“Then why are we investing in bug out bag production?” Mitch asked.
“There are a lot of wannabe preppers out there, Mitch. True preppers already know what they need, have trained in the use of the products they carry and have fine-tuned them for the environment they are in. We are selling a quality product with quality tools that could save someone’s life. We can lead a horse to water but we can’t make them drink. The wannabes help fund the real ones, it is a mantra around here. Prepping is a lifestyle and not a destination, it does not know socio economic class, it is a mindset of a journey towards independence, security and ultimately, freedom.”
“I have all those things already,” Mitch declared.
“Sorry, Mitch, you have none of them,” Melanie laughed condescendingly. “You have the illusion of all three; you are a sheeple.”
“A sheeple?” Mitch asked.
Just then Duncan came over saying, “Baaah. Hop in the back of the truck, we’ll head over to the fence line and try out our investments.” The security truck took the logging road toward the outer property line and dropped them off within sight of a cattle gate. The three hikers made their way to the cattle gate that was flanked by three strands of barbed wire that continued around the property line. Duncan produced a key and opened a padlock that secured the gate and ushered Mitch and Melanie through the gate and doffed his cap and bowed with aplomb as they walked through. Duncan relocked the gate and started in the lead up the trail on the other side. The three were immediately stopped by two US Fish and Wildlife officers who were on the trail ahead of them with high powered binoculars around their necks. The two were wearing matching uniforms of tan windbreakers and tan baseball hats. They were both fairly athletic looking but lacked the requisite tans of people who spent their lives outdoors.
“Good afternoon, officers,” Duncan said as he deliberately walked right past the officers as did Melanie. One of the officers put up his hand in a stop position as Mitch followed Melanie in line.
“Excuse me, sir,” the officer said to Mitch. “I am going to need to see some ID.”
Mitch started patting his pockets trying to remember which pocket his wallet was located in. While he was looking, the other officer in a friendly manner asked Mitch if was going hunting. At this point, Melanie stepped forward and said, “Mitch, do not say a word and you do not have to produce identification.” Melanie turned to the two officers and said, “This man is represented by counsel and I have advised him to remain silent.”
“Excuse me, ma’am,” the other officer said, “we are conducting an investigation and you are obstructing us in performing that investigation. We have credible information that there is illegal firearm use and hunting happening on this property.”
“OK, gentlemen, fun time is over. If you had credible information enough to convince a friendly judge to sign a warrant to search the property then you would not be here fishing for information. I have advised my client to remain silent so he is either being detained or he is free to go. Which is it?” Melanie said.
“Ma’am, this gentleman is being detained for questioning while we investigate a reported crime. We can do that here or back at the station, it’s your choice,” the officer said.
“OK then, gentlemen, I guess we are going through door number two. Will you both please provide me with your identification credentials?” Melanie asked politely.
“What do you need those for?” the officer asked.
“You have detained my client and are therefore required to produce your badges of office for inspection, unless of course you are not sworn peace officers but I did notice your sidearms. You know the rules, gentlemen; give them up because impersonating a federal officer is a felony,” Melanie demanded. The two officers reluctantly tried to flash their badges at Melanie. “Inspection, gentlemen, please hand them over or hold them out for inspection.” The two officers complied while Melanie spoke their credential badge names and numbers into the microphone clipped to the shoulder of her plate carrier. She then said, “File it now, charges one and three and send me the paperwork to Alpha Tango Foxtrot niner two three, over…Copy that…three out.” Melanie looked back at the officers and said, “Please continue, gentlemen.”
The two officers kept asking questions of Mitch while Mitch answered each one with, “Under the advice of counsel I am declining to answer your question.” One of the questions was, “Do you think the sky is blue?” Eventually they all heard a buzzing noise and Duncan, who was sitting quietly, walked back to the cattle gate where a drone flew down with two envelopes slung under it. Duncan reached up and grabbed the two envelopes, talked into his microphone and the drone flew away as fast as it had arrived. Duncan silently walked up to Melanie and gave Mitch a wink. Melanie looked at the front of each envelope and handed one to each officer saying, “Officer Lindley, you have been served and Officer Young, you have been served.”
