Frank Klus - Azaleas Don't Bloom Here

“Yeah, I’ve seen that before too, but it’s just some camp parents send their kids to. I think they just started them up last year. Surely, you don’t think they’re the same thing you went through?”

“I think they’re much the same as what I went through. They might not knock the little tykes around, but I’m certain it’s the same thing. God, how can they do this to anyone, let alone children? Of all things!”

“Please, Gene, calm down. There’s nothing you can do about it. Just put it behind you and concentrate on getting to New America.”

“I’m sorry, Pamela. You’re right, but when you’ve gone through the same thing I did it’s impossible to put it behind you. I’m going to remember that place. Christ, Pamela, Hell House is one thing, but now they’re privatizing them. They’re charging for the privilege of torturing their children, and they don’t even know it. They shoot you full of drugs until you’re so fucked up you don’t know up from down. That’s what they do, and now they make you pay for the privilege of being drugged into some sort of controlled state. What the hell? It’s like Professor Zinney said, ‘Gene, it’s not government you should fear, it’s what comes after.’”

Dennis O’Reilly was running Command Central for Operation Capture out of his new office. He had a large wall-size map of the country. He created new borders with colored markers: red for Squad territory, black for RAC, green for purely neutral territory, pink for neutral territory friendly to the Squad, and brown for neutral territory friendly to the RAC.

Next, he mapped out a likely route his fugitives would take, maximizing purely neutral territory. He would bribe anyone along the perceived route to look out for them, and promise rewards for the eventual arrest and capture of them. He had Squad or RAC people circulating pictures the Squad had on file of the escapees.

He solicited volunteers from Squad and RAC soldiers. He promised a ten thousand dollar reward for the capture of each man and five hundred dollars for information leading to their capture. There weren’t many volunteers. He then told them that Jaydan Casimir would remember any of the volunteers. It would be a good career move, he hinted. This created a few more volunteers, but Dennis hardly felt like Genghis Kahn.

Dennis knew this was no easy assignment. He didn’t even know the type of vehicle they were driving. He could only guess at the route they were likely to take, and he knew he needed a lot more information before he could even think about arrest and capture. He knew he needed help, and so he took a deep breath and knocked on Jaydan Casimir’s door.

“Come!”

“Sir, I need your expertise.”

“Sit.” Dennis did as directed. “I was wondering when you were coming in. Are you familiar with the Hogs?”

“Hogs, sir?”

“There are a few dozen of them in groups of three or six around the country; motorcycle gangs. Their leader, Carlos Colderon, used to be with the Blue Squad, like your brother. Not all of them joined Ray, thank God. Colderon worked for me in the past. He’s smart but cranky—actually, he can be quite violent. He didn’t like the idea of working with the RAC, but he never got along with your brother either. He considered him and his buddies from the Blues too idealistic.” Casimir looked pensive.

“I think he’d murder his own mother if the price was right. You’ll have to offer him at least 25 G’s to get his support, but you’ll need it. He also won’t do anything until he gets the money up front, and there’s no guarantee he’ll help us either. Better to offer him half now and the other… well, you know how it goes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve already spoken to him. Colderon was noncommittal because I told him he’d be working for you. He needs to hear from you first. He’ll try to intimidate you, so you’ve got to assert yourself. Be respectful though, or you’ll lose him, but be authoritative as well. He’s very temperamental and doesn’t trust anyone. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Here’s his card. He uses a mobile phone, so you can call him. You need him, O’Reilly, but get your ducks in a row before you call him. I know you’ve projected a route that your brother might take, but you must find out what they’re driving. Call all the used car lots in a fifty mile radius from Countryside that is still in neutral territory. Ask for a white Suburban no more than a couple years old. That’s the car Pamela was known to be driving. We believe she exchanged the vehicle for another one. Bribe the dealer to find out if a Suburban was just bought in the past week or so, and if it was Pamela’s. Find out what she bought. Get as much info as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

Casimir looked suspiciously at Dennis. “You sure you can handle this?”

“Yes, sir. You can count on me, sir.”

“Gene… something isn’t it?” Mark said. He wore a big grin while Eugene looked on, worried.

“Why did you go this way? It will only slow us down. You should stick to the highway.”

Mark paid no attention to Gene. He stopped and just stared up at them. Even Gene had to marvel at them.

“The tombstones; nothing like them,” Mark said.

Eugene stared at the empty high rises up and down Michigan Avenue. “It’s a ghost town. This place is so creepy. You can’t go far. The roads are no good. No one ever comes in here anymore.”

Mark continued to ignore his colleague and stared upward. “Just think, Gene, this street used to be jammed with traffic. Thousands of people lived here. At the other end was the place of commerce in Old Chicago; only it wasn’t old then.” Mark smiled. “This place was alive.”

Eugene smiled. He admitted a certain fascination with the old times. “Look over there,” he said, pointing toward the lake. “That was the old Mercantile Center. My father used to talk about how his father would take him there in the fall for the annual auto show, and then in the spring for the boat show. Now it’s just a partially caved in piece of junk.”

“I know. My father used to talk about it too. Then there was the Tech Museum by the lake. Remember that, Gene, and that great toy train that must have taken up about an acre of space?”

“Yeah, I remembered taking a class trip there once. Then the city ran out of money and they closed it down, right along with the school that sent us there. Come on, let’s get out of here before these old buildings fall down on us.”

Mark turned around, but he had to move slowly because of the poor condition of the road. “Damn potholes,” he said.

“They seem to get worse every year.” Eugene stirred. Pamela glanced over to him. “Penny for your thoughts?” she said with a smile.

Ray and Cassandra were about an hour behind Eugene and Pamela, but they had a tracker on them. Ray typically contacted Pamela each night. She was still ambivalent about them, but she put on a friendly countenance for Eugene’s sake.

A couple years ago the Lightning Squad arrested her when she was on her way back from escorting a family out of the country. They charged her with aiding and abetting a known fugitive. A government official went after Commandant Casimir, just a month into his new position, and threatened to arrest him for civil rights violations. Casimir backed down and ordered the Squad to free Pamela. From then on, the Squad would go after the fugitives, but not Pamela.

This was the current situation. Pamela’s security expert gave her a route, and she had a friendly senator in Congress that would apprise her of any danger. Now she had extra security tailing her at a considerable distance.