The narration of this Episode is via Wondercraft.
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River Retreat, Just outside Almond, North Carolina - Friday, June 9, 2028
Eliza couldn't shake this troubling concern for Bryan's well-being, constantly plagued by the thought that he might be grappling with a profound internal conflict. This tug-of-war between staying true to his beliefs and the pressing need to support his family seemed to be taking its toll on him. Eliza, sweet Eliza, was left in the shadows, with Bryan's reticence keeping her from grasping the full extent of his endeavors. She was aware, though — that much was clear — he was entangled in some dealings with Theodore Geraldini, dealings that seemed to weigh heavily on his conscience.
Eliza found herself filled with a deeper sense of gratitude toward Ted than in previous years, grateful that he had taken the effort to ensure Bryan was informed about the necessary precautions, like the removal of all smart home devices from the Almond residence, down to the very Smart TVs themselves. Each project they had collaborated on seemed to pale in comparison to the gravity of this one. Yet, despite the appreciation swelling within her for his forthrightness, there was no escaping the creeping apprehension that shadowed her thoughts regarding the implications of the information he disclosed. Ted's connections to clandestine government agencies, some so secretive that their very existence had eluded Eliza until now, only added to the weight of her uncertainty.
The Keep
As Eliza meticulously tallied the barrels of rice and beans, a quiet sense of discontent began to brew within her. She was knee-deep in calculations, pondering the sheer weight of sustenance required. Each substantial 50-pound bag of black beans, boasting some 800 ounces, was but a drop in the bucket of need. Dividing it into modest half-cup helpings, Eliza discerned that such a bag, when dissected into sustenance for eight hardworking mouths and sealed away in mylar for preservation, could muster approximately 40 meals – a total of roughly 320 servings.
Yet, as she scribbled and ciphered, Eliza couldn't shake the gnawing realization that it might not be enough. Her heart weighed heavy with responsibility; the food stores she counted represented more than mere nourishment – they held the promise of contented bellies for families and friends. The day's meticulous count of all the "dry goods" transcended mere routine. Each figure she noted stood testament to her deep-seated yearning that every loved one would have their fill, yet the nagging question lingered: Would there ever truly be enough food to satisfy the long-term needs of all who depended on her and Bryan.
A sudden, loud voice shattered the silence, jolting her from contemplations of beans, rice, and the myriad edibles meticulously packed in vast arrays of bulging Mylar bags. At first a shock as she was so deep in thought, and then slowly, a smile crept upon her face as recognition dawned - the caller was none other than her youngest daughter, Lane.
"Mom," Lane yelled from the kitchen. "Where's the stew meat?"
"Where it has always been. Look in the freezer down here." Eliza yelled back.
"Oh, truly, the thought of that cramped cell hardly delights me." Lane declared with a note of forced levity in her voice.
As she descended the stairs, a smile played upon her lips as she pressed the murphy door, mimicking Rodney's actions at the famed Smithsonian Aerospace Museum. The charm of returning to her own peculiar den couldn't fully mask the wave of claustrophobia that washed over her at the thought of narrow confines.
Yet, despite the snug entrance to the crypt amplifying her unease, a genuine gleam of contentment flickered in her eyes – for there was no place like home, no matter how constricting it might be.
Lane could not help but marvel at how her mother, Eliza, who seemed to infuse even the simplest of tasks with grace. Her heartbeat synchronized with the steady humming of her mother, a soothing melody that resonated in the musty air of the crypt.
The soft red glow inside the crypt lent a gentle illumination as Eliza meticulously took inventory, the entrance ajar, inviting yet another secret to be discovered.
Lane stood in quiet admiration, the significance of her mother's presence in this place, grounding her like the deeply rooted appreciation for her family and what they do and represent.
Lane looked at crypt and while the way into the room didn't look like a bank vault door, it felt like it weighed the same. Grabbing the edge of the door and using her own weight to open it further, Lane entered "the keep" although in her mind, it was more of a crypt.
Lane walked through a short hallway finally entering the main room.
"Mom, this place still makes me think of the crypts where they buried people beneath the city of Paris in the catacombs," Lane quipped.
"Boo!" Eliza jokingly said, as Lane looked at her like a millennial would and say, "OMG."
"Lane, you know one of the benefits of building a house along a river and against a hill (well, sort of a small mountain) is that from the outside, you can't see this room - the room your Dad spent over two years building this house. Just imagine what people would say if they knew that there was a 1,800 square feet room with walls made from steel reinforced concrete not 10 feet from them."
Eliza thought about how the "river retreat" is immersed in the gentle embrace of nature.
