Frank Klus - Azaleas Don't Bloom Here

“Olin,” Mueller said. “Brigade Commander Kostroma just radioed me. He’d been driving up the road when he heard voices from the trees. He fired into them, but got no response. They’re in pursuit now.”

“So they crossed over into the south woods, Captain?”

“That’s affirmative. Get all your men to the road. Run west to get ahead of them and cut them off.”

The Pilgrims thought they got a break. There was a bit of a clearing ahead. They could see that the woods were thinning. They continued to run. Eugene and Sandy were down to a light jog now, and even the Blues were huffing it.

A mile to go. Got to keep going , thought Eugene. His mind kept wandering. He thought of Dennis again. How can he do this to me? We were best friends. Why did he change? Could he have …? He couldn’t or wouldn’t finish that thought. He wanted to remember his friend the way he was. That time we played space people by the drainage ditch that became a shopping center a few years later, and then the anchor left. A few years later all the shops closed down. Then the town went under. Only a few stayed behind. They couldn’t or didn’t want to leave. Pamela was right. My world died and their ghosts are chasing me now.

Eugene felt like he couldn’t go on. His body rebelled to the point where he felt his legs had turned to lead. A wandering mind helped him deal with the pain from running and the fear of being killed. I have to get to the other side now. I feel it in my bones. There is no life here anymore. It was the first time I could truly realize it. Old America is dead; gone. We went from a productive economy where everyone made money to an economy where only a few people could. Then to an economy that tried to preserve capital by cutting expenses—just a fancy way of saying they preserved profits by robbing people of their money. Then they started running government like a business. They did the same thing to their constituents. Preserve capital—cut expenses. Get rid of welfare, minimum wage, government regulations—promote freedom. Freedom for whom? They legalized drugs, gambling, and prostitution. Business demanded it. Freedom for business. But what freedom were they left with? A shrinking customer base. Squeeze more out of them? That was the freedom. Then if someone decides to steal your wife; if someone else attempts to recruit you into their cause…. Oh stop this, Gene. You’d be doing this one day no matter what.

Eugene was thoroughly exhausted. He felt like he could barely move now. Somehow we morphed into a totalitarian system and no one knows. No one knows because we still have a democratic structure—elections, president, legislature, courts, etc. but it isn’t real anymore. This so-called lobbying outfit—NOGOV—runs the government—and they don’t just stop there. They run everything: the schools, the media, the police, and the courts. They convince everyone that this is the best of all possible worlds. Wasn’t that what Leibnitz said? Because God could control the world any outcome was always the best. Does NOGOV think it’s God?

The pain was getting worse now. Still, he wanted his mind to wander. The brain probe. That was the final solution when the media, the schools, the law, the government wasn’t enough to convince you of the new right and wrong, they’d just strap you to a chair and change your head. Christ. It’s not so dissimilar to the Nazi final solution—no gas chambers, just the brain probe.

Kostroma radioed Olin. “I think I hear them. You’ve got to get ahead of them. They’re less than a mile from the border.”

“Okay, Kostroma, I’m glad you got here. They’re out of my sight. We’re at the road now, and we’re double-timing it westward. Get them to fire back, if you can, so we can get a fix on them.”

“We’re still out of range. They keep moving. You can move faster if you’re on the road. Get as close to the border fence as you can, and then move into the south woods.”

“Okay, we’ll try to move faster.”

As the Pilgrims reached the thinned out area, they noticed a hiking trail going west. Armstrong thought this was a terrific break since they were getting close to the border, and the trail would allow them to make better time. But then two things went wrong. First, the trail curved around south and the woods thickened again, and then they heard gunfire from behind them. Armstrong figured it was about two hundred yards.

“Blues,” Armstrong said, speaking to his sharpshooters, and Ray and Cassandra. “Stay behind Eugene and Sandy to protect them. Shoot only at what you can see, but keep running.”

“Maybe we should split up and hide behind trees,” Foote said. “Then we can pick them off.”

“Only if it’s our only option,” Armstrong said.

“He’s right,” Ray said to Terry. “We don’t know how many there are, and it would expose Gene and Sandy. I think we should head back north by northwest, toward the road. The pursuers might be shooting at phantoms that way.”

“Good idea, Ray,” Armstrong said.

The plan seemed to be working, since the continued gunfire seemed to be toward the left of them; then the next bad break came. They began hearing gunshots from the road and behind them. They couldn’t go back to the road. It must be the original pursuers , thought Armstrong. Then he whispered, “Stay off the road. Go west.”

Sandy went down. Eugene’s heart almost stopped, but she only tripped. She got up with his assistance, and they continued to run. Suddenly Sandy and Gene stopped as they saw the grass moving in front of them like a snake was racing through it. Wrenn caught up to them and said it was gunfire. “Keep moving,” he repeated. Everyone was panting now. It got so loud Chad was afraid their pursuers would pick up on them. Maybe they already had.

“Olin, it’s Kostroma. I heard them. They’re about a half klick from you, maybe less.”

“We’re running up behind them as fast as possible.”

“You shouldn’t have fired. They would have come out to the road. Now, my guess is they’ll stay where they are. We’ll try to outflank them and force them to the road.”

Eugene fell. Armstrong figured he’d tripped since there wasn’t any more shooting, but it was exhaustion. This time Sandy was there to offer encouragement. Gene got up, but their pace was too slow. The Blues knew it, but no one was going to say anything. The journey was simply too long. Armstrong estimated they were only about a third of a mile from safety, but even a third of a mile was too far when you felt like your heart was about to leap out of your chest. Your body screamed at you to rest, but the adrenaline, produced by fear, said to go on. Sandy and Eugene did, but at a child’s pace. Armstrong knew it was time to lay out a defense perimeter.

“Ray and Cassandra, stay with Sandy and Gene. The three of us are going to try and hold them off. Foote and Wrenn—set up a point perimeter, fifty yards. I’ll take the middle.”

Wrenn moved to the south, about fifty yards, and stood on the west side of a thick tree. Foote did the same thing about fifty yards to the north. Armstrong moved about fifty yards due west. They waited until the enemy fired to get a fix on their location or until they showed up. They figured they wouldn’t have to wait long. Meanwhile, Ray and Cassandra flanked Gene and Sandy. They were moving slowly, which allowed Ray and Cassandra to fall back temporarily, and look for the enemy. They could easily catch up to them.