Azaleas Don't Bloom Here

by Frank Klus

  “Keep going, you guys,” Ray said from behind. They were slowing down. Eugene couldn’t sense it. He was going as fast as he could, but his body couldn’t take it anymore. It wasn’t a straight line they were running. They were dodging trees, bushes, and low tree limbs. They were stumbling, falling; and still they pushed on. They hadn’t heard any gunshots for a while. Now they figured they’d gone another mile.

  Another limb raked Eugene across the face. He could taste the pine needles in his mouth as he spit them out. He slapped the next branch away only for the ricochet to hit him in the head. Sandy occasionally let out a cry as she was repeatedly slapped by some conifer. Eugene could see her tiring red face panting for breath.

  “Two miles to the border,” everyone heard Chad say.

  Then Sandy fell. “I can’t go on,” she uttered. Eugene was doubled over as well. Everyone stopped. The Blues waited and listened for the sound of the enemy. There was silence.

  “Captain Mueller, it’s Olin. I can’t find them.”

  “Olin, where do you think they went? Come on, man, you’re a nine year veteran, a brigade commander. What would you do if you were Armstrong?”

  “I thought he and his crew would climb some trees and blend in. We kept looking up, but so far, nothing. We don’t even hear a bird or an animal.”

  “Remember, Olin, he’s got civilians with him. He can only move as fast as they can. They’ve got to be nearby. Fire a few rounds to the south. That’s where they’re most likely to be. Try to draw fire from them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How’s your ammo holding out?”

  “We brought plenty, Captain.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  Olin gave the command. They flared out some more and each man was to fire off a dozen rounds into the woods. Then, silence. No return fire. “Again, men.” They fired off another dozen rounds. No return fire.

  Olin reported in again. “Nothing, sir. They didn’t return fire.”

  “Keep moving south and west. We must stop them. You want to spend some of that million dollar bounty, don’t you, Olin?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then move it.”

  The Pilgrims could hear the gunfire from the north woods. Wrenn heard one of their rounds ricochet off a tree behind him, but he didn’t believe he was spotted. Just a stray bullet, he thought. “Get moving, everyone,” Armstrong said, trying to be quiet, yet forceful. The group was running as fast as they could now, and estimated they were about a mile and a half from the border. Gunfire was heard from behind them. It was what Armstrong feared the most. Enemy reinforcements were coming up from the east. They were still behind them, but exhausted as they were, they were too scared now to stop running.

  “Olin,” Mueller said. “Brigade Commander Kostroma just radioed me. He’d been driving up the road when he heard voices from the trees. He fired into them, but got no response. They’re in pursuit now.”

  “So they crossed over into the south woods, Captain?”

  “That’s affirmative. Get all your men to the road. Run west to get ahead of them and cut them off.”

  The Pilgrims thought they got a break. There was a bit of a clearing ahead. They could see that the woods were thinning. They continued to run. Eugene and Sandy were down to a light jog now, and even the Blues were huffing it.

  A mile to go. Got to keep going, thought Eugene. His mind kept wandering. He thought of Dennis again. How can he do this to me? We were best friends. Why did he change? Could he have…? He couldn’t or wouldn’t finish that thought. He wanted to remember his friend the way he was. That time we played space people by the drainage ditch that became a shopping center a few years later, and then the anchor left. A few years later all the shops closed down. Then the town went under. Only a few stayed behind. They couldn’t or didn’t want to leave. Pamela was right. My world died and their ghosts are chasing me now.

  Eugene felt like he couldn’t go on. His body rebelled to the point where he felt his legs had turned to lead. A wandering mind helped him deal with the pain from running and the fear of being killed. I have to get to the other side now. I feel it in my bones. There is no life here anymore. It was the first time I could truly realize it. Old America is dead; gone. We went from a productive economy where everyone made money to an economy where only a few people could. Then to an economy that tried to preserve capital by cutting expenses—just a fancy way of saying they preserved profits by robbing people of their money. Then they started running government like a business. They did the same thing to their constituents. Preserve capital—cut expenses. Get rid of welfare, minimum wage, government regulations—promote freedom. Freedom for whom? They legalized drugs, gambling, and prostitution. Business demanded it. Freedom for business. But what freedom were they left with? A shrinking customer base. Squeeze more out of them? That was the freedom. Then if someone decides to steal your wife; if someone else attempts to recruit you into their cause…. Oh stop this, Gene. You’d be doing this one day no matter what.

