The Retreat Page 3

  “It’s the US Government,” Mitch said plainly, “it can’t go broke because it can keep issuing Treasury Bills and printing money. The T-Bill is still the safest investment on the globe and Uncle Sam has never defaulted on a penny of its debt in its history.”

  “You are correct, sir,” Duncan explained. “Think of the government as a family that spends more than it makes; they can keep paying one credit card off using another but eventually both cards get full, then they get a third card and keep making minimum payments on the other two until that one is full. What happens when they apply for a fourth card and every bank says no?”

  “Bankruptcy,” Mitch said, “but the United States can’t just go bankrupt.”

  “It is already heading that way and it is inevitable based on its current trajectory,” Duncan explained. “It already represents 30% of total spending into the economy, so remove that and the economy tanks and the politicians get voted out; keep spending and you go broke. Those are the two options.”

  “So, you are saying the US Government needs to kick everyone off welfare in some form of austerity?” Mitch asked.

  “Yes,” Duncan replied, “and by everyone, I mean everyone. For every one dollar the government spends on social welfare to the poor, it spends four dollars in corporate welfare in the form of tax abatement and tax credits to the rich. 15% of the total annual budget goes to the military yet only 40% of that goes to the troops. For every line soldier there are four rear echelon support troops in the chair warming brigade. The defense contractors get the rest.”

  “So, what is the solution?” Mitch asked.

  “We are almost there,” Duncan said with a smirk. “In every election, especially in a presidential election year, each of the 538 elected members of the government spends over $2 million dollars to get elected to a position that earns roughly $200,000 per year. Why? They want to spend money because with that comes power. This is all about power and to stay in power they need to keep spending. This facility is case and point. The American citizen has given true power to its government and its government has used that power to make the entire country dependent on its government. The people have given up their most important God endowed possession and that is their freedom. Thomas Jefferson had it right.”

  “How do the people restore their freedom?” Mitch asked.

  “We’re here,” Duncan replied.

  Duncan pulled off the road onto a dirt path that was lined with an ornate wrought iron fence until they arrived at an iron gate. Duncan rolled down his window and entered a code and the gate swung open. They continued down a driveway and Mitch saw a large concrete boom truck pumping concrete from two concrete trucks that were pouring concrete into the hopper at the rear of the pump truck. Mitch saw a huge concrete foundation and the crews were installing a massive three-foot-thick rebar reinforced slab over the entire foundation. Mitch followed Duncan over to the superintendent who was poring over a set of blueprints making sure all the penetrations through the slab were accounted for and in the proper place; nobody wanted to miss anything and have to cut or drill through the slab later.

  “Mitch,” Duncan said, waving him over to the superintendent, “this is Mikey. Mikey, meet Mitch.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mitch,” said Mikey, coming forward with his hand extended. “I can’t say I care for the company you keep hanging out with the Scotsman and all but at least he left the skirt at home today.” Mikey was a squat barrel-chested man of about forty, he looked a little like the concrete trucks at the pumping station.

  “Oh, he’s not half bad,” Mitch said. “What exactly am I looking at over there?”

  Mikey turned to Duncan with a question in his eyes and Duncan nodded. “It is the mother of all survival bunkers, Mitch. It is EMP proof, nuclear proof, zombie proof, biological proof and pretty much end of the world proof. You and a family of twelve could live down there comfortably for about five years if you wanted and never come up for air. We are still working on the details on getting it to ten but some of the technology just isn’t there yet. We will be putting an eight thousand square foot custom house on top of the slab and it will be 100% off the Retreat’s grid which will be 100% off grid as it is. If the house stays intact then the owners could survive out here indefinitely. It has rain catchment, food production, energy, a livestock plan and defense capabilities. It is an island on an island surrounded by an oasis.”

  “Defense capabilities?” Mitch asked.