Lane continued, "Oh sure, Mom, because the next ice age is totally happening in our garage, right? What are we aiming for, a personal glacier or are you just planning to singlehandedly reverse global warming with our family's collection of a haven of tranquility, shielded from the prying eyes of the world."
Funny enough, Eliza thought of the realtor's advertisement on the parcel of land they had bought to build the River Retreat.
Eliza smiled recalling the description.
'Here, the river meanders with purpose, bestowing upon the opportunistic few, who seek refuge in their seasonal abodes, a panoramic vista that stretches both upstream and downstream.'
Though the majority of the plots that had been sold and the dwellings built on them are left to the intermittent care of their absentee owners—those 'part-timers' and 'townies'—a handful of souls - have woven their entire lives into the fabric of this place.
The community, albeit small, is sliced in two by the very river that defines it: a collection of residents on the East Side and their counterparts on the West. The latter is a stone's throw from civilization, readily accessible via the hum of a main artery, where vehicles come and go with ease. In stark contrast, the East Side, hosting a mere quartet of homes, nestles at the terminus of a 5-mile stretch of untouched earth, affirming its communion with the surrounding landscape.
Within this enclave, those few who call the River Retreat their constant home have found kinship, an alliance of hearts and hands, founded on the principles of unwavering support and reciprocal care. Here, more is more serene, and life dances to the rhythm of the flowing waters, attentive only to the warm embrace of neighborly bonds.
"Yes, yes, I know. I helped too." Lane replied rather a matter of fact thinking about the time spent helping to build the River Retreat and its hidden "Keep," as Bryan and Eliza referred to it. The Keep was one of the family's best kept secrets.
Remembering why she came down here in the first place, the stew meat, Lane quizzed her mom, "Which freezer Mom?" Lane said as she noticed her dad had added another standup freezer to the group of 3 that was already there. "Now, he's got 4 freezers plus the 2 refrigerators?"
Eliza brought herself back from thinking about River Retreat and back to the task at hand.
Eliza replied. "Because with only three freezers in the Everest base camp we've got going here, one might simply perish from lack of frosty storage options. But now, with the addition of freezer number four, plus the twin refrigeration monoliths, life can finally resume with the assurance that the next ice age can be adequately hosted in our own kitchen."
"Yes, that is all the electricity he had left with all the other stuff being powered by the Tesla Battery wall. The second refrigerator is for medications - some of which are for the neighbors. Of course, they don't know John and your dad have them," Eliza said shaking her head said while she did not look up from counting and inventorying supplies.
"Really though Mom, how many freezers do we need?"
"Lane, you know the freezers are only part of it," Eliza looked up from her paper notebook. "Anyway, if you are so full of energy, then you can help me counting Fats, Proteins, and Carbs."
"Don't forget the fiber, Mom." Lane shot back. "Let me get the stew stuff together, at least in the same freezer, and I'll be right back."
"But people won't be here for another week. Why are we starting so early?"
"Dad told me that for the fourth of July weekend, he hopes that we can use the 20-gallon cooking pot he picked upon on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Everybody in the MAG was told the weekend's food centered around the cauldron never going empty." Lane said.
The MAG was the Mutual Assistance Group, a group of likeminded people who committed themselves to supporting each other. Some even came from as far away as Arlington, Virginia, and Lane came from Savannah, Georgia. Everyone has a role to play. Even the kids of parents in the MAG have "jobs" at the River Retreat.
"And since I am in charge of cauldron operations, I am checking my list and checking it twice." Lane said sarcastically back to Eliza.
"Didn't Dad invite some newcomers to this summer's meeting?" Lane asked.
"Your Dad is smart. He invited the people in the MAG, but also others who have different political views from himself. So, during the weekend, we'll need to keep the murphy door closed with no talk about the Keep."
Lane quizzed, "Are the MAG members showing up during the week? I heard that sis and John are coming in tomorrow."
Eliza looked up at Lane again, "Yes, and they are coming the back way, using paper maps, gas cans, and starting early - like at 4am - to get here. John has found a new route that avoids Charlotte and Asheville. It's a long ride from Beaufort. Who would have thought that you can drive your car for 11 hours just transiting North Carolina?"
Lane smiled thinking of the last time she had made their trip using paper maps with her phone, watch, and other GPS device turned off from Savannah to River Retreat. Bryan had even showed them how to disable the GPS tracker inside their car.
Suddenly, Xander, Bryan's father, appeared at the door to the Keep. "I'm here to drop off something Bryan had me build. Eliza, where does he keep electronics?'"
