Careful Measurements

by Layne D. Hansen

  “I was in the medical office waiting for a doctor. The door was cracked open so I could hear two guards talking. They said they’d been ordered to kill Jennifer Larsen if you tried to come and break her out. She always has someone with her. I don’t think you’ll be able to get to her,” the prisoner said matter-of-factly.

  Patton was silent, his jaw set tightly. His original plan was to break in, rescue his wife, and then escape through the mountains. Now, it looked like he was going to rescue everyone besides his wife. He couldn’t be one-hundred percent sure this person was right but he had to weigh the risks before making a rash decision—especially one that get his wife killed.

  As Patton considered his options, a new plan was beginning to develop. He would break these people out and take them to safety. Asher would, no doubt, come after him, but he could probably get them through the mountains in a couple days. More importantly, Asher would need to keep Jennifer alive as bait—to try to get him to come back and break her out again. After another minute of thinking, Patton’s mind was made up. He huddled the prisoners around him.

  “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.”

  The night air was getting colder. A thick, roiling fog formed in the bowl where the rear field was constructed, making it difficult for the two guards to see anything. The elements were equally bad for the guards and for Patton. Shuttling prisoners out of the building, across a field, up an embankment, and up the mountain would be difficult in optimum conditions. These were not optimum conditions. Patton headed to the office he’d originally entered through, followed by twenty-one prisoners—eleven men and ten women. He was going to leave about a dozen behind, but it was their choice, not his.

  After an internal debate, Patton removed his non-lethal ammunition from his rifle and slapped in a magazine loaded with real bullets. The guards, if alerted to their escape, would no doubt shoot to kill. He needed the firepower to fight back and to protect his new charges. According to the plan, Patton waited for the two guards to walk by. After counting to “ten alligator,” Patton opened the door and sprinted towards the base of the rise. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and bounded up the hill, his arms and legs churning, propelling him up the obstacle. He reached the top and pulled himself up, breathing heavily. He wouldn’t have time to gather himself before he had to commence the second step of his plan.

  Patton reached to his belt and unclipped a flashlight. The light had a red cover, which made it more difficult to see. Patton strained to spot the two guards. Satisfied they were too far away to see or hear anything, Patton clicked the light on and off three times. He saw the door open and ten people pour out. It was riskier to bring them out half at a time, but it would be easier to keep them all covered if the guards were to open fire.

  The group of ten made its way towards his position. A woman slipped and two men grabbed her by her arms, helping her to her feet and practically dragged her towards the hill. Patton unslung his rifle and sighted in the guards, who were all the way across the field from his position. He was tempted to signal for the other group to exit the building, but it was too risky. One of the men reached the top and he heaved himself to a flat area, fighting for air. Another man reached and then another. The first female reached the top. As two more men and another woman reached the top, a shot rang out, muffled by the thick air. Trying to figure out what had happened, Patton scoped the ground below him. One of the escapees was down on the ground, either dead or badly wounded.

  At first he thought the guards had seen them and opened fire, but when another shot was fired, Patton saw that the fire was coming from the main prison building. Another escapee went down, but before the sniper could get off a third shot, Patton scoped him in and shot them center mass. He then scanned over to see where the patrol guards were. They must have been startled by the shots because they were now both sprinting towards him. Patton took aim and knocked one down with a shot to the leg. He missed the other with his second shot, but pegged him in the shoulder with a third bullet.

  He scanned over to the left again, making sure that no one else was tracking him. Patton didn’t see anyone or hear anymore gunshots so he pulled his flashlight and signaled for the second group. When he looked down to see the first group’s progress, he was startled to see that a few of them were huddling around a downed escapee.

  “Leave them for the prison doctors!” he yelled at them. “Come on, we have to get out of here!”

  Startled by his voice, the small group looked up at him. He motioned for them to come to him and they finally started moving again. As the second group started catching up to the first, another shot rang out. Another escapee went down, screaming and holding his leg. Having been warned by Patton to keep moving, no one stopped to help the man. Patton felt horrible about that but there was nothing he could do. He had to get the rest of them to freedom.