  “Sir, we don’t talk about defense capabilities, especially since this homesite is not integrated into the Retreat’s program but suffice it to say a couple of Girl Scouts could hold off an entire company of elite troops and not leave the comforts of their bunker. This is being custom built for four big tech families out of Seattle and the defense plan is straight out of hunger games meets the maze. It is some crazy stuff but if they can dream it up and write their own software to run it then we will build it, for a nice fee I might add.”

  Mitch thanked Mikey and walked away from the site with his head down. Duncan walked at his side. “We are building retreats for the ultra-wealthy out here?” Mitch finally asked.

  “No, the Seattle families bought this 40-acres of land from you for $20,000 per acre, we will get 20% of the $8 million price tag to build it for them,” Duncan replied.

  “Is that the price for freedom?” Mitch asked innocently.

  “No. These families are buying their security and part of their freedom. The freedom to hide in a hole in the ground. They do not have the ability or knowledge to fight for their freedom but their money allows others the opportunity to do so and truly live free. Without the shelter, these families would be dead in a week if the shit hits the fan so they have us build them a hunting cabin at the edge of the woods where they can come and hide. They are the glamour preppers who think “stuff” and possessions make them prepared. Prepping your skills and mind is much more important than accumulating “stuff.””

  “So, these families are not preppers?” Mitch asked.

  “No. These families will probably use the cabin twice in the first year and once a year for three years after that then never see it again. In the event of a true crisis, they will not be able to get here to go hide in their hole. They are a means to an end. You can put as much cool stuff into a retreat as you want but there are two truisms you can’t avoid and they are: “if you can see it, then you can hit it and if you can hit it then you can kill it.” And: “fixed fortifications are monuments to the stupidity of man,” Duncan explained. “The Retreat can deal with riff raff, marauders and probably a few warlords but it cannot withstand a direct assault from a nation state military. It would be foolish to try. A single B-52 could wipe the entire Retreat off the map in less than thirty seconds. If militaries get involved with us then we cockroach and scurry into the forest. The Viet Cong withstood the greatest military on earth while hiding in an area that was only 35% bigger than the State of Idaho.”

  “So, you are planning to go to war?” Mitch asked.

  “Hopefully not,” Duncan sighed, “but it is the eventual conclusion based on the evidence presented. The iceberg is dead ahead and we are going full steam towards it. Can we swerve or change course, maybe but not likely, so we plan and prepare for contingencies on top of contingencies on top of contingencies.”

  “So, you are saying I had better reserve a 40-acre lot now before they get too pricey?” Mitch asked with a grin.

  “No,” Duncan laughed, “first of all you already own one under the Welcome Center that is bigger, stronger and better than the one you just saw and second, you don’t strike me as the kind of person who can just hide in a hole when they could be doing something. Action is much more proactive than reaction; the aggressor in an engagement almost always wins versus a defender. Go home, objectively look at the government’s books and tell me what you see, then come out here for a couple of weeks and I’ll change your life.”

  Chapter 4

  Mitch’s next quarter
ly visit brought him to the Retreat excited for some time off. Usually for vacation, Mitch just jetted off to some exotic destination and lay on a beach somewhere until he decompressed. Unfortunately, that usually only took him about 48 hours and then he would get antsy and explore the surrounding area for another 48 hours and jet home. He could not tolerate more than four days off before heading back to the office. The market volatility was pretty flatlined and his portfolio was steadily churning out profits. He had a satellite phone in case there was an emergency but other than that he was not expected back for two weeks. Mitch headed to the Retreat and saw even more people crowded into the ground floor open space; it seemed all the downstairs offices and conference rooms were full. There were construction crews in the upstairs loft space as well. Mitch was stunned but the monthly reports sent by Melanie showed profits increasing, in almost dramatic fashion. Duncan was in the center of the room surrounded by a 3D table showing the entire Retreat’s property in miniature version. He looking like the conductor of a large train set. There was a steady line of people bringing him papers, drawings and they were continuously pointing at the model asking for direction. Duncan saw Mitch and waved him toward the conference room where Melanie waited. Once Mitch and Duncan were seated, Melanie started into her usual boardroom spiel. Mitch laughed and said, “Cut to the chase.”

