Frank Klus - Azaleas Don't Bloom Here

Chad smiled and wished him a good night. Then he went to Sandy’s room.

Sandy greeted him warmly and invited him in. “I’ve just been writing a letter to Jay.”

“Oh?”

“We’ll be in the new country long before he ever gets it. I have no intention of ever going back to him, knowing now how he ruined my marriage to Fernando.”

“Is that why you use Menendez as your last name?”

“Yes. I still feel I really belong to him, even if he’s dead. Jay was good to me, and I never questioned my marriage to him until I started having crazy dreams. Now I know I was actually coerced into marrying him, if that makes any sense.”

“Absolutely, it does. And you’re welcome to write that letter. I’ll let you get some rest now. Be back at eleven.”

“Goodnight, Chad.”

Next, Chad stopped at Eugene’s room.

“Hi, Chad. Come on in. I just finished talking to Bo, my older brother.”

“I guess he must miss you.”

“Yeah, he does. He told me the FBI came to question him, and mom and dad. Now, they feel like fugitives. They want to know where I am. What the hell do I have to do with the FBI? I know why the Squad is chasing me, but the FBI?”

“It’s a strange world we live in.”

“It’s a dead world I live in. I lost my wife, was thrown in jail for something I didn’t do, almost had my brain fried, and now the Squad wants me dead. I know it. I feel it right down to the bone. Now, here I am—no job, no freedom, and maybe about to be killed. All I ever wanted was a normal life: wife, couple of kids, good job. I had that, except for the kids, and now it’s all gone, and I can’t quite comprehend just why. Oh, intellectually, I understand, but emotionally, no. I was never very political, despite being a friend of Professor Zinney. Apparently, some people think I plan to work with him, to overthrow the country, should I get over to the other side. Well, after jail, Hell House, and Hogs, I’d do it, if I knew how.”

Chad just laughed. “Yeah, I know what you mean. These people who own the government get pretty paranoid.”

“What are we going to do when we get over there? Only Pamela has any money. Maybe Haystacks and that senator.”

“None claim to have much money, except Pamela. I wouldn’t worry about it though. Before they started barricading the place, people came and went all the time. I had a buddy who went there just to check it out. He said that even if you showed up penniless they’d take care of you. Besides, Pamela’s loaded. She said she’d reimburse us when we get over there. Well, let me check up on Ev. Get some rest.”

He then knocked on the senator’s door. “Well, Ev, it looks like you’ll finally make it over there, after all.”

“You know, Chad, I had a decent career over here until I got caught. Now it’s cut and run, or go back to Hell House. Maybe if I’m lucky they’ll just put a bullet in my head.” He paused with his head downcast. “I don’t even know if my wife thinks I’m alive or dead. She’s over there waiting for me. I wish I could phone her. I tried, but the call won’t go through.”

“Hang in there, and never give up hope. One thing I know is that everything changes. Watch for it and watch for your opportunity. Now, get some rest.”

As Chad Armstrong began to leave there was a commotion. Someone was yelling, but he couldn’t understand what was being said. Then he heard someone else yell, and then someone else yelling back. The one thing he was sure of was that the shouting was getting closer. Moore came back out to find out what was going on, but Armstrong pushed him back inside, and then followed him in.

The commotion became louder and more intimate. Now he could hear a clear voice. It was loud and commanding. He knew at once it was some sort of authority. He had to think quickly. He’d started to reach for his phone when the door opened. Standing before him was the manager and a Squad leader.

“Mr. Armstrong, I presume,” the Squad leader said. “And Senator Moore. How good to meet you both. I’ve heard so much about you, especially you, Chad.” Armstrong was unarmed; the squad leader was.

“Oh, I guess you want me to introduce myself. I’m McElroy, Brigade Commander of the Local Battalion. You can call me Mac. No need to concern yourself with the specifics. I’m not here legally anyway.” Then he laughed. “Well, legal or not, I got the gun. Come on out, you two, and join the party.”

Armstrong and Moore were led alongside the parking lot in front of this wing of the inn. “Everybody here?” he yelled to his two men. One brandished a rifle and laughing, and the other a handgun. They counted heads and carried pictures.

Christ , thought Armstrong , they seem to know everything about us. It must be that weasel lawyer. Damn, how did I underestimate him?

Mac then addressed the group. “Listen up! Each one of you is going to be taken back to Squad territory. You’re wanted for multiple felony counts including murder. We’re going to process you out of here, two at a time.”

As Mac was making his speech, Armstrong assessed the situation. Only three of them? They do know who we are. That’s obvious. If it were me, I’d have at least three men on the roof with rifles trained on us. But there’s no one but them. Foote saw me and shook his head as if to confirm there were no snipers. Mac seems to be a legitimate leader but the young lad with the rifle is scared. Oh, sure, I saw him laughing at the sight of us—scared, angry, and confused—but he’s scared too. Look at that right leg shake. He keeps moving around so no one will notice, but that’s nothing that’d be lost on my sharpies, as well as Ray and Cass. He’s the weakling of the squadron .

Mac called for Eugene and Pamela. The guy with the handgun got careless as he put the gun in his belt and whipped out plastic cuffs.

Christ, I wished I still had my Berretta on me , thought Armstrong.

Eugene started walking toward Mac. Christ, he has steely confidence .

Just then, with unexpected suddenness, Eugene Sulke whipped a Berretta from behind and fired at Mac’s midsection, and before the other guy could get his gun out of his belt, Eugene shot him as well. Junior froze, not knowing what to do. It gave Eugene a chance to run. He ran around the corner of the motel. Junior got off a shot, but missed. Jesus Christ , thought Chad. Has Eugene been hanging around us too much? He figured out everything. It was beautiful. He must have heard the commotion, and put the gun behind him. He assessed the situation better than me. He knew he was only about twenty feet from the corner of the motel. Enough time to get away. But there’s work to do. The second guy was only winged.

Mac was on his knees with gun in hand. He tried to turn around and return fire, but twisting around was impossible. Pain shot through his whole body. His heart began racing, his skin turned pale, and his face became contorted with the pain. He began sweating profusely. “Get that fucker.” Mac’s voice was stressed and gravelly. The wounded man chased after Eugene. That left junior and a badly wounded Mac to cover the group—five of them Blues.

Come on, Mac. Hurry up and die, will ya ? With Mac gone, Junior will panic. One of the Blues will get him. Look at Junior. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s about to shit his pants, but that makes him dangerous too. Inexperienced people will start shooting at anybody when they get scared enough .

Mac just glared at everyone. He tried to look commanding, if for no other reason than to reassure the kid. He knew he needed him to calm down. He called out to him. “Keep that rifle trained on ‘em, Bernie. If anyone so much as moves, shoot ‘em.” But Mac couldn’t fool any Blue. The kid’s eyes were shooting out of his head.