Lane started laughing followed by Eliza grinning from ear to ear. "Well, I don't think he stores the electronics so much as just lays them down when he is done playing with them." A testament to Bryan's ADHD. "Have you had a look into the Communications Room? It’s the door over there." Eliza said pointing to a narrow door in the corner of the room.
Lane glared at the gizmo Xander was carrying. "What the heck is that anyway?" she asked.
"It's a cell phone jammer. Well, it is actually 3 different types of cell phone jammers and 2 Wi-Fi Jammers. In our MAG meeting on Wednesday night, we're going to test them. If they work - and they do - we're going to cycle them on and off during the 4th of July weekend."
"What Wednesday night meeting?" Lane asked.
"Oh, I thought I had told you. Wednesday night, Bryan is going to hold an Ops briefing with the MAG security team." Xander said as if everyone knew what an Ops Briefing was.
"Speaking of security, I need to check on Wahya." Lane said as Xander sat the jammers down on the shelving inside the Communications Room (the CR). The CR was full of equipment of all sorts. The radios were the most notable along with the Camera Monitoring system - all of which were 'off net' and not connected to any wireless network or Internet.
At that very moment, when the utterance 'Wahya' hung heavy in the air, a Belgian Malinois of majestic stature—with every bit of the 80 pounds that the breed could muster—strode with silent authority into the Keep, his presence as grand as legend yet with a gaze that whispered of kindred, almost human soul.
"You scarred me, Wahya." said Eliza as she looked up, not expecting Lane's dog to walk into the room.
Wahya carried an air about him that bordered on the human, a discerning presence that seemed to understand far beyond the canine world. The familiar fragrance of the McDonald family enveloped him—a comforting tapestry woven from their daily lives—and each MAG member's scent was an individual thread he had committed to memory. With a graceful composure akin to a silent guardian, Wahya entered the room. His gaze became a piercing study, unwavering in its focus on Lane, manifesting a protective aura for his known companions yet promising a formidable challenge to any unwelcome stranger who might dare intrude.
Wahya had been given to Lane for protection when she moved to Savannah. The dog had sort of a sixth sense and was able to fully understand Lane in almost everything Lane said to the animal. Wahya locked eyes with Lane and made a head tilt to his left twice. Without a word, Lane nodded her head up and down and the dog turned and walked upstairs.
"What the heck was that?" Xander asked.
Lane smiled, "Wahya and I have been working on non-verbal commands. That one, the head tilt to the left means Wahya has something he wants to show me."
"What if it is important? What I mean is - the tilt of a dog's head isn't a signal that gets your attention unless you are looking at him." Eliza quizzed.
"Well, did you notice? Xander, did you?" Lane responded.
"If I hadn't been looking at him, then no, I wouldn't." Eliza said turning her own head like a dog when hearing a whistle.
"The fruits of our diligent practice are now blooming," Lane replied with a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.
Lane thought with pride that Wahya would persist in his graceful gesture, an eloquent tilt of the head, holding his gaze until I acquiesce with my own subtle dip of acknowledgment. For weeks, we've danced this silent ballet, cultivating a language all our own. The compulsion for silence lays strong upon us; any vocal utterance from him would disrupt the tapestry of tranquility we weave. Thus, we devised this silent symphony, a lexicon of gestures, each a word unspoken yet understood. He and I, we are attuned beyond the ordinary, hearkening to the whispers of movement.
Xander looked at Lane and smiled. His granddaughter has the patience of Mother Teresa he thought.
Wahya and Luna
In truth, it was Xander who had sweet-talked Bryan into presenting Wahya as a cherished companion to Lane. Intent on maintaining equality and steering clear of favoritism, Bryan had generously bestowed upon Lillibeth a canine friend as well. Embracing her whimsical nature, Lillibeth dubbed her new sidekick Lunatic—affectionately trimmed to Luna.
Notably, Luna's days were often filled with vigor; she was perpetually engaged in lively dashes across the yard or indulging in playful escapades.
Luna, with her ample, exuberant GoldenDoodle frame, carried the weight of loyalty as effortlessly as she did her 75 pounds. Towering at a notable 25 inches, hers was a stature less daunting than Wahya’s, yet no less significant in heart or spirit. She stood, not merely as a guardian but as a cherished companion to John and Lillibeth—a partnership that mirrored the essence of a devoted canine marriage. Her connection with Wahya was a symphony of silent understanding and mutual respect, woven into the fabric of their daily interactions, each one a protector, a friend, a kindred spirit to the other, bound in an unspoken vow of solidarity.
Little did everyone know that this canine couple would play a pivotal role in the upcoming 4th of July events.