  “Profits are up 12.89% quarter over quarter,” Melanie said with a smile. “The Q4 forecast looks strong and the subsidiary businesses are showing a lot of promise.”

  “Hold on here,” Mitch interjected, “exactly how many businesses do we own here?”

  Duncan replied, “Only one and that is the construction company set up in a separate LLC; we are invested in five others. We do have warrants to convert the investment into equity should we choose to do so at a later date.”

  “Then who are all those people out there?” Mitch asked.

  “They are all subcontractors and we lease them office space,” Duncan replied. “The Retreat Trading Company LLC only has eight employees and three of them are in this room; Melanie has five support staff members working for her. Mikey runs the construction company and it does not have any debt on the books.”

  Mitch thumbed through the financials but they were clean and he could navigate pretty easily through the profit and loss statements, income statements and balance sheet. Mitch was used to tearing apart billion-dollar conglomerates’ financials so the ones in front of him only took minutes.

  “Ok then,” Mitch said with a sigh, “what do we have on tap for the day?”

  “Product testing and familiarization,” Duncan said with a straight face. “Come with me and we’ll get geared up.”

  Duncan took Mitch toward one of the downstairs rear offices where there was a changing room with a wall of open-faced changing stations like a pro sports team locker room. One of them said “Mitch” over it. Hung inside was a full set of camouflage gear including underwear and socks, footgear and a backpack. Mitch was stunned that everything fit perfectly. “How did you get my size?” Mitch asked, looking over at Duncan who was finishing getting dressed.

  “Melanie called your personal assistant who called your personal shopper who double checked with your laundry service and custom tailor. I did not even know they made custom underwear but I guess if you have an abnormally small willy like you then they need to take your shorts in a bit,” Duncan said with a laugh.

  “I guess that’s why the Romans built Hadrian’s Wall, probably to keep all the funny men like you locked up in Scotland,” Mitch shot back with a smile. Mitch was finally all buttoned up and said, “Lead on, McDuff.”

  Duncan took Mitch over to what looked like a firing range. Mitch had been to a few over the years for corporate retreats and considered himself a decent shot; he could always break a couple of clay pigeons on the trap range whenever a client took him to one to schmooze. The range was quiet even though there were a few people doing target practice. Duncan nodded to them as he headed to the armorer’s cage. Mitch noticed that the people on the range were all shooting suppressed AR-15 style rifles and suppressed handguns. Duncan turned to Mitch and asked, “What are the four rules of handling a gun?”

  Mitch answered automatically, “Treat every gun as if it is loaded, don’t point your gun at anything unless you mean to kill it, know your target and what is beyond it and keep your finger off the trigger until you are ready to fire.”

  “Good enough,” Duncan said. “This is your rifle, it is not a piece, thing or gun. The safety is here, the magazine goes here and this is the charging handle. You put the rounds in the magazine like this. You are on lane one, targets are on the wall. Pin the target up and hit the black button until you feel comfortable you can hit the paper. Your rifle is zeroed to 200 yards and the range is hot.”

