Flying Under the Radar

On a dark night, Miguel and Israfil pedaled their rusty bicycles up the dusty driveway miles from the nearest town. Despite the heat, they both wore long-sleeve t-shirts and pants during the daytime to hide their olive skin tones lest they be recognized as "illegals." Miguel shone his flashlight on the fence and recognized the cat drawing as the vagabond symbol for a "kind woman." Peering further into the darkness, he perceived solar panels juxtaposed with a wooden outhouse and a clothesline.

Karen laughed as she remembered Father Mike's call to serve in the Underground. "You are stubbornly resistant to modern technology, a perfect fit!" She had just received a message via carrier pigeon to expect two hungry and exhausted boys. As she was stirring her famous "Stone Soup" made from whatever she could collect from the forest or garden, she heard a gentle knock that repeated a pattern.. Morse Code.

Karen pushed back her gray bangs, opened the door, and smiled reassuringly, "My name is Karen. You are safe here."

The boys looked a bit puzzled, and she was unsure if they were dazed or had simply heard the name Karen only as a byword. She escorted the boys into her small kitchen. "The name Karen originally meant "pure," and I was named after my Danish grandmother who helped hide Jews from the Nazis- sort of a family tradition."

The boys scanned the room, a scene from a bygone era.. a manual typewriter, paper maps of the area spread across the table, a compass, paper with pens and pencils, a manual pump at the sink, a metal washtub...

"I will feed you and pump water for baths and laundry. There are comfortable mattresses in the back room. But the #1 rule is NO ELECTRONICS..no cellphones, no laptops, nothing traceable!"