Frank Klus - Azaleas Don't Bloom Here

“How did you get me out?” Horace asked. “You said you had an idea.”

“According to the treaty with the CSA—that’s the Cooperative States of America—once you are on their side, you are free. No one can capture you and bring you back to Old America. I argued that since part of your hand touched the back of the fence, you were in CSA territory and were illegally pulled back into Old America.

“Now the D.A. wasn’t buying that argument, but in a trial our government could get a black eye over such allegations. I argued that I would drop a lawsuit against the county in exchange for your freedom. They bought it.”

“Thanks, but my life depends on me gettin’ out of the country. So, how do I get out of here?”

“I have an idea on that as well, but it will involve a lot of money, about a hundred grand. You have that kind of money?”

“Jesus. I guess so. I’ll need to withdraw money from the brokerage house that has most of it.”

“Good. Let’s get started.”

He turned his computer around and put his browser on the screen. Hayfield began typing and, after a minute or so, reached his brokerage house. He clicked on the sell button. The screen indicated the stock sold, number of shares, and balance. It showed more than one hundred thirty grand. He then withdrew a hundred grand, to be transferred to his bank account. The screen displayed a dialog box indicating he must call the firm to complete the withdrawal.

He reached for his phone and dialed the number on the screen. It took several minutes to reach a live voice. He mentioned the dialog box and gave his name and account number. The person at the other end told him his account was being frozen on orders from the Justice Department. It seemed they wanted to question him first.

Horace looked frightened. “Well they’re officially after me now. I have about a thousand dollars in cash and my car.”

“Getting cash for your car adds to the risk. We need the money—hush money, bribery, and incidentals. Anything less adds to the risk.”

Both sat staring at each other. Then, Phillips spoke up. “I have an idea, but I need to make some calls first. I’ll drive you to your car. Hopefully it’s still parked where you left it. Go back to your room and wait for me to call you.”

The next day Phillips called Hayfield, and he drove out to the office. “Okay, Horace, I’ve got some good news. I think we can get you to freedom. Have you ever heard of a senator named Everson Moore?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“He’s more familiarly known as Ev Moore. Anyway, he used to work closely with another person you may have heard of—Pamela Piper.”

Horace just shrugged.

“She’s the sister of Redmond Piper. Does that name ring a bell?”

“Of course. Everyone knows who he is.”

“Well, Pamela had been working with Senator Moore in helping people escape Old America. She is currently leading a number of people out of the country and is currently in Idaho. Mr. Moore just talked to her. They can provide the money we need to get everyone across the border.”

“Great! What’s the plan?”

“I’ll tell you when the others come. Do you have enough money to stay where you are for about another week?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“A week is all we need. It may not even take that long. Look, Horace, I’m not going to kid you. This is going to be risky. There’s a chance we’ll all be killed.”

“Everybody up,” yelled Pamela Piper to the pilgrims. “Assemble in the front room.”

Tired bodies, shaking off forgotten dreams, rubbed their eyes, looked for the coffee, and began to waken.

Ray and Cassandra were out on the porch standing guard. They, too, were called in.

Everyone gathered there, grumbling. “What’s wrong?” Eugene asked.

“I’ve got coffee brewing, but I need to tell you something important first.”

“Does this have something to do with Hogs or the Squad?” Armstrong asked.

“No, this is different. It’s good. It’s the opportunity to escape that we’ve been looking for.”

“Oh, tell us,” Sandy said. It’s some of the few words Sandy has uttered since the roadside incident.

“The man I had in government—the man who made it possible for me to escort all of you out of the country had disappeared. He had an exit visa and a plane was ready to take him and his wife to New America. What I only learned a few minutes ago was that he was shot and presumed killed. He was taken to a local hospital and pronounced dead. The government was, or feigned, shock; and a private funeral was held by the family.”

“Oh, my God,” Sandy said. “What is supposed to be the good news?”

“He isn’t dead,” Pamela said. “His wounds were only superficial. The story of his death was concocted to throw his pursuers off the scent. He’s being escorted to Martinville, Idaho. It’s near the border. That’s where we’re going to go. We’ll be meeting with another man who is being persecuted. There’s an attorney who has a plan to get us all out of the country, but it’s going to be expensive.”

“Of course it’s going to be expensive,” Eugene said, sounding frustrated. The rest of the group expressed cynicism.

“We need a hundred thousand dollars.”

There was wide-spread derision from the group. Most were broke. Pamela still had most of the 100,000 given to her, and Chad Armstrong could come up with about ten grand. Foote and Wrenn together could come up with another ten grand, but they were still about ten thousand short counting money for food and gas to get there.

“I have some money,” Jeanne said. “I’ll have to go to the bank.” So did the others. They managed to scrape up the money and had a nice brunch.

Pamela told them some more information. “Most of my money is actually in the New World. It was where I always intended to live. When the government enacted its trade barrier there could be no banking transactions with New America anymore. The money I get from people I escort over the border is mostly used to fund the operation. The little money I have left for myself isn’t much. I’m pretty much going to be out of money after we turn this money over to the lawyer who’s running this little operation.”

“Have you ever had difficulties like this with your other clients?” Ray asked.

“Nothing like this. The task is still difficult, and it’s my friends on both sides of the border that have allowed people to escape persecution here, but now security has been stepped up to the point where it is very difficult to get across. I only agreed to this hundred grand deal because I’m very afraid I can’t get you out. If we’re successful, however, I’ll reimburse you all the money you’ve given me. I have millions in the New World.”

“Well, what is the plan this lawyer has?” Eugene said.

“I don’t know. All I know is that we are to drive to Martinville, and everything will be explained when we get there.”

“When are we supposed to leave?” Armstrong said.

“Now.”

The trip to Martinville was uneventful and only took a few hours, as much of the journey was through neutral territory. Everyone assembled in the Lazy Tourist Inn and began getting to know one another. Problems began, however, when Horace Hayfield introduced himself to Eugene Sulke.

Everyone responded to a fight that broke out by the pool. A table was overturned, a glass was broken, a plant crushed, and two people had to be treated for cuts and bruises. Eugene was still livid. “That man can’t go with us.” He kept shouting while pointing his finger at Horace Hayfield.