Frank Klus - Azaleas Don't Bloom Here

Eugene appeared confused. “What is he doing?” he asked Ray.

“Using the spotlight to see better. Hopefully it’ll illuminate the enemy before us.”

Eugene still couldn’t understand how he got up to the roof at that motel or how he was going to climb that tree. If it was deciduous, he could understand. But a conifer? That’s got to be a lot tougher.

Then he saw Wrenn pull something out and put them on his shoes, and began climbing.

Cassandra came over to him. “They’re called claws. You fit them over your shoes. They grab onto the trunk of the tree. He also grabbed a rope and put it around the trunk. They enable him to climb better and rapidly.” She smiled.

Wrenn was up there about twenty minutes before coming down. The others were huddled together behind a clump of trees. Wrenn came over and reported.

“There’s about a dozen of them; mostly volunteers. One group of three—probably a squadron—and they’re scattered all over. They appear to be moving south and west.”

“We’ve been outflanked,” said Armstrong. His sharpies appeared to concur. “We can’t continue west or we’ll run right into them. We’re going to have to run south and cross the road. They might not expect it.”

“I didn’t see anyone to our south, and the helicopter was searching only in the north woods,” Wrenn said.

“All right, you guys. Let’s run quietly to the road and cross into the south woods. Everyone ready?” They all nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

Everyone was moving quickly now, and then Moore fell, letting out a yell. Eugene and Sandy came back for him. Everyone was occasionally falling, as it was dark and difficult to see where they were going. People were constantly running into low-lying branches, tripping over exposed roots, or getting scratched up on low-lying branches; but Moore’s injury was severe.

“I stepped in a hole and turned my ankle.” When he attempted to get up he found he was incapacitated. Eugene and Sandy attempted to pull him up, but Moore could put no weight on the right foot. They tried to carry him, but Moore screamed in pain when they tried.

They heard Ray. “Keep moving, don’t stop.”

Moore said, “Do as he says. Leave me. I can’t move.”

Then Sandy urged Eugene to keep running as Eugene set him down. “Listen, Ev,” Eugene said, “use your gun. Get as many of those bastards as you can.”

“Count on it,” Senator Moore said.

The gunfire got closer. Armstrong estimated they were about three miles from the border. They tried to move forward, but were being pushed toward the road, where they would be exposed. No one knew if there might be more enemies approaching from there. Armstrong figured if he were running enemy operations he’d radio all nearby forces to move in from the south. If that happened before they could reach the border, they were as good as dead.

“Where are they, Smitty?” Olin said.

“I can’t see them. Could they be dead?” Smitty asked.

“I haven’t run across any bodies. No, I don’t think so. I think they’re hiding. Quiet. Listen for any noise coming from the south. I’ll call the captain.”

“Captain, it’s Olin.”

“What’s your situation?”

“The enemy hasn’t returned fire in the last five minutes. We can’t see them. We think they’re hiding.”

“These are ex-Blues. They’ll do anything to throw us off guard. How many are you?”

“We have a dozen men in pursuit.”

“Flare out and move south carefully. Listen for any sound. Keep your eyes and ears open. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We still have the chopper out there, but there isn’t enough fuel to stay out much longer.”

The Pilgrims reached the road, and saw no sign of anyone. They crossed the road, and put about a hundred yards between themselves and it. “Okay,” Armstrong said. “Run west; full speed. No stopping; no matter how tired you are. Ready? Let’s go.”

The pilgrims still felt they were about three miles from the border. If they moved fast enough they could be there in less than an hour. What they would find when they got there was anyone’s guess.

Eugene could feel his heart slamming against his chest. His panting was raspy. Gotta keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Oh shit, I’m so tired. I don’t hear any more shooting. Maybe they lost us. Gotta keep going anyway. A branch slapped him in the face. How can I hug the trees when they keep tripping me, raking me across the face? Well, better than exposing myself to the enemy, I guess.

He glanced at Sandy. She was in pain. She wasn’t used to running. Still, she ran on. Please Lord; let her at least make it. She’s innocent. She never started anything. She’s a true victim here. Please God, let her make it.

“Keep going, you guys,” Ray said from behind. They were slowing down. Eugene couldn’t sense it. He was going as fast as he could, but his body couldn’t take it anymore. It wasn’t a straight line they were running. They were dodging trees, bushes, and low tree limbs. They were stumbling, falling; and still they pushed on. They hadn’t heard any gunshots for a while. Now they figured they’d gone another mile.

Another limb raked Eugene across the face. He could taste the pine needles in his mouth as he spit them out. He slapped the next branch away only for the ricochet to hit him in the head. Sandy occasionally let out a cry as she was repeatedly slapped by some conifer. Eugene could see her tiring red face panting for breath.

“Two miles to the border,” everyone heard Chad say.

Then Sandy fell. “I can’t go on,” she uttered. Eugene was doubled over as well. Everyone stopped. The Blues waited and listened for the sound of the enemy. There was silence.

“Captain Mueller, it’s Olin. I can’t find them.”

“Olin, where do you think they went? Come on, man, you’re a nine year veteran, a brigade commander. What would you do if you were Armstrong?”

“I thought he and his crew would climb some trees and blend in. We kept looking up, but so far, nothing. We don’t even hear a bird or an animal.”

“Remember, Olin, he’s got civilians with him. He can only move as fast as they can. They’ve got to be nearby. Fire a few rounds to the south. That’s where they’re most likely to be. Try to draw fire from them.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How’s your ammo holding out?”

“We brought plenty, Captain.”

“Keep me posted.”

Olin gave the command. They flared out some more and each man was to fire off a dozen rounds into the woods. Then, silence. No return fire. “Again, men.” They fired off another dozen rounds. No return fire.

Olin reported in again. “Nothing, sir. They didn’t return fire.”

“Keep moving south and west. We must stop them. You want to spend some of that million dollar bounty, don’t you, Olin?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then move it.”

The Pilgrims could hear the gunfire from the north woods. Wrenn heard one of their rounds ricochet off a tree behind him, but he didn’t believe he was spotted. Just a stray bullet , he thought. “Get moving, everyone,” Armstrong said, trying to be quiet, yet forceful. The group was running as fast as they could now, and estimated they were about a mile and a half from the border. Gunfire was heard from behind them. It was what Armstrong feared the most. Enemy reinforcements were coming up from the east. They were still behind them, but exhausted as they were, they were too scared now to stop running.