  Eugene was thoroughly exhausted. He felt like he could barely move now. Somehow we morphed into a totalitarian system and no one knows. No one knows because we still have a democratic structure—elections, president, legislature, courts, etc. but it isn’t real anymore. This so-called lobbying outfit—NOGOV—runs the government—and they don’t just stop there. They run everything: the schools, the media, the police, and the courts. They convince everyone that this is the best of all possible worlds. Wasn’t that what Leibnitz said? Because God could control the world any outcome was always the best. Does NOGOV think it’s God?

  The pain was getting worse now. Still, he wanted his mind to wander. The brain probe. That was the final solution when the media, the schools, the law, the government wasn’t enough to convince you of the new right and wrong, they’d just strap you to a chair and change your head. Christ. It’s not so dissimilar to the Nazi final solution—no gas chambers, just the brain probe.

  Kostroma radioed Olin. “I think I hear them. You’ve got to get ahead of them. They’re less than a mile from the border.”

  “Okay, Kostroma, I’m glad you got here. They’re out of my sight. We’re at the road now, and we’re double-timing it westward. Get them to fire back, if you can, so we can get a fix on them.”

  “We’re still out of range. They keep moving. You can move faster if you’re on the road. Get as close to the border fence as you can, and then move into the south woods.”

  “Okay, we’ll try to move faster.”

  As the Pilgrims reached the thinned out area, they noticed a hiking trail going west. Armstrong thought this was a terrific break since they were getting close to the border, and the trail would allow them to make better time. But then two things went wrong. First, the trail curved around south and the woods thickened again, and then they heard gunfire from behind them. Armstrong figured it was about two hundred yards.

  “Blues,” Armstrong said, speaking to his sharpshooters, and Ray and Cassandra. “Stay behind Eugene and Sandy to protect them. Shoot only at what you can see, but keep running.”

  “Maybe we should split up and hide behind trees,” Foote said. “Then we can pick them off.”

  “Only if it’s our only option,” Armstrong said.

  “He’s right,” Ray said to Terry. “We don’t know how many there are, and it would expose Gene and Sandy. I think we should head back north by northwest, toward the road. The pursuers might be shooting at phantoms that way.”

  “Good idea, Ray,” Armstrong said.

  The plan seemed to be working, since the continued gunfire seemed to be toward the left of them; then the next bad break came. They began hearing gunshots from the road and behind them. They couldn’t go back to the road. It must be the original pursuers, thought Armstrong. Then he whispered, “Stay off the road. Go west.”

  Sandy went down. Eugene’s heart almost stopped, but she only tripped. She got up with his assistance, and they continued to run. Suddenly Sand
y and Gene stopped as they saw the grass moving in front of them like a snake was racing through it. Wrenn caught up to them and said it was gunfire. “Keep moving,” he repeated. Everyone was panting now. It got so loud Chad was afraid their pursuers would pick up on them. Maybe they already had.

  “Olin, it’s Kostroma. I heard them. They’re about a half klick from you, maybe less.”

  “We’re running up behind them as fast as possible.”

  “You shouldn’t have fired. They would have come out to the road. Now, my guess is they’ll stay where they are. We’ll try to outflank them and force them to the road.”

  Eugene fell. Armstrong figured he’d tripped since there wasn’t any more shooting, but it was exhaustion. This time Sandy was there to offer encouragement. Gene got up, but their pace was too slow. The Blues knew it, but no one was going to say anything. The journey was simply too long. Armstrong estimated they were only about a third of a mile from safety, but even a third of a mile was too far when you felt like your heart was about to leap out of your chest. Your body screamed at you to rest, but the adrenaline, produced by fear, said to go on. Sandy and Eugene did, but at a child’s pace. Armstrong knew it was time to lay out a defense perimeter.

