Frank Klus - Azaleas Don't Bloom Here

“Ray, is Sandy inside?”

“No, I thought she was with you.”

Eugene went inside and found everyone else, but no Sandy, and no Armstrong.

Foote went to the station attendant, but the attendant stuck his head out of the window first. “Hey, you looking for two people?”

“Yes, did you see where they went?”

“Two guys went to each vehicle, and a man and a woman got out, and got in a black sedan.”

“Did you get the make and model? See their license plate?”

“No. It was a pretty new sedan; maybe a limo, like a Lincoln. I didn’t see the license plate.”

“Which way did they go?”

“There’s only one way to go—west.”

Foote got in Armstrong’s car while Cassandra drove Sandy’s car. There was no other choice. They had to find them. Another needle in a haystack , Ray thought.

Eugene and Pamela followed them. Pamela could see that Eugene was worried. Since Sandy showed up she and Gene seemed to become close traveling companions. “Are you concerned about Sandy?”

“Of course. Armstrong too.”

Pamela smiled. “You care for her.”

Gene looked surprised. “I guess there is a certain amount of attraction, but it’s more than that. She reminded me of Fernando. You should have heard the way he talked about her; how loving and kind she was. Her change was not her fault. They stuck her in that awful place. They changed her.” He paused and thought a moment.

“Something else too. I can’t put my finger on it, but she reminds me of someone I used to know.”

“An old girlfriend?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” He was quiet for a little while and then cleared his throat. “She made me think of Catherine before Casimir got to her. How many lives has that bastard ruined? I shudder to think that he would do that to her again. I only spent about two or three days there—though it felt a lot longer—”

“It was,” Pamela said. Gene just stared at her incredulously. “According to Ray, they drugged you and brought you to Hell House on Saturday. It was Friday before they rescued you.”

“Friday? I know I was pretty much out of it at the time, but I thought it was only about three days.”

“Gene, you were there for almost a week.”

“Even a week can’t compare to the months that Sandy spent in there. I can’t imagine the horror of undergoing the brain probe hour after hour, day after day, week after week, and even month after month.”

“At least she’s with Armstrong.”

“Yeah,” said Eugene who then turned toward Pamela. “Why are things so fucked up? I understand the academic explanation, but I just can’t get my head around why this is happening. Why do people put up with it?”

“Why did you, Gene?” Eugene was taken aback by the remark and glared at Pamela. It was the second time she shook him up, but Pamela was unshaken. “What was your reaction to the things Cassandra was telling you?”

“That was different. She wanted me be a part of their revolutionary plan. I talked to Professor Zinney and he told me to get as far away from them as I could—Dennis too.”

“I know, Gene. And I don’t fault you for it. I’m just saying that if you want to know why no one is standing up for the promise of America, instead of what it has become, then ask yourself—before all this started happening to you—did you want to be a part of any meaningful change yourself?” Eugene knew she was right, but the criticism stung, nevertheless.

“How about that job offer you told me about? A quarter million dollar offer would have been difficult to turn down. Now, answer me honestly, Eugene. Would you have taken that job offer if you never met Cassandra or everything was fine with Catherine?”

Eugene hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

“You told me at Jeff’s motel that you would have. You knew what was happening to business. You knew about business expansion into things the Mafia used to be involved in, but you didn’t quit your job. You worked for the promotion offered to you.”

“Please don’t bring up that incident at the motel. I was out of my mind. I don’t know what I would have done.” Pamela looked at Eugene like she didn’t believe him. Eugene looked downcast. He knew Pamela was right to be suspicious of him. “Okay, I would have.”

“It’s okay, Gene. Anyone would have done the same.”

“No. Ray and Cassandra wouldn’t have. Neither would Armstrong or his sharpshooters.” Then Eugene looked over to Pamela. “And you too. Why didn’t you go over there? You said you don’t really make much money taking people to New America, and you don’t need the money anyway. So why do you risk your life doing it?”

Pamela didn’t answer right away. She looked pensive, and then glanced at Eugene. “Because I have to.” Eugene was perplexed. “I have to, Gene.” She looked sad, and Eugene began to worry he had opened some old wound.

“Gene, my brother, Redd, whom you remember so fondly, died because of me.”

“What?”

“For what I did.” She looked so forlorn, but Gene wanted to hear the story.

“Tell me, Pamela.”

“I was married to the man who assassinated him. We were young and in love. Then he started drinking and got really jealous of my brother’s success. He hated Redd. The irony is that my brother cared about him. He wanted to help him, but he wouldn’t or couldn’t help himself. We ended up divorcing, but his obsession with my brother only intensified. He wanted him dead. One day he succeeded.”

Eugene felt sad for her. He’d heard the story of Redd Piper’s assassination, but never realized that man was Pamela’s ex-husband.

“So, rather than have a nice life in the New World, I had to do penance—wanted to. My brother sacrificed his life to make a better world. Now I want to continue his work by bringing people over. I do it, Eugene, because I feel it’s my duty.”

Eugene could understand, though he felt bad that he always looked to others to be the heroes, while he just wanted to be happy and comfortable. “I just wish things were….”

“Gene, I know how you feel about things. I know you want the world to be like you always remembered it, but it wouldn’t last, and I have to believe that deep down somewhere you know that to be true. Please understand that this country has no future. It little understands its past. Your company has no future. It is with this country today. We’re being consumed by all the rot of its voracious, all-consuming appetite for power and control. NOGOV is squeezing the life out of this country. You see it every day in your business. It used to be that companies looked to expand; then, when they couldn’t expand anymore, they focused on cutting expenses—conserving and protecting what they had. But they couldn’t. They tried to keep wages as low as possible, eliminating the minimum wage law some twenty years ago. They made unions illegal. It kept profits up, but not for long. People with little money to spend aren’t buying enough to keep the profit flow going. Now those same companies are using drugs, gambling, and prostitution to keep going. Your job is to help them into these areas, and to figure out how to find new markets and innovative ways to make it work. And you would have, because you are very talented. But when you’ve squeezed the last drop out of that market, what’s left? Slavery? You’d be laid off, and your company would cease to function. I don’t know when this will happen, but it will.”

“So you’re saying that even if none of this happened to me, I’d still lose out in the end?”

“Everything that I just said occurred, not because of bad choices, but because they had to happen. Once you can’t expand, you have to protect what profits you have. To do that, one creates the very conditions that lead to this dead world. There is no future here, Eugene. There isn’t one for your father. There isn’t one for your uncle, and there isn’t one for Bo. At some point you’d be looking to make this journey. You’d make it or be swallowed up by the stink of a rotting nation. Ray and Cassandra knew that.”