Azaleas Don't Bloom Here

by Frank Klus

  Sandy stood over Pamela’s body, crying hysterically. “Sandy,” Chad said. “She’s dead.”

  Sandy just stared up at Chad. “We can’t just leave her here like this. Please, Chad, help me get her in my car. I don’t want her to die right here in this place; like this. She’ll be pronounced dead in New America. She can be with her brothers as she always wanted.”

  Chad obliged, and then got Sandy in Moore’s room. Then he headed toward his own room to get his piece.

  Eugene Sulke ran around the corner looking for a place to hide. The wounded man got the drop on him. Eugene froze. “That’s it, punk. Set your handgun down on the ground and come over here.”

  Just then Horace Hayfield leaped on the wounded man’s back and grabbed his gun hand. Eugene picked his weapon back up, but couldn’t fire for fear of hitting Hayfield. He ran over and tried to wrestle the gun away from the man when the gun went off. Hayfield slumped to the floor and the wounded man now pushed Eugene back and took dead aim. Then another shot rang out. The stunned man whirled around only to be shot again. It was Ray.

  Chapter 27:

  Attacked

  Armstrong got the group assembled again. The next stop would be New America. Armstrong would lead the way. He would be followed by his two sharpshooters, Wrenn and Foote; and then came Sandy, with Pamela’s body in the back seat. Eugene would follow her, driving Pamela’s car. Moore was followed by Ray and Cassandra.

  It was two hours earlier than planned, but still well after dark. They drove for the Highland barricade. There, they would shoot the guards, break the fence they assumed was padlocked, and drive to freedom. When they got there, however, they found the fence heavily fortified. Armstrong just made a right-hand turn at the fence, so as not to raise suspicions, and headed back toward the Lazy Tourist. The group pulled over to assess their situation.

  “Christ, it’s like they know everything about our plan,” Ray said.

  “Could, dare I say, one of us be a spy?” Cassandra asked.

  Armstrong mulled that one over. “The only possibilities I see would be Hayfield and Moore. Hayfield just gave his life for Eugene, and Moore nearly had his brain torched. No, I don’t think any of us are spies. I’m certain that rat lawyer, Phillips, told them about us.”

  “Still,” Cassandra said, “how did they know about tonight?”

  “It could be a coincidence,” Chad said. “Phillips knew that we know every checkpoint in front of every border. Local authorities might have decided to increase security at every checkpoint. There’s probably a bounty on our heads, and no doubt Phillips wants to claim it for himself. He probably bribed the civil patrols with part of the bounty.”

  “If what you say is true,” Eugene said, “then how will we ever get across?”

  “One thing at a time, Gene,” Armstrong said. “Let’s go to the kid crossing one.” Henry Piper told them of the crossing where the parents brought their children with them when on patrol. “If heavily fortified, we’ll pull over someplace and reassess the situation.” Everyone agreed.

  The group resumed their trip only to find the same situation. There were several additional men, and no children.

  “No question,” Ray said. “They know our plans and they’re going to block all the access points.”

  Sandy suggested trying another time, but Chad, and the others agreed that they were out of time. They would get across the border tonight or die trying. Armstrong and the other Blues got together to hammer out a final plan.

  “I believe we’ll have to get around the border fence,” Ray said. “We can use the woods to hide in. Sneak around, take out the guards, open the fence, and then drive through.”

  “Sounds like the plan,” Armstrong said. “Ray and Cassandra, you take the right woods. Me, Foote and Wrenn will take the left. Turn your phones to airplane mode. We’ll coordinate our assault by time; half hour should be enough.” They told the others of their plan and decided for an assault for exactly 11:30.

  All agreed on the plan, except Terry Foote. “You know, I’m a little uncomfortable about dividing up and then not being able to communicate with each other.”

  “The woods may be full of enemy folk,” Armstrong said.

  “All the more reason why it’s a bad idea,” Foote said. “What if one side needs help? What if they get the drop on one of us? Nobody else will know.”