  “Ray and Cassandra, stay with Sandy and Gene. The three of us are going to try and hold them off. Foote and Wrenn—set up a point perimeter, fifty yards. I’ll take the middle.”

  Wrenn moved to the south, about fifty yards, and stood on the west side of a thick tree. Foote did the same thing about fifty yards to the north. Armstrong moved about fifty yards due west. They waited until the enemy fired to get a fix on their location or until they showed up. They figured they wouldn’t have to wait long. Meanwhile, Ray and Cassandra flanked Gene and Sandy. They were moving slowly, which allowed Ray and Cassandra to fall back temporarily, and look for the enemy. They could easily catch up to them.

  They heard another shot, and this time Cassandra cried out. Ray ran over to her, but she was dead. He estimated that the bullet went through her back and through the left ventricle. Ray cried as he stood over her. Eugene stopped first and went over to Ray. “Is she dead?” Ray just nodded.

  Sandy ran up from behind. “Please, Ray, we have to go.”

  “I can’t go. I can’t leave her,” he said sobbing.

  Sandy wore a fearful expression, “They’re catching up to us.”

  Ray looked up at them. “I estimate you’re less than two hundred yards from the border. Run straight ahead for thirty seconds, then go right until you reach the road. Then straight for the border.”

  “Come with us, Ray,” pleaded Eugene.

  Ray tugged at Eugene. “Listen to me, Gene. Professor Zinney once told me that my tactics would never work, but I never listened. He was right. This country will collapse under its own greed. People will have to replace it with something. We have to bring the New World to the Old World. People have to know something better is out there. We’re their hope now. I don’t know if I’ll make it, but you and Sandy must. Now GO!”

  Ray knelt down and kissed Cassandra for the final time. “See you in heaven, my love.” Then he heard a noise and looked up at his brother. He stared at a Colt pointing right at him. Then Ray felt the pain of a .45 slug ripping through his intestines.

  Chapter 28:

  An Unlikely Hero/An Unlikely Villain

  “Kostroma, it’s Olin. I heard one of them yell. A woman, I think.”

  “Good. We’re pinned down here by three of them. I think there’s only five left. Keep on the others.”

  “Kostroma, one of my men said he got another one. I don’t know if he’s dead, but if he is, I believe it leaves only four left.” Then after a pause, “Make that five left. My best guy says he believes the one who yelled only faked it to throw us off. He’s now changed position and firing back. He got one of my men. We lost eight so far.”

  “Where are you?” Kostroma said.

  “About twenty-five yards behind you, but we were fired upon as well. I believe the best of them are what’s holding you back. Goddamn border is in sight and I see militia over there. They’ve fired at us. We’re going into the woods to pursue them there.”

  “Okay, but get them. You are our last hope now.”

  Dennis approached him quickly until he was standing over his brother, sneering at him. Ray lay at his feet with blood oozing from a stomach wound.

  “Good to see you, Denny,” Ray said as he looked up at his brother. “I was sure we’d meet up.”

  Dennis just glared at his brother, and then began to smile; a smile of satisfaction. “That’s really hysterical, little brother. I was thinking the very same thing: How nice it’d be to run into dear old Ray.” Dennis’s expression turned to anger. “I dreamed of this. You lying at my feet, dying at my hand.”

  He expected Ray would plead for his life, but Ray calmly reached under his vest. Dennis was startled and raised his piece while Ray held out his hand in a friendly gesture.

  “It’s just an envelope,” Ray said, as he reached out to his brother. “Open it.”

  “That again!”

  “I realized you weren’t ready for it the first time I showed you it. I didn’t know then you’d start dreaming of us.”

  Dennis still had his weapon trained on Ray when he reached out and snatched the manila envelope. He undid the clasp while still keeping an eye on his brother. There were a dozen or so papers inside. The top one was titled DD214.

  “They’re your discharge papers.” Dennis stared at them. “Do you remember, Denny? You’ve started dreaming of us, haven’t you?”