  Mitch grabbed the rifle. Mitch knew the armorer and Duncan were watching him closely so he was very careful with his muzzle discipline and followed all the range rules he had been shown in the past. He put his rifle on the table in front of lane one, opened the breach and tried to keep it open but it would not stay open until he found the catch. Once he found it, he turned and stuck his tongue out at Duncan and the armorer, grabbed a target and sent it out to 100 yards. He picked up his rifle, inserted the magazine and charged the weapon. The strap on the rifle was in the way so he just palmed it under the barrel. Mitch flipped off the safety and sighted through the ACOG red dot receptacle. He waited until he had a good site picture and pulled the trigger. Oh shit! Mitch thought to himself as the muzzle on the rifle climbed and rounds kept spewing from the suppressor. Fortunately, he kept the muzzle downrange. Duncan and the armorer looked on in mirth. Duncan stepped forward, turned Mitch toward the target in a proper stance, showed him how to wrap the strap around his forearm and showed him the safety and fire selector switch. Mitch reloaded a magazine, selected single shot and began plinking at his target while trying to control his breathing as some high-priced instructor had tried to show him. Usually, he had to sit on a bench to fire a rifle and always had sandbags to rest his rifle stock and barrel on. He fired another couple of 25 round magazines until he felt comfortable with target acquisition and site picture. Duncan handed him a handgun, demonstrated its operation and Mitch took the handgun and pointed it down range. Duncan stepped forward before Mitch could pull the trigger while shaking his head. “If you had pulled that trigger you would have not felt your thumb for a week. Both thumbs forward like this,” and demonstrated. While Mitch was plinking with the nine-millimeter, Duncan came over and gave him a thigh holster to thread through his belt and clip around his thigh. He showed Mitch how to put on his pack and shoulder his rifle.

  “OK, grasshopper, it’s time to go for a walk,” Duncan said just as Melanie came into the range with identical kit to Duncan’s including what looked like a bullet proof vest festooned with extra magazines and other pouches. She had an earpiece in her ear and a camouflage boonie hat on her head holding up her long blond hair.

  “Are you coming with us, Melanie?” Mitch asked with a smile and a twinkle in his eye.

  “Yes,” she replied. “This is some form of extended board meeting so Duncan asked me along to take notes and such. I try to get in the woods every week but we’ve been a little busy lately. Duncan says I need to let go and trust my people more but Mr. honk and floor it over there, followed by his usual, Look Ma No Hands approach to decisions keeps me on my toes keeping the group coloring inside the lines. At least if I’m here with him he can’t go rogue behind my back without me noticing.”

  “Do I need one of those vests?” Mitch asked Melanie.

  “Need and want are often two different things. No, you don’t need one and no, you don’t want one. Your pack is 35.3 pounds fully loaded and the plate carrier is another 22 pounds. Add the rounds, blow out bag, radio and goodies it weighs in at a total of an additional 35.6 pounds,” Melanie responded. “Two things to burn into your mind; ounces equal pounds and pounds equal pain.”

  “Where ar
e we going?” Mitch asked.

  “It looks like a perimeter walk about. The security truck is here so we’ll probably hitch a ride to nearer the fence. It’s noon now so Duncan probably wants to save you the six-mile hump across the property to get past the fence line before dark,” Melanie replied.

  “We’re camping?” Mitch asked. “What’s in the pack?”

  “You should know, Mitch,” Melanie laughed. “You make a $5 royalty for every one of these three-day emergency packs that get sold on top of a 6.5% return on the $400,000 initial startup funds for inventory, tooling, payroll and tenant improvements. You have leased them their space on the property and the business owners are under contract to purchase a house from you. The owners currently have sales of 35 packs a month retailing at $145 with a total cost of goods of $52 including overhead and royalties. They are ramping up their current production to match supply but are only shipping 19 units a month at this time. We project sales closer to 100 a month based on a modest marketing budget but want to get the production and supply kinks out of the way, including product testing before stepping on the gas. Branding, feedback and quality control are crucial to our buyer demographic so we are making sure to get it right. So it is a 12…”

  “12.34% ROI,” Mitch interjected.

  “12.35%, Mitch,” Melanie replied. “The fifth decimal point rounds the others up.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” Mitch asked with a smile.

  “I never kid about money, Mitch,” Melanie said with a deadpan look.

  “OK then, Melanie, other than 12.35% ROI, what’s in the bag?” Mitch laughed.

  “No clue,” Melanie replied with a laugh. “A three-day pack is what preppers call a bug out bag. It is like training wheels for preppers or prepper 101. Every prepper debates ad nauseum what should be in the “perfect” bug out bag but it’s all hooey. Stuff doesn’t replace knowledge; it should just complement it and make tasks easier and more productive by enhancing your chances at survival.”