“What the hell is this?” the officers asked as they opened the letters.
“It is a subpoena to appear in federal court for a probable cause hearing and a civil rights suit suing both the Federal Government and you personally for infringing on my client’s civil rights. I am not your lawyer but I suggest you seek outside counsel at the hearing since the government will not hesitate to throw you both under the bus,” Melanie said.
“This is bullshit!” one of the officers exclaimed.
“Gentlemen, the law is both a sword and a shield for its citizens. Would you like to go for the trifecta of false arrest and imprisonment or are we free to go?” Melanie asked with a smile.
“You can go but we’ll be back,” the officers threatened.
“I’m afraid not, gentlemen. I don’t know if the government will be back but you two will be retired or counting seals in Alaska once I get through with you,” Melanie said and turned her back on them, following Duncan moving up a different trail. Mitch followed with his mouth open and a dumbfounded look on his face. He had never heard anyone speak to a police officer that way before. The trio heard two ATVs start up and speed up in the opposite direction but before they were out of earshot the ATV motors quit. They heard a lot of swearing and the sounds of two ATVs turning over their engines trying to start. When they were out of range of the two officers, Mitch turned to Melanie and asked, “What the hell was that?”
“Sorry, Mitch, I didn’t have time to explain. The average American violates eight to nine legal statutes a day without even knowing it. Those officers wanted access to the Retreat because they do not know what is going on there. The government fears what it can’t control. There is absolutely nothing illegal going on at the Retreat, trust me, I audit it daily but you have a fundamental presumed right of innocence not the necessity to prove your innocence, unless you are charged with a crime. It is hard to disprove a negative so it is better to say nothing and let them see nothing without proper legal cause,” Melanie explained.
“I have nothing to hide,” Mitch whined. “I could have just shown them that there was nothing to see here and we could have been on our way; now the government is going to think we have something to hide and come after us.”
Melanie and Duncan just turned to Mitch and said, “Baaaah.”
The three of them continued their hike until the sun started to set. Mitch was wheezing with the effort and his feet were sore in the new boots. He figured they had come about ten miles but he was determined not to fall behind, especially since Melanie did not even appear winded and she was carrying twice the weight he was. His male ego was not going to take a hard fall. Duncan finally stopped at a small glade next to a large creek for their campsite. Duncan and Melanie had a quick game of rock paper scissors and Duncan hung his head for a second and walked out into the woods. Mitch asked where he was going. “One mile loop reconnaissance,” Melanie replied. “He is also responsible for perimeter defense set up.”
“Where do I go?” Mitch asked.
“Anywhere around here will work. If you have to go to the bathroom then
you need to walk out at least 300 feet from the creek or roughly 100 paces. For number two, dig a hole at least a foot deep,” Melanie said while she emptied her pack on the ground in front of her and surveyed the contents of her pack, spreading it out and organizing it like a puzzle. She then grabbed a small trowel gardening shovel combination and began digging a hole, stacking the sod and soil to one side. After her excavation she started picking up rocks from around the creek bed and stacked them vertically around the pit using soil as necessary to fill in any gaps.
“Can I help?” Mitch asked.
“We need dry firewood please, Mitch, nothing bigger than two inches around. Don’t forget your rifle, it will cost you ten miles and a bottle of scotch if it is ever found more than six feet away from you if we are outside the wire like we are now. For the love of god don’t fire it or point it at anything unless you are expressly told to do so. I’ll show you how to clean it after dinner and save you another bottle of scotch for turning in a dirty rifle,” Melanie said.
“Who made these rules?” Mitch asked.
“You did, Mitch; it was in the package of LLC documents and financials you sent back last month,” Melanie said.