  Dennis looked perplexed. How does he know about the dreams? No one but Teresa knows. He continued to stare at the discharge paper.

  “You were a Seal. Look at the next paper.” Dennis did so, and began to read. “You were the best of ‘em. That’s Captain Miranda’s commendation. You were the best he had. The Navy discharged you in favor of mercenaries, so you became one. Not just any soldier of fortune, mind you. You joined the French Foreign Legion. Hell, they recruited you.”

  Dennis was still bewildered and disbelieving. “This is impossible. I don’t believe you. You’re a goddamned liar. You always were. I remember everything from the time we were kids. You were always the favorite son. All the opportunities went your way. I hated you. You went into the Blues and I bounced around doing construction jobs.”

  Ray listened with amusement, even though the pain was relentless. “Construction, huh? What’s a balustrade?” Dennis looked bewildered.

  “You don’t know, do you?”

  Dennis grew angry. “I know what I did. I have a vivid recollection of everything.”

  “Look at the next paper.”

  Dennis reluctantly complied.

  “Those are your medals and accommodations. You were in Africa, South America, and Europe. Then you heard about the Rust Belt War, and Redd Piper, and his Pilgrims in Oregon. You came home to help. You started the Lightning Squad to fight the RAC and the government that declared war on its people. You know the ones: the by the people, of the people and for the people. Yeah, those ones. Then we started the Blues. The two of us. You were my hero, Dennis. Do you remember?”

  “Liar,” screamed Dennis. “I never did any of those things. I have a vivid memory of everything I did.” Dennis began to calm down as he reflected on the only world he understood. “I was a failure. You did all those things—not me.”

  Ray was amused. “Look at those documents. There are names and phone numbers. Check them out.” Ray began coughing up blood. “I think the end is near, so let me finish telling you what you’re starting to remember.”

  “Wait,” Dennis said. “How do you know about my dreams?”

  “They all have them. Sandra Casimir, those kids of that Haystack fellow—you know the one: ‘bring your devils to my camp and I’ll return to you little angels.’ Remember that one, Dennis? Then the ‘little angels’ started remembering. It only took them one or two months to remember.” Ray paused to
look up at his brother. Dennis was still staring at the papers.

  “Why do you think Casimir made you his number two man in the organization?”

  “It’s just temporary.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Think about it. Why would he do it?”

  Dennis didn’t answer as he stared at the documents. Then he looked down at Ray. “It’s because of you. He figures I know you. Who better to put in charge? Furthermore, he knows how much I hate you and would want to capture you.”

  “That’s not it at all,” Ray said, still smiling through the pain. “He doesn’t give a rat’s ass about us being brothers. He wanted only the best. The doctors told him that while you’d lose memories of your past, you wouldn’t lose the ability to react like you always did before. You’d be Legionnaire Dennis again. Genghis Kahn. Yeah, I heard. As soon as combat arose you’d instinctively know what to do. You went through Hell House, Den.”

  Dennis was stunned. “No way, man; and how could you know Casimir called me that?”

  “Dennis, listen to me. You do remember the story of the soldier that took nine months to—how do you put it—be treated?”

  “Everyone at headquarters knows the story.”

  “Well that soldier was you.”

  “What! How do you know all this?”

  “Because Teresa tells Casimir, Casimir tells Judy, and Judy tells me.” Ray waited for the reaction.

  “Wait! Back up! What’s this about Teresa?”

  “I was coming to that. You were in Hell House, buddy. You were a soldier in the Blues. We kicked the RAC’s ass, but we were set up. We didn’t know about Casimir at this point. He disbanded us, but he kept you. You were taken to Hell House.” Ray coughed up some more blood, and stared at the oozing blood from his guts. Then he looked up at his brother and smiled. “You were a real pain in the ass to those pricks. You gave them holy hell, Den. They had to double the guard detail on you, but it wasn’t enough. They had you strapped to the chair—both arms and legs. It didn’t matter. You wrenched the whole chair, bolts and all, right out of the cement floor. Then you clobbered the doctor with the back of it. It took four guards to wrestle you down; then the nurse gave you an injection of something to knock you out.”