

cowered, trying to hide behind him. I caught sight of Brett stepping out of the store through one of the shattered windows. My mother appeared in the second—there was blood flowing down her face from a cut on her scalp.
    “Everybody stop!” my mother yelled. She aimed her gun in the air and fired another shot, and the entire crowd froze.
    Brett was holding his revolver in one hand. In the other he had his baton. Herb had also unholstered his weapon. It was now in his hand by his side, his other hand cradling it, partially hiding it from view.
    “Those inside the store need to leave!” my mother yelled out. “If you try to leave with stolen merchandise, you will be arrested and charged with looting and rioting. Get out and go home now!”
    A man came out past her, and then another, and then a woman holding a small child by the hand. This woman had brought her kid along as she went into the store to loot!
    People were leaving the store, but they weren’t leaving the lot. If anything, there were more people coming, slowly walking toward the front of the store.
    “This isn’t over,” Herb said to me quietly. “Come.” We threaded our way through the crowd, and I noticed that his hand was now in his pants pocket, his pistol out of sight.
    “We just want food and water!” a man called out, and the crowd reacted with a roar of agreement.
    “This isn’t the way to get it,” my mother replied. Blood was dripping down the side of her face.
    “Then what is the way?” somebody else yelled. The crowd was now becoming louder, pressing closer again.
    “We have a right to food and water!” another person in the crowd yelled, and again the crowd reacted. They were going from crowd to mob again, right before my eyes. My mother wiped her face with her hand.
    Herb stepped forward until he was standing beside my mother. He whispered in her ear a moment and she nodded. Then he spoke to the crowd. “Folks, you do deserve food and water. And I know how you can get it!”
    “Let’s hear it!” a voice called.
    I wanted to hear it, too, but I also wanted to know about my mother. I sidled past Herb until I stood right behind her.
    “Are you okay?” I whispered.
    “Fine, just a little cut—nothing. A piece of glass. You know how head cuts can bleed.” She turned to the crowd. “Let’s listen to my friend here. His name is Herb.”
    “You’ll all be able to purchase some water and food from this store,” Herb continued.
    “What if we don’t have cash?” somebody called out. “We can’t get any from the banks, and credit cards aren’t working!”
    “A credit system, an honor system will be arranged where some merchandise will be given out on the promise that you’ll pay once power is restored,” Herb announced.
    “He’s not authorized to make that offer!” a man exclaimed as he stepped out of the store. “I’m the manager, and he has no right to—”
    “Shut up and listen,” my mother snapped. She turned to Herb. “Go on.”
    “We need you all to stay calm and orderly,” Herb said. “I know you’re good people and want to do the right thing. Here’s how it will work. There will be a line, and it will start over there, right by the sign on the street.”
    As one, the crowd turned and looked in the other direction. The entire mob had become a group of obedient children. Herb was controlling the group like a magician.
    “I want you all to know that you have my word that things will be distributed fairly so that everybody who is present now in this parking lot will receive supplies.”
    I looked at my mother. Her quizzical expression mirrored my thoughts—how is he going to do that? But he sounded so calm, so matter-of-fact that I believed him, and judging from the reaction, so did the crowd.
    “Okay, slowly now, women with children and older people move forward and then in just a minute I want the rest of you to make an orderly line over there by the sign. And remember, we’re all civilized people,