Frank Klus - Azaleas Don't Bloom Here

“Yeah, but I put it away.”

Foote nodded. “I told him to keep it in the top drawer. I didn’t want him carrying it around.”

“Exactly!” Armstrong said.

“I confirmed the gun was still there,” Ray said.

“Folks,” Armstrong said, “you were never ever in real danger, except for that pointman with the pea shooter. Foote already had him under cover.”

“I hate to break up this happy ending, people,” Pamela said, “but we’ve got a bunch of dead bodies, bullet holes, a busted in door—and the manager will be here in ten minutes. We better… how’d you put it… oh yeah, skedaddle on out of here.”

Cassandra just smiled. “I’ll explain it all to the manager when he comes in.”

Pamela was astounded. “Are you crazy? We got to get out of here, now. This place will be crawling with cops. What if they’re on their way now?”

Armstrong was more relaxed. “Point one. Unless one of us or them called the police, they aren’t on the way. The reason is that the other wing of the motel is closed down for the winter. We’re the only ones here.

“Second, the manager knows our vehicles, can identify us, and we’d be caught as fugitives running from multiple murders.”

“Cassandra is about as good as it gets at convincing someone of our good intentions,” Ray said.

Sandy and Eugene wanted to know what her plan was.

Cassandra explained. “A motorcycle gang was bent on rape, robbery, and murder. They came in the middle of the night, there was a shootout, and we killed them. Their bikes are still in the cargo van.”

“He’s going to call the police and let them do their own investigation,” Pamela said.

“You do have the doctors’ money, huh? And Sandy’s?” Cassandra said.

“Yeah.”

“We’ll need about ten grand of the money. It’ll be needed for repairs to the motel, and that manager will come out financially ahead. Sure, he’ll call the police after we leave, but we’ll be well out of their jurisdiction when they get here. We’ll get away.”

Cassandra went to the office and waited for the motel guy to get there. Armstrong, Wrenn and Foote went to Bones’s body, and carried him into the SUV. Armstrong was quite distraught as he said his final goodbyes to his lifelong companion.

Cassandra came out twenty minutes later with a smile on her face. “It’s all taken care of, fellas. He was pissed at first, but ten grand in the suitcase persuaded him to accept the story, and he promised he’d wait a couple hours before calling the police.”

Armstrong called for everyone to pack up and meet in the center of the parking lot. Ten minutes later, Armstrong addressed the group. “Well, our job is done. Pamela, you are about the bravest lady I have ever known. I turn over your troupe to you and we’ll go back to our business.”

Then Foote spoke up. “Me and Wrenn are going with them, Chad. In lieu of the money, we’ll tag along with Ray and Cassandra, provide extra security, and go to New America.”

“Why don’t you come with us?” Wrenn said. “We could really use you.”

“Yeah, come with us, Chad,” Foote said. “If that’s all right with Pamela.”

Pamela smiled. “The more the merrier.”

Chad wore a smirk. “Christ, man. What am I going to do without you guys? I lost Bones, and now you two as well. I got to admit one thing. I sure would like to know what’s on the other side of that border. Virtually no one goes in, no one comes out, and there’s almost a total blackout. Christ, you’d think it’s North Korea.”

“Some people call it heaven,” Ray said.

“I have a home there,” Pamela said. “It is like an escape from hell. Let’s all go there together. This time I’m staying over there.”

“Shit,” Chad said, smiling. “Fine! We’ll be the newest pilgrims.”

Then Wrenn yelled, “On to the New World.”

Then everyone else chimed in. “On to the New World,” cheering.

The group drove about a hundred more miles into northern South Dakota—neutral territory. Armstrong found a spot on the side of the road, in a wooded area near a mile marker. He buried Bones there, and carefully stepped off the distance from the mile marker. After the burial, everyone gathered around his grave while Chad gave the eulogy.

“Today, April 12th, I say good-bye to my friend, Robert Shipley. I called him Bones because at 6-1 and all of 160 pounds he looked like he was all skin and bones. I think, if given a choice, he would have wanted to come with us. My wish is to bury him in the New World, but it’s uncertain how long it will take us to get there. Bones was more than a good soldier, he was my friend. He had all the skills one could want: smart, fearless, and strong. I will sorely miss him. I consider this innocuous place to be only a temporary resting spot. I’m going to come back for you, buddy. I don’t know when, and it may be a long time, but I’ll never forget to come back for you. We’ll give you a proper funeral and burial in the New World. After all, you died to make this happen for the rest of us. God bless you, my man. Rest in peace old faithful friend. Rest in peace.”

The new pilgrims pulled into a motel and grabbed five rooms. Eugene went to Pamela’s room and found Sandy there. “Oh, is this a bad time?”

“No, Gene, it’s all right,” Pamela said.

“So, I’m Gene again?”

“Oh, that’s right.”

“What’s going on?” Sandy said.

“I called him Phillip. That was what outsiders know him as. I couldn’t be sure at first, so I told you his name was Phillip.”

“But it’s Eugene, or just Gene,” he said.

It was a good opportunity for Eugene to get to know Sandy, of whom he remembered Fernando speaking so fondly. Sandy had no groceries, and Armstrong didn’t think it safe for anyone to be off on their own. Eugene found an old restaurant menu in his room that delivered and invited Sandy and Pamela over for pizza.

“You two go. I have something here,” Pamela said.

Sandy smiled and told Gene she’d come.

“Tell me about Fernando. You didn’t get a chance to answer when I asked you that before because the Hogs showed up. He was in many of my dreams. I think I truly loved him.”

Eugene relayed to Sandra everything he remembered from that time in Joliet, and then his experience in Hell House.

Sandy just looked at him curiously. “So, why did they put you in there?”

He then told her the story of his life up to Catherine’s death. Sandy listened sympathetically. They drank much of the last of the wine. Finally, Eugene just said, “I had a good life where I was. I had a well-paying job and a terrific wife, whom I miss very much.”

“Tell me about her, Gene.”

“She was quite beautiful and smart. She taught high school—mostly history and literature—but she could teach math below calculus in a pinch. Then she began drinking heavily. She’d be forgetful, and was always going out a lot. I learned that she was forced into an affair with… Jaydan Casimir, your husband. It was before he met you. When Catherine couldn’t handle it anymore, she killed herself on drugs and booze.”

“Oh my God, Gene. What did you do?”

“No sooner than she died I found myself fighting for my own freedom. That’s when they stuck me in Joliet. It was after Catherine died that Casimir came after you. He came after me too. He thought I’d go radical on him, blame him for Catherine’s death, so they stuck me in Hell House. It turns out that Dennis, Ray’s brother, was just using me. He’s the one who brought me there. I thought he was my friend.” Eugene looked downcast at this point.