  The second group made their way up the hill and Patton started scanning the grounds for the new shooter. Luckily, the second sniper missed with their second shot and Patton was able to spot his position. He aimed and fired. He saw a spray of blood and was satisfied he’d put the shooter out of action.

  Patton gathered what prisoners remained then and led them up the mountain, away from the prison. Three escapees were down, as were four guards. He knew that he’d just upped the ante, but he wasn’t concerned about that right now. He was more worried about his wife’s safety. The only things that would keep her alive were the fact that she was bait and Asher could use her for propaganda purposes. For now, he couldn’t let that bother him. He needed to focus and get these people to a safer place.

  CHAPTER

  29

  Of the twenty-one who attempted to escape, only eighteen made it up the hill. After hiking them away from the prison, Patton huddled them together around a small fire. Normally he wouldn’t use fire, but the morning air was cold and he had to get these people comfortable. As he scanned their faces, Patton could see fear in many and regret in others. While they were now free, many regretted leaving the relative comfort and safety of the prison. There they were fed, housed, and clothed. Here though, out in the wild, exposed to the elements, their safety was far from assured. Before taking his rabble too far from civilization, Patton gave them one last chance to reconsider and return to the prison. There was some discussion and debate, but in the end, no one wanted to go back. They had no idea what Patton had planned for them, but they figured it was better than what David Asher had planned.

  They pooled and inventoried all of their food and supplies. Most of them were poorly dressed for these conditions. Only a few of them grabbed coats and their prison-issued shoes were a generic leather loafer, far less than what they would need to transverse this rough terrain. They had very little food and camping gear, something they would need for their journey that God-only-knew how long was going to be.

  Patton was suddenly nervous and filled with regret. He scolded himself for how impetuous his move had been. Now he was responsible for the safe transit of eighteen people—not only that, he had no idea where to take them. The only thing he knew at this point was that he was going to have to get back to his camp and gather everything that was of use. Then, perhaps after a day of rest, they would strike out and make their way over the eastern hills towards the town of Portage, Utah, which was nestled against the other side of the mountain. Their internal problems were many, but their external problems were probably worse. David Asher was going to come after them with everything he had. It was going to take all of Patton’s skills to get them to safety.

  Patton finally got them moving, and after only a few short breaks, they were able to make it to his camp just before dusk. Patton had his two man tent and a large tarp that he turned into a makeshift shelter. Many were just glad to be out of the elements, but some of the others were already complaining. Patton didn’t have the heart to tell them that this leg of their journey was going to be the easiest. They would have abo
ut eight hours to rest up, eat, and drink water and then they were going to be moving out again—some time before dawn.

  As Patton began to drift off into a wary sleep of his own, he could hear the snores from some and whispered conversations from a few others. He’d given each of them an MRE, which are loaded with extra calories, and cooked a large pot of oatmeal for the group. He set his alarm for four in the morning. He would wake them, feed them, and then they were going to start on their journey.

  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 voic
es 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.

  The man who set off the claymore ran back towards the rest of the group but was shot before he could reach cover. Patton instinctively raised his rifle and scoped the canyon below him. He scoped the sniper and took him down with his first shot. Two men approached their fallen comrade and Patton shot them also. He scoped the mouth of the canyon but didn’t see anyone else coming so he turned his attention to their front position.

  As he expected, a large pickup was slowly making its way towards their line, probably a hundred yards away. Behind the truck was a skirmishing line made up of about dozen men, using the truck as cover. Patton told his people in the front to fire the claymore when their attackers were within twenty-five yards, but they were badly outmanned and outgunned. Patton had to do something quick to even out their odds.

  Deciding that the truck was the enemy’s biggest advantage, Patton took aim and shot out the front passenger tire. He took aim again and shot out