Frank Klus - Azaleas Don't Bloom Here

“Leave her alone!” came the mournful scream from the woods.

“You know what to do,” Pizzaro said, not hollering, but softly, as if he were too busy contemplating his anticipated adventure. He then turned Sandy around so her behind faced him. Then he undid his own pants and pulled everything down.

Eugene saw what was happening, and he was about to surrender himself, then stopped. He looked at Pizzaro with his pants down and saw an opportunity.

Pizzaro grabbed Sandy’s left hand and forced it on his penis. “How does that feel, babe? You like it? You want daddy Sevi to do you now, huh?”

His two buddies were really whooping it up now. There was an occasional shout from the traffic. One guy even stopped for a better look, but a warning shot from one of the Blues let him know to move on.

Pizzaro rubbed Sandy’s vagina again and then shoved his cock into her; hard, brutal; with a desire to inflict pain. Then in and out, in and out, again and again. Sandy stuck a clenched fist in her mouth. She did not want to cry out.

All at once Pizzaro stopped to raise his arms in triumph; turning around to his men, who continued to howl. He never even noticed Eugene speeding out of the woods, grabbing Sandy and, while lifting her off the ground, headed back to the woods. In the roughly two seconds this happened both pointmen lie dead, and a surprised and stunned Pizzaro stared at a 9-millimeter Berretta pointed at him… then lowered. Before he had a chance to react he felt a sharp sting. When he looked down, there was just a red patch where his privies used to be. He stared at Armstrong, pointing the Beretta at him; then everything went black as he collapsed to the dirt and gravel at the side of the road.

Armstrong rushed into the woods where he found Gene and Sandy arm in arm. Sandy was still exposed, and when she realized it, Armstrong and Eugene turned away while she pulled her pants back up and folded her arms around her breasts. Armstrong came out of the woods. Pamela rushed over as did Ray and Cassandra from the rear point. The two Blues sharpshooters, Wrenn and Foote, drove across the roadway to this side of the road and came out. They all clapped and smiled as the three came out of the woods, and everyone crowded together.

“Well, Eugene,” Armstrong said, “a bit reckless, but well-done.”

“Gene, you scared me so,” Pamela said.

Then Sandy scolded him. “What were you thinking, Gene? You could have been killed.”

Gene retorted, “Maybe I’ve seen the Blues in action too much, but I knew they needed separation between you and Pizzaro. I figured we’d both be killed if something didn’t happen.”

Wrenn and Foote came over, each with grins on their faces. Then Wrenn spoke. “That was awesome, dude. Where’d you learn to do that?”

They all started laughing. Even Pamela cracked a grin. Finally, all the emotion that Sandy held back during her time of shame and humiliation came pouring out of her in raptures of sorrow and relief. Tears streamed down her face, while Pamela put Sandra’s shirt back on. She tucked it in, and even though everyone showed her great support, part of her was ready to run in shame. Then came the realization that they were in full view of witnesses with three dead bodies around them. “We need to get out of here now,” Armstrong said.

“Sandy, you stay in the middle. You take the lead, Pamela, and I’ll follow you. Wrenn, Foote, and the O’Reilly’s—you trail behind. No one is going to get the drop on any one of us again. All right, people—we got one fueling stop and then strait to Midmountain, Idaho.”

Horace Hayfield was being harassed by the parents of the children he treated. It seemed the little tykes were waking up in the middle of the night screaming, and talking about sticks touching them, and hurting. It didn’t make too much sense to the parents at first, but after the Miller family took their youngster to a child psychologist, they believed there was a connection with Hayfield’s camp. After several other families revealed their children were having nightmares, the police were called in to question Hayfield. Since this threatened to unravel everything the government was doing with the brain probe, the investigation was terminated, and it became a civil affair in which Hayfield was being sued by the parents.

For Hayfield, the problem was only just beginning. When the Commandant’s wife went missing after having nightmares and yelling her first husband’s name in her sleep—the husband she wasn’t supposed to remember anymore—Hayfield knew it was only a matter of time before he’d be killed by government agents—probably by Jaydan Casimir. He knew Eugene Sulke was being hunted down and he knew how badly the government wanted this whole Brain Probe Project to be covered up. So Horace made the decision to flee.

The issue for Hayfield was how to get away. He was able to get a work visa in New America and he had an exit visa stamped on his passport. He tried to schedule a flight to New America only to be told all flights there were canceled. Then he tried to take a bus there, but all trips to New America had been canceled. It appeared that driving was the only way to get there. So he gathered his essentials, put his house up for sale, and took off in his two year old Mercedes for the New World.

He took Rte. 80 westward and moved up the coastal highway, which went into New America. About a mile from the border the highway closed at the last exit ramp just short of the border. All the side roads into the new state of North California were closed—sometimes only a block or so from the border.

“The border is sealed,” the guard said. “No one gets in or out on orders from the President.”

Hayfield spent about a month trying to find an access point. He rented a motorboat and tried to enter North California from the sea, only to be turned back by the Coast Guard. Then he heard about a small airport where a pilot had taken other people to Portland, Oregon. They paid a thousand dollar fee to the Piper Air Club, which provided tours of New America as seen from the air. Before the restrictions that began three years ago, they used to land businessmen there to conduct their trade.

When New America was accused of violating its agreement with the United States—though few people knew why—the government broke off trade relations. Sanctions continued to be added until the point was reached where all access to the new country was blocked. The mail service was not allowed to bring mail in or out, and Canada was promised sanctions against them if it did not cooperate with the U.S. Internet sites were blocked in and out of New America, and various other restrictions virtually sealed off the new country from the rest of the world.

New America found ways around the restrictions, such as using a network of other countries that could relay communications to people in the United States, and even a rudimentary underground trading system was set up; but the U.S. Government estimated that about ninety percent of communications with New America were successfully blocked.

This was the situation facing Horace Hayfield as he tried to escape from Old America. His contact at the Piper Air Club was Sadie Meriwether, who used to live in the state of North California. She tried to start an air show, but went to work for the Club when her business failed. In her mid-forties, she never married and became the featured pilot when it came to taking businessmen to various cities in New America. When the restrictions came, the Club revised their business plan. They began taking tourists on overland trips to New America. The government approved this so long as they didn’t land.

“Hello, Miss Meriwether,” Horace said.