Page 63 of Beyond Redemption

Naomi looked up at him and he straightened his posture, looking straight ahead.

“It’s a bunker,” she said, returning her gaze to mine. “The code is 675-209-90, and yes, you should head there at the first sign of activity at the gate. Everything you need is already there.”

“Good, thank you.”

Bodhi began to sit, but Naomi shot him a glare. “You’re mine now, recruit. You sit when you’re told to sit.”

He stood. “Shit, sorry.”

“Aye, ma’am,” she corrected.

“Aye, ma’am.”

Olive seemed more and more uncomfortable with their every interaction.

“Would you mind if I took a look? We’ll need diapers, wipes, and anything else to prepare for the possibility of an extended stay, even if it’s one we don’t anticipate needing.”

Amusement flickered across Naomi’s expression. “It’s not a cave, you know.”

I lifted a brow. “No?”

“This is my father you’re talking about. It’s a full-scale underground facility.”

Zeke leaned against the wall, arms crossing. “The General’s been expanding it for years. Everything you need is down there and ready. It’s cleaned and restocked regularly.”

“What exactly can we expect?” I asked.

Naomi’s gaze moved briefly to Olive and Bodhi before returning to me. “Large enough to hold every family here and sustain them for years. An interior blast door that’s essentially impenetrable, but if it’s not, there’s a back exit leading to tunnels that run for nearly a mile and pop up west of the compound, near a two-lane highway for easy evac.”

“Define large enough, just for my peace of mind,” I said.

“Enough for transport and utility. There’s designated living space, medical, storage. It’s stocked for long-term use.”

“How long?”

“Three years.”

Olive straightened. “Three?”

Naomi nodded. “Food, water, medical supplies, child and infant care. It was built with families in mind.”

“There’s a playground,” Zeke added. “Not identical, and smaller, but close enough.”

Bodhi let out a quiet breath. “Underground.”

Naomi turned to him. “Did I say you could talk?”

He straightened. “Sorry. Sorry, ma’am. I mean, no, ma’am.”

I tried to imagine something of that scale in my mind, mapping what she was describing against what I’d seen. It didn’t seem possible, but then again, this was Marcel. Preparation was his baseline, not his ceiling, and funding didn’t seem to be a constraint.

“Single entry?”

“And a secondary exit,” Naomi said.

“It holds under pressure?”

“It holds,” she said. “Against a nuke if they bring one.”