The hum of solar generators, the echo of tools finishing the last assemblies, and the breeze fluttering the newly raised flags on the outer walls announced the impossible: the bastion was complete.
Rob stood atop a high platform, overlooking the valley.A subterranean citadel, invisible to most, protected by natural hills, surrounded by forests, powered by the sun, the wind, and deep wells of crystal-clear water.
A fortress of steel, concrete, and hope.In just three grueling months of work, they had achieved it.
Thanks to unlimited capital, flawless logistics, and collective determination, they had erected the greatest civilian resistance project in the entire region.
The bastion featured:
State-of-the-art secure living quarters.
Medical labs, workshops, internal schools.
Hydroponic farms, livestock facilities, food reserves for decades.
Active and passive defense systems.
Satellite-encrypted communications.
Every module, every installation had been designed to withstand historic earthquakes, external attacks, and even extended periods of isolation.
It was more than a base.It was a beacon of survival.
Rob's family, his closest friends, and now dozens of carefully selected people gathered in the central plaza to celebrate the achievement.
Rob, simply but impeccably dressed, stepped onto a small improvised stage while children played around and adults chatted with relieved smiles.
The fresh breeze stirred his black hair as he gripped the microphone.
Clearing his throat, he began to speak.
—"Today,"—Rob said, his deep voice filling the valley—"we celebrate something few will ever see: the fruit of effort, faith, and the will to protect what we love."
The murmurs ceased.
Everyone watched, attentive.
—"Here, under these mountains, we have built not just a shelter. We have built a home. A symbol. A promise that no matter what happens out there... we will endure. We will move forward."
His words resonated in the air.
—"I thank each and every one of you. Those who left behind their jobs, their comforts, their former lives. Those who rolled up their sleeves, sweated, and believed. This bastion is not mine. It belongs to all of us. And when the day comes—because it will come—when the world changes forever… we will be the light that guides through the darkness."
Many eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
Victoria, standing with the children, gripped Amélie's tiny hand tightly.
Alan, beside his wife Beba, nodded seriously, holding his children close.
—"This is our new life. Our new hope. Our future."
There was a spontaneous applause, followed by another, and soon the valley rumbled with cheers and embraces.
Rob took a deep breath.The first step was complete.
The following weeks were a time of transition.
Each family sold or abandoned their old properties. Discreet caravans were organized to transport belongings, memories, and essential materials.
It was a hard process.
Every packed photo, every piece of furniture left behind, was a small farewell.
For many adults, it meant leaving behind decades of life.For the children, it was an exciting but confusing adventure.
The first weeks in the bastion were not easy:
- New training and education routines were established.
- Maintenance and farming shifts were assigned.
- Security, health, and logistics committees were formed.
At first, tensions arose.
Some missed the individual freedoms of urban life. Others felt nostalgic for childhood homes, parks, familiar neighborhoods.
But little by little, the community began to flourish.
Family activities were organized, internal sports tournaments, and impromptu movie nights under the stars.
The bonds grew stronger.
Watching everything, Rob felt a knot of pride and melancholy in his chest.
They had sacrificed their former lives.
But in return, they had gained a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
When only a few weeks of adaptation to the bastion had passed, the news hit like thunder.
It was a seemingly normal morning.
Rob was overseeing the installation of new communication systems when Alan, pale, burst into the control room holding a shaking tablet.
—"You need to see this,"—he said simply.
Rob approached.
News screens, both national and international, repeated the same headline:
"Mass Disappearance in the Bermuda Triangle: dozens of ships and planes reported missing in an unprecedented phenomenon."
The world was in shock.
Massive cargo ships had simply vanished from radar.
Entire passenger planes, flying standard commercial routes, disappeared without a trace.
Rescue teams sent to investigate also lost communication.
Governments involved (United States, Bahamas, Bermuda) declared states of emergency over their maritime and air zones.
Flights and naval operations were suspended across wide regions.
Scientists, media outlets, and experts on natural phenomena speculated endlessly:
An unprecedented geomagnetic storm?
Gravitational anomalies?
Technological attacks?
No one had answers.
But Rob did.
Or at least, he had a feeling.
This was no mere meteorological coincidence.
It was the first visible crack.
The very structure of the world, of the natural laws, was beginning to fracture.
The apocalypse he remembered... had begun.
Rob immediately summoned the entire community to the main assembly hall.
Standing on the stage, his face was a mask of tense serenity.
—"I know you've all seen the news,"—he began, his voice firm but compassionate—"I know you have questions, fears... uncertainty. And I won't lie to you: this is only the beginning."
There were murmurs, tense faces, mothers clutching their children.
—"But I also know something else,"—Rob added, raising his voice—"we prepared for this moment. We chose to build, to unite, and to strengthen our bonds to face whatever comes."
He took a moment, scanning each of their faces.
—"No matter what the world faces out there. Here, in this bastion, we will endure. Not just surviving… but living, protecting, fighting if necessary."
A heavy silence fell over the hall.
And then, like a spark igniting a powder keg, someone began to applaud.
Another joined. Then another.
Within seconds, the hall roared with applause, cheers, and cries of encouragement.
Rob closed his eyes for a moment.
He felt the weight of his responsibility.
But he also felt the strength of his community.
They were not alone.
They would not face the end as victims.
They would rise as a bastion.As a beacon.As a family.
That night, from the observation platform, Rob gazed at the starry sky.
Victoria approached silently, wrapping Amélie in a blanket while Matthew and Nicolás played nearby.
—"Do you think we'll be ready?"—she asked quietly.
Rob didn't answer immediately.
He looked at the almost full moon, outlined against the vast blackness.
—"I don't know,"—he finally said, with brutal honesty—"But I know we won't give up. Not this time."
She smiled softly and rested her head on his shoulder.
Beneath the stars, as the outer world began to crumble, the bastion stood firm.
The storm was coming.
But so were they.
And they were ready to fight for their place in eternity.