  “Foote’s got a point,” Ray said.

  “But two groups have a better chance at succeeding instead of one,” Armstrong said.

  “But which groups do the civilians join?” Ray said.

  Armstrong paused to think, and then began shaking his head in agreement. “You’re right. We’ll have to stay together. I’ll take the lead. Ray and Cassandra, you lag behind. Wrenn and Foote: you take the flanks. Everyone else in the middle.”

  “We should have a scout,” Cassandra said. “I’ll volunteer.”

  “I don’t like that idea,” Ray said.

  “In most cases that would be a good idea, but not now. We should stay in close quarters,” Armstrong said.

  Everyone agreed, and the group started out, out of sight of the guards. The plan was to circle around to the back of the guards, and catch them napping. Wrenn took the north point and was the first to spot an enemy patrol. He was spotted and darted behind a tree, but the trunk was too small to offer much protection. He took his AR70 out, but then stopped. What if there are a lot more in there?

  Armstrong spotted him and knew something was wrong, and then he spotted two shadows about twenty yards ahead moving quickly through the trees. The realization that the woods were full of enemies couldn’t be denied. Furthermore, they were probably spotted. He motioned for Wrenn to come to him, and to tighten up the ranks.

  Suddenly, a shot rang out, and Wrenn instantly hit the ground. His heart was beating fast now. The bullet was so close he felt it graze the side of his cap, and he didn’t know who drew a bead on him; only that it came from a different direction than from the first guy he spotted.

  Armstrong saw that Wrenn was all right, and drew everyone else close to him. “Eugene and Senator Moore, you still have your guns?”

  “Yeah,” they both said. “Shoot only if you are close to the enemy. Each time you fire, move quickly. Don’t stay in the same position. Understand?”

  They nodded affirmatively.

  “We won’t be able to drive through now,” Armstrong said. “It’s run for the border through the woods.”

  “Ray, Cassandra, lead our troops. Foote, guard their south flank. I’m going to help Wrenn out.”

  “Shouldn’t we stay here?” Eugene said.

  “No,” Armstrong said. “The enemy may thin out the farther west you go. We’ve got to get to the border. We’ll catch up with you. Stay low to the ground and hug the trees.”

  Armstrong made his way toward Wrenn, crouching, but moving as fast as he could. Suddenly, a shot rang out from somewhere west of him and struck the leaves just behind his trailing foot. He quickly got up and scampered behind a tree as two more shots rang out. Wrenn fired back, but appeared to miss. After a minute or two, Armstrong made his way over to his buddy, and hid behind him and the tree.

  “I think there are two of them where they fired on you, and a third to the north of west—over there,” Wrenn said, pointing toward a clump of trees. “It’s a good thing they don’t have floodlights attached to their scopes or we’d be dead.”

  “I’ll run back over to where I was and draw their fire. Try to get a target and take them out. I’ll look for the third guy.”

  Armstrong dashed for the other tree, but didn’t draw any fire. Then he yelled out. “Hey you, two. Drop your guns and come out. If you don’t you’ll be dead in the next minute. We know where you’re—”

  Before Armstrong could get another word out shots from both guys rang out and Wrenn returned fire. He heard a groan and then the other guy shot at Wrenn. Armstrong returned fire, missed, and then drew fire again. Wrenn returned fire and didn’t mis
s. Both snipers were presumed dead. Armstrong then fired toward the third guy, but heard him run away. Wrenn then walked over to Armstrong.

  “I sent the others west,” Armstrong said. “Ray and Cassandra are leading the way. Let’s catch up to them.”

  “Christ.” Dennis just hung up the phone. His secretary just looked at him. She was getting used to this.

  Dennis got up and made the long walk to the boss’ office. “Come,” Casimir said. Dennis walked in, saluted, and reported that he had some bad news.

