The mountains to the east of the Pocatello Valley resemble a crinkled piece of paper smoothed out flat. At their widest point, they are eight miles as the crow flies. The journey would be slow going, however, with the rough terrain and little food or proper clothing. Patton’s goal was to get them across the hills to the Utah town of Portage, a place where he’d done some business. However, he’d never made this journey by foot before. He could easily make the trek by himself, but dragging almost twenty people with him would be very difficult.
Patton woke at four in the morning. He surveyed the area, making sure that no search party was onto them. Once he was sure they were safe, he started to break the camp down and cooked breakfast. Once that was done, he started to wake his ragged followers. Many grumbled at him when he tapped them on the shoulder, whispering in their ear. However, most woke quickly and began to get ready. They understood what danger they faced.
After breakfast, they gathered up as many weapons and as much equipment as they could all carry. Besides Patton’s rifle and pistol, there were four more rifles, a shotgun, five pistols, and an assortment of Patton’s homemade weapons. He was hoping they wouldn’t be needed, but he knew better. If they were going to escape David Asher’s kingdom, they were going to have to fight their way out.
A cold, drizzling rain greeted them when they broke camp. Patton scouted the area below them again. Patton assumed their pursuers would be smart enough to keep their headlights off, but anything was possible. The people who’d been dispatched to take him out had been poorly trained. He could neither see nor hear any vehicles. He gave his group the all-clear and they followed him up the steep hill.
After a half hour and a few falls, the group made the first climb. They traversed the top of the ridge and then made their way down into a large swale. They stopped for a rest, which gave Patton a chance to assess their situation. They were out of an immediate line of sight from the valley floor, which was good, but they had several things working against them. First, Patton hadn’t prepared for a large group—they didn’t have enough supplies. The bigger issue was the people’s attitude. Some of the escapees showed mental toughness, but many of them were already complaining. Patton knew from experience that mentality is more important than physical prowess. If the grumbling continued, he would have to come up with a new plan.
Patton led the way, occasionally turning back, making sure to keep his eye on the group. Many of the women and the weaker men were straggling behind. As Patton began to stop and gather his rabble together for a break he heard something. He didn’t know exactly what it was but his instincts told him to find cover.
“Spread out! Hide!” he yelled, pushing one man towards a boulder and dove towards a large dying bush to his right.
Just as he reached the safety of the shade of the bush, a helicopter rose above the edge of the hills above them, heading south-southeast. Any hopes that they hadn’t been spotted were dashed when the chopper made a wide, deliberate turn. The helicopter circled them, hovered, and then took off again, heading towards town.
“It’s got to be a police chopper,” he yelled to no one in particular. “They know where we’re at now.” Patton waved for his followers to gather around him. When the group was within earshot he said, “They know where we are. They’re going to be sending out more people to stop us.”
Panic rippled through the group. Recognizing the look of fear in their eyes, Patton fought to catch his breath and to formulate a plan.
“We have three choices,” he said, unslinging his rifle from his shoulder and checking the chamber. “We can stop and wait for them here, we can keep going southeast, or we can cut back northeast to Portage,” he said, pointing towards the small town.
The members of the group discussed the options and decided to keep moving. None of them were up for a fight. Although Patton wanted to stand their ground, he understood. None of them had ever been in an all-out firefight. He accepted their decision and put them into a new formation, this time taking the rear while putting his most reliable people up front as lead scouts.
They continued their trek through the rocky base of the canyon, many falling back as they went. Patton had to stop the group a few times to keep them all together, but he was beginning to worry that these people weren’t up for what was about to happen to them. After a short break he got them on the move again. Shortly after continuing, Patton heard the helicopter again.
“Find cover!”
Patton dropped his pack, removed his rifle from his shoulder, and handed it to a man.
“Get up front,” he said, rummaging through his pack. “If you see anyone coming shoot at them. It doesn’t matter if you hit anything, just shoot in their general direction. It’ll slow them down.”
The young man nodded and trotted towards the front of the party. Patton found his homemade claymore mine and moved towards where they’d come from. He found an ideal spot and stuck the metal legs of the weapon into the hard-packed dirt. He inserted the blasting cap and ran the attached wire back behind a large bush. He removed the trigger and attached the wire to it. Satisfied that he had it in a good position, he made his way back to where much of the group was clustered.
“I need a volunteer to do something,” he said.
After a few moments of silence a middle-aged man stood and raised his hand.
“Okay,” Patton said, nodding. “Follow me.”
Patton led the man to the bush and showed him the mine. “This is our best defense,” Patton said, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. “If you see a group trying to come up behind us, you need to pull this trigger.”
The trembling man looked at Patton, then out towards where Patton was telling him the danger would come from. He swallowed dryly, obviously nervous about what he was being tasked with.
“What will it do to them?” the man asked Patton, his eyes glistening with tears.
Patton looked away from the man, some emotion forming on his own face.
“It’ll kill some of them,” he admitted
The man nodded and looked back towards the west, shading his eyes from the now-brightening sun.
“It’s not something I want,” Patton said with sincere regret in his voice. “But these people are coming after us to kill us.”
This seemed to shock the man but he nodded and seemed to be preparing himself. He’d worked as a machinist in a shop in Ohio before coming to Blue Creek. Now a man—a man he’d voted for—was asking him to possibly kill fellow human beings.
“Okay,” the man said with emotion. “Better them than us I guess.”
Patton nodded and patted the man on the shoulder again. Satisfied that his volunteer was up to the task, Patton made his way to the front to set up another defensive position. Just as he got everyone put into the right place, he heard the rumbling of a truck’s engine.
“They’re coming!” Patton said. “You! You and you!” he said, pointing at a group of women. “Find a hiding spot!”
The women looked at him vacantly but then finally followed Patton’s order. He looked to the rear of their position and saw his conscript readying himself. He looked around to see if everyone was in place. When everything was set, Patton grabbed his hunting rifle and headed up the north slope of the canyon. After climbing for about five minutes, Patton had the perfect position. He could see in every direction. The engine noises were getting louder and closer now and Patton thought he could hear voices as well.
As Patton looked towards the east, he heard the claymore go off behind him. He’d been preparing himself for the noise, but it still caught him off guard. He looked down to see a huge puff of smoke billowing up into the sky. Once it cleared he could see the carnage that his weapon had created. About a half dozen men were rolling around on the ground, writhing in pain. A couple of them weren’t moving.