That thought had never occurred to Bao, but he realized that Patton was right. No matter. They had to do what they could.
“We need to try,” Bao said with conviction. “I think they’re going to start putting us all in that big prison,” he said, pointing up towards the eastern hills where David Asher’s monstrosity was being built. “I’d rather go down fighting than go there,” he said, not realizing that was where he was held captive.
Patton smiled and nodded at that. “That’s the spirit, kid,” he said and got up to start the boat’s motor.
PART FOUR
REBELS
CHAPTER 25
As much as it was possible, life began to return to normal. Asher’s new restrictions on travel outside Blue Creek initially had a chilling effect on the citizenry, but again, it became something that people got accustomed to. More difficult was the constant presence of police and Blue Creek Security agents. Not only did they patrol the hills that surrounded the valley, but they also roamed around downtown. Many of them were armed with pistols. Though the prison wasn’t completed yet, it had its first “visitors.”
Two families, who had been neighbors since the experiment began, went into the eastern hills to hike and camp. They struck camp in the middle of the night and tried to make their way through one of the many low passes that leads through to the other side of the mountains. They were caught by a roving patrol of security guards. The parents were arrested and became the first occupants of the prison, which was becoming the symbol of all that was wrong with Blue Creek. The children were placed in the care of the city. There were even news stories that showed how compassionate Governor Asher was towards the kids, who had so obviously been led astray by their parents.
But it wasn’t just the story about the family that tried to escape—the media was in protection mode 24 hours per day. They published puff pieces about Asher and other government officials. Those who suspected collusion between the town’s TV stations, newspapers, and news websites were right. Editors from the many media outlets had weekly meetings with the government to coordinate future messaging. Charlie and Anna would have been proud, Asher thought. If not proud per se, they would have to be impressed. The governor couldn’t imagine his former cronies could have done any better. The wounds from the recall election and Mike Wilson’s assassination still hadn’t closed, but Asher could feel that the city was starting to move past it. Things were starting to ebb.
Perhaps most important was how quiet Patton Larsen had been. He’d removed his blog site from the intranet. He no longer wrote op-eds for the papers or appeared on the news. He’d basically become a non factor in Blue Creek politics. Asher was worried that Larsen was up to something. Those worries would have to go to the backburner, however. He had a city to run.
In early September Frank received a call from his oldest son. He’d returned to Blue Creek to handle some problems with his business, but he was scheduled to return to his wife’s side a month later.
“She’s fading, Dad. You better come home.”
Frank had already packed a bag for this inevitability. On his way out of town he stopped by Patton’s farm. Patton heard his car pull up and watched his friend walk to his door. Frank looked defeated. He could see that the news wasn’t good. Jennifer answered the door and invited him in. Frank hesitated, thinking he’d better get back on the road, but he stepped in the door, his head hung low. With his large fingers interlaced in front of him, Frank looked at Jennifer and Patton in turn. He started to speak but only a sigh escaped. Jennifer went to Frank and hugged him. Apparently her touch was the last straw. They both broke down and began to weep. Huge tears rolled down Patton’s face and he stepped in to hug his friend.
When he regained his composure, Frank said, “Thanks guys. You were the best thing that ever happened to us.”
Patton waved it off, but Frank nodded sincerely.
“Shontae loved you Jennifer,” he said, taking her dainty hand in his. “You made her feel like she was just one of the girls. I don’t think she ever felt that way before. And you, Patton, you helped me so I could spend more time at home with her. That meant a lot to her.”
There was another round of hugs and Frank walked out to his car.
A week later, on the day that Shontae died, Frank called and broke the news to them. The funeral would be held later that week. Frank would return a week after that, he told them.
“You’re coming back?” Patton asked, surprised.
“Yeah. My kids are okay. I need to get back to where Shontae was the happiest. Besides,” he said, and Patton could hear the twinkle in his voice, “you’re going to need me for what you have planned.”
“Planned?” Patton asked, his eyebrows raised. “And what is that exactly?”
Frank chuckled and said, “Well, I don’t know exactly, but I know you. You, my friend, have always got something cookin’ up in that head of yours.”
Patton laughed. “You’re right,” he said, “I’ll tell you all about it when you get home.”
“Sounds good, buddy,” Frank said, and hung up.
As he often did after work, Patton took the long way around the lake to his house in the eastern hills. He’d caught himself daydreaming a few times, almost running off the road. He thought of his first wife, his kids, his mother. He thought of Mike and Shontae and hot tears stung at his eyes. He wiped at them awkwardly, fighting to keep a clear view of the road.
Patton continued to speed along the highway, gazing down towards the beautiful town below.
This experiment could have been a great experience for everyone involved, he thought. The organizers had given thousands of people an opportunity to have a life they couldn’t before. People who once lived in trailers and apartments now had homes to call their own. They had yards and fences and nice cars. If they’d played their cards right they could have perpetual wealth.
But then there were people who had to have control—people who have to have their ideas heard and their egos appeased. Patton never understood the impulse. The desire to control others through political means was psychotic and something he couldn’t explain, let alone understand. He shook his head and forced these thoughts out of his head. His mind turned to his recent vacation. He and Jennifer hadn’t made it far. They were supposed to go to California to visit their respective families, but Patton changed their itinerary. Instead, they loaded up his truck and headed south the Salt Lake City. On the way there he made a special stop.
Patton smiled when he recalled the look on Michael Varner’s face when he opened his door and saw Patton on the front porch. Confusion turned to recognition, which quickly turned to shock. Patton Larsen, the legend of Blue Creek, was standing on his front porch. Varner invited him in and led him to a large study at the back of his house. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for what seemed forever. Varner glared at Patton, who gazed around the office, admiring the beautiful wood trim, the stylish desk, and the shelves full of books.
“Mr. Larsen, no offense, but what the hell are you doing at my house? This is clearly out of bounds for a resident. Hell, you’re not even supposed to know who I am and where I live,” Varner said finally.