Frank Klus - Azaleas Don't Bloom Here

They heard another shot, and this time Cassandra cried out. Ray ran over to her, but she was dead. He estimated that the bullet went through her back and through the left ventricle. Ray cried as he stood over her. Eugene stopped first and went over to Ray. “Is she dead?” Ray just nodded.

Sandy ran up from behind. “Please, Ray, we have to go.”

“I can’t go. I can’t leave her,” he said sobbing.

Sandy wore a fearful expression, “They’re catching up to us.”

Ray looked up at them. “I estimate you’re less than two hundred yards from the border. Run straight ahead for thirty seconds, then go right until you reach the road. Then straight for the border.”

“Come with us, Ray,” pleaded Eugene.

Ray tugged at Eugene. “Listen to me, Gene. Professor Zinney once told me that my tactics would never work, but I never listened. He was right. This country will collapse under its own greed. People will have to replace it with something. We have to bring the New World to the Old World. People have to know something better is out there. We’re their hope now. I don’t know if I’ll make it, but you and Sandy must. Now GO!”

Ray knelt down and kissed Cassandra for the final time. “See you in heaven, my love.” Then he heard a noise and looked up at his brother. He stared at a Colt pointing right at him. Then Ray felt the pain of a .45 slug ripping through his intestines.

“Kostroma, it’s Olin. I heard one of them yell. A woman, I think.”

“Good. We’re pinned down here by three of them. I think there’s only five left. Keep on the others.”

“Kostroma, one of my men said he got another one. I don’t know if he’s dead, but if he is, I believe it leaves only four left.” Then after a pause, “Make that five left. My best guy says he believes the one who yelled only faked it to throw us off. He’s now changed position and firing back. He got one of my men. We lost eight so far.”

“Where are you?” Kostroma said.

“About twenty-five yards behind you, but we were fired upon as well. I believe the best of them are what’s holding you back. Goddamn border is in sight and I see militia over there. They’ve fired at us. We’re going into the woods to pursue them there.”

“Okay, but get them. You are our last hope now.”

Dennis approached him quickly until he was standing over his brother, sneering at him. Ray lay at his feet with blood oozing from a stomach wound.

“Good to see you, Denny,” Ray said as he looked up at his brother. “I was sure we’d meet up.”

Dennis just glared at his brother, and then began to smile; a smile of satisfaction. “That’s really hysterical, little brother. I was thinking the very same thing: How nice it’d be to run into dear old Ray.” Dennis’s expression turned to anger. “I dreamed of this. You lying at my feet, dying at my hand.”

He expected Ray would plead for his life, but Ray calmly reached under his vest. Dennis was startled and raised his piece while Ray held out his hand in a friendly gesture.

“It’s just an envelope,” Ray said, as he reached out to his brother. “Open it.”

“That again!”

“I realized you weren’t ready for it the first time I showed you it. I didn’t know then you’d start dreaming of us.”

Dennis still had his weapon trained on Ray when he reached out and snatched the manila envelope. He undid the clasp while still keeping an eye on his brother. There were a dozen or so papers inside. The top one was titled DD214.

“They’re your discharge papers.” Dennis stared at them. “Do you remember, Denny? You’ve started dreaming of us, haven’t you?”

Dennis looked perplexed. How does he know about the dreams? No one but Teresa knows . He continued to stare at the discharge paper.

“You were a Seal. Look at the next paper.” Dennis did so, and began to read. “You were the best of ‘em. That’s Captain Miranda’s commendation. You were the best he had. The Navy discharged you in favor of mercenaries, so you became one. Not just any soldier of fortune, mind you. You joined the French Foreign Legion. Hell, they recruited you.”

Dennis was still bewildered and disbelieving. “This is impossible. I don’t believe you. You’re a goddamned liar. You always were. I remember everything from the time we were kids. You were always the favorite son. All the opportunities went your way. I hated you. You went into the Blues and I bounced around doing construction jobs.”

Ray listened with amusement, even though the pain was relentless. “Construction, huh? What’s a balustrade?” Dennis looked bewildered.

“You don’t know, do you?”

Dennis grew angry. “I know what I did. I have a vivid recollection of everything.”

“Look at the next paper.”

Dennis reluctantly complied.

“Those are your medals and accommodations. You were in Africa, South America, and Europe. Then you heard about the Rust Belt War, and Redd Piper, and his Pilgrims in Oregon. You came home to help. You started the Lightning Squad to fight the RAC and the government that declared war on its people. You know the ones: the by the people, of the people and for the people. Yeah, those ones. Then we started the Blues. The two of us. You were my hero, Dennis. Do you remember?”

“Liar,” screamed Dennis. “I never did any of those things. I have a vivid memory of everything I did.” Dennis began to calm down as he reflected on the only world he understood. “I was a failure. You did all those things—not me.”

Ray was amused. “Look at those documents. There are names and phone numbers. Check them out.” Ray began coughing up blood. “I think the end is near, so let me finish telling you what you’re starting to remember.”

“Wait,” Dennis said. “How do you know about my dreams?”

“They all have them. Sandra Casimir, those kids of that Haystack fellow—you know the one : ‘bring your devils to my camp and I’ll return to you little angels.’ Remember that one, Dennis? Then the ‘little angels’ started remembering. It only took them one or two months to remember.” Ray paused to look up at his brother. Dennis was still staring at the papers.

“Why do you think Casimir made you his number two man in the organization?”

“It’s just temporary.”

“Doesn’t matter. Think about it. Why would he do it?”

Dennis didn’t answer as he stared at the documents. Then he looked down at Ray. “It’s because of you. He figures I know you. Who better to put in charge? Furthermore, he knows how much I hate you and would want to capture you.”

“That’s not it at all,” Ray said, still smiling through the pain. “He doesn’t give a rat’s ass about us being brothers. He wanted only the best. The doctors told him that while you’d lose memories of your past, you wouldn’t lose the ability to react like you always did before. You’d be Legionnaire Dennis again. Genghis Kahn. Yeah, I heard. As soon as combat arose you’d instinctively know what to do. You went through Hell House, Den.”

Dennis was stunned. “No way, man; and how could you know Casimir called me that?”

“Dennis, listen to me. You do remember the story of the soldier that took nine months to—how do you put it—be treated?”

“Everyone at headquarters knows the story.”

“Well that soldier was you.”

“What! How do you know all this?”

“Because Teresa tells Casimir, Casimir tells Judy, and Judy tells me.” Ray waited for the reaction.

“Wait! Back up! What’s this about Teresa?”