“Hang on a second,” Mitch demanded. “You sent me one of your two-inch thick packages of crap to review and sign next to the little sticky arrows and somewhere in there it says I owe a bottle of scotch for turning in a dirty rifle?”
“Yes,” Melanie replied. “Page 63, section 7.5, subparagraph 9.”
“You told me everything was in order and I was OK signing the thing,” Mitch complained.
“Yes, I did,” Melanie replied. “I have a fiduciary responsibility to both the LLC and its members to not place them in any legal jeopardy, look out for and act in their best interests and a professional ethics responsibility to not do anything illegal on their behalf.”
“You should have told me,” Mitch said accusingly.
“I just did,” Melanie laughed. “I have now warned you about a potential liability that you face prior to you potentially committing said liability.”
“Melanie, do you really think I care about the price of a bottle of scotch?” Mitch asked with a twinkle in his eye.
“I’ve seen your financial disclosure, Mitch and I’m well aware of your net worth,” Melanie said with a snicker, “but I can assure you that you will deeply care about what a bottle of scotch is worth, not what it costs.”
“You two are bat shit crazy, you know?” Mitch said. “We are out here in the middle of nowhere, probably east of the middle of nowhere while playing soldier and dodging the Federal Government who you think is out to get you. My feet are tired, my shoulder hurts from this damn rifle strap, I’m hungry and I’m getting my ass kicked by a girl and a Scotsman.”
“Poor little sheeple, can I get you some cheese to go with that whine? These skills and disciplines you are learning will probably save your life someday and I bet you have not thought about your portfolio and hedge fund all day. Guess what, you won’t think about it tomorrow or the day after that. The competition drives you and the money is the only scorecard you have to measure your worth versus your competitors. Out here we compete to be the apex predators to gain our complete autonomy and freedom. You think you have freedom but take away your portfolio, money and prestige and what do you have?”
“What do you have?” Mitch asked.
“Peace of mind, Mitch and the skills to survive and thrive in any environment, including this one. I was blessed with a brain and I can use it to run in the rat race to get to the top of the dung heap or I can use it to live life on my terms in complete freedom to do as I choose,” Melanie said. “I choose this.”
Duncan came strolling into the small glen and shed his pack, dumping it on the ground and spilling out its contents like Melanie had done. “What’s for dinner?” Duncan asked.
“Looks like that Wise crap again,” Melanie complained. “That stuff gives me the trots after a few days of eating it. Why did you let them put that crap in these bags?”
“It is the cheapest per calorie and nobody who would buy this bag would know the difference or care. We needed three days’ worth and there was no ROI on calories,” Duncan said with disdain while spelling out ROI.
“Did you get us some rabbits, eggs or salad?” Melanie asked.
“We are test driving the product, Mel,” Duncan said while turning to Mitch and circling his ear with his index finger. “It would be insincere if we did not try everything in the bag.”
“Did you at least stash a little tabasco sauce in your bag?” Melanie asked.
“Now, Mel, we need to keep the experiment untainted,” Duncan said.
“Really! No person has ever gone into the bush without a bottle of hot sauce; it is the only thing that makes this crap or MREs edible,” Melanie pouted.
“It would decrease the ROI, Mel, if we included hot sauce in the bag and you know how important ROI is,” Duncan said sarcastically. “It is your fault there is no hot sauce in the bag and you know it, so suck it up princess and get the water boiling.”
“Asshat,” Melanie said, “the little pooper scooper worked pretty well but I think a serrated edge would help. We don’t have to film the promos for this, do we?”
“No, we’ll get the logging crew guy to do those, he needs the extra cash and he looks genuine and can talk the talk. We get a five-point SPIF, Mitch, for every bag we sell through our website and a nickel for every Youtube click we generate,” Duncan explained. “It will help down the line with cross promotions. I did tell Mel the bag was a lost leader but she won’t even consider anything without a 12-point margin so she can suffer a little bit. You do realize that the bag of food you are about to eat has, by our calculations, the biggest ROI in the bag, at 42%? These guys are selling crap in a bag and all the glampers and garage preppers can’t get enough of it. Classic company run by ROI gear heads but they are killing it.”
The three of them enjoyed their meals talking about their families, where they were from, the various jobs they’d had, their taste in music until the sun went completely down and it started to get dark. Mel and Duncan shared a look and did another round of rock paper scissors. Melanie flipped Duncan the bird and started getting her gear in order and packed in the appropriate order. She turned and held up three fingers, looking at Mitch with a question in her eyes. Duncan shook his head and flashed two fingers up. Duncan then put out the fire and filled in the hole and gestured Mitch to come closer and whispered, “Find somewhere with cover to bunk down in, no talking after dark and we’ll see you in the morning. Keep your firearms close but do not touch them under any circumstances.” Duncan then scampered silently into the woods like a ghost.
Chapter 5
Mitch awoke with a start. Someone had a boot on his chest and a rifle pointed at his head. The barrel of the rifle looked like it was a full two inches across as Mitch looked at it cross eyed. Mitch was sure he was going to die. The person holding the gun was clad in some sort of bushy camouflage with sticks and moss growing out of it. His face was covered in grease paint.
“Your dead strap, now be a good boy and quietly put on your boots and come with me,” this was said in a quiet whisper. Mitch scrambled to put on his boots while his captor relieved him of his handgun, knife and rifle and marched him into the glen. There was another bushy-looking guy with face paint holding Melanie at knifepoint and Mitch saw a third about a dozen paces away poking his gun into a sleeping bag saying, “You’re dead, you ugly Scotsman.” The gunman pushed a little more into the sleeping bag and said, “Shit, he’s not here.”
“I’m up here you cockroaches and you are all dead,” Duncan said from up in the tree above his decoy sleeping bag. “Good lord, I heard you twenty minutes ago and I was asleep, Mikey.”
“Mikey!” Mitch turned on his captor. “You’re an asshole, I almost crapped my pants back there.”
“Sorry, Mitch, we figured with you along we might have a shot at the bounties. Melanie is worth five
cases of scotch and Duncan is worth twelve. We had to chance it. I thought they would have explained the rules outside the wire. I figured with getting the drop on Melanie on watch then we would have a chance,” said Mikey apologetically.
“You didn’t get the drop on me, you tick turd, Mikey. I smelled you guys almost an hour ago; one of you stinks like garlic and the other like onions. What possibly possessed you to approach from upwind?” Melanie asked. “I already saw Duncan go up the tree and I was awake anyway so I figured I’d rather see the looks on your faces when you grabbed defeat straight from the jaws of victory. You know where to drop off the winnings and enjoy your run in the dark. I suppose you could walk but you have to make breakfast and clean the dishes. It’s your call.”
“Hey, we had to deal with Ranger Rick and Barney Fife back at the gate and shadow them out after sneaking a little sugar and dirt in their gas tanks. They had some choice words about you, Melanie, on their long-walk through purgatory. They even managed to get lost once out there; imagine a couple of game wardens getting lost in the woods. We were already geared up so we figured we’d take a run at the champs,” Mikey explained.
“OK, walk then and no breakfast,” Duncan added.
“We were actually hoping you would share; we’ll make it, we had to run to catch tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb and didn’t figure on the detour so were going to scrounge something up on the way back,” Mikey asked.
“Well, well, well, Mikey, looks like you are another bottle down for not having a fully loaded go bag with a full three day load out. I can’t believe you just confessed. All we are allowed to eat is the Wise crap on this trip. Are you sure you want some?” Melanie teased.
Duncan stepped in and tossed Mikey a couple of dead rabbits. “Here you go, Mikey but you’re processing them. I grabbed them last night on watch but you have to use the frypan in the kit, I want to see how it handles the load.”
The Retreat Page 4