  “Jesus Christ, O’Reilly. You had every advantage. How in the hell did they get away this time? Were there any survivors?” He thought he was just mocking the past failures, and was genuinely surprised at Dennis’s answer.

  “They were all killed, sir.”

  “How many?”

  “Three, sir.”

  “Three? Goddamnit, O’Reilly. Jesus Christ! Three? Tell me you at least brought in the A-Team; the best of the best.”

  “The squad leader was McElroy, a local brigade commander. The second was an experienced man, while the third was new, but he was eager.”

  Jaydan just stared incredulously at his assistant. “Why, O’Reilly? Why settle on three morons?”

  Dennis always could gauge how much trouble he was in by whether the boss called him by his first or last name. “They were the best I could get, sir.”

  “Did you tell them about the million dollar bounty they get to share in?”

  “They weren’t very interested, sir. They said they’d need ten times as much money, and that might not be enough. One guy—an ex-Blue—told me no amount would be enough. ‘You can’t spend the money when you’re dead’. That’s the prevailing attitude.”

  Casimir was pacing the office now. “Did they get anyone?”

  “Pamela Piper went down and so did Horace Hayfield.”

  “I’m glad they at least got that bitch, Piper. No more illegal escorts out of the country. Now, give me the details of everything that happened.”

  “I don’t really have any details, since there were no survivors who were going to report in.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “We don’t know. Their plan was to take the Highland checkpoint, but they could have gone to half a dozen other checkpoints. We have several hundred volunteers all along the border with Oregon. There’s no way they won’t be seen.”

  Casimir looked like he was at his wit’s end. “No fuckups this time. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir, no fuckups.”

  “Shoot them, except for Sandy. I don’t want her dead. I want her brought back to me.”

  Dennis started to leave, but Casimir told him to wait. He was pacing behind his desk. Then he stopped and turned toward O’Reilly. “After they’re located, I want you to fly out there. I’ll make the arrangements. We’ll helicopter you out to the naval base, get you in a Fighter, and then helicoptered to their location. You can be there in two hours.”

  “Yes, sir.” Dennis saluted and left.

  It was now midnight as the Pilgrims traipsed through the woods. There was a full moon, which helped them see better, but it also made them more visible to the enemy. It was finally decided that Foote and Wrenn would take the forward positions and use rifles. Ray and Cassandra would lie back, also armed with AR’s. Everyone else used pistols.

  They weaved their way through the woods for over an hour and figured they cleared about three miles. Suddenly there was gunfire ahead, and to their right. Then, more gunfire. They figured that Foote and the enemy were trading rounds. Foote heard a shell ricochet off a tree trunk just to his left. He knew he was spotted, but where was the shooter? He yelled to his would be assailant. “Get out of here, or you will be killed.”

  Then came a distant voice. “Surrender now or I will kill you.” Foote smiled. A real pro wouldn’t give his position away.

  Foote inched closer to where the enemy was, but then shots rang out from his right, just as Armstrong arrived to help his friend out. Armstrong returned fire, but more shots rang out from several different directions.

  Meanwhile, Ray and Cassandra were pushing the civilians forward. A minute later Armstrong came back. “Keep moving forward, quickly. Ray, Cassandra,” whispered Armstrong, “close the ranks. Move fast. The woods are full of Squads and civil patrol volunteers. Mostly patrols. They’re heavily armed. They came at us from the north. I think they’re trying to force us back to the road. We’re going to have to move forward and southward.”

  They heard a noise overhead. Armstrong looked up and saw a chopper with a spotlight. The Lightning Squad clearly knew they were out here and meant to find them. Eugene and Sandy were scared.

  “They’re going to find us,” Eugene said.

  Armstrong looked at the Blues, who were signing. Wrenn said, “What an opportunity.”

  Armstrong spotted a small open area with a single tree. He looked at Wrenn with his sly smile. Wrenn made his way for the tree and then reaching into his backpack.

  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 bodie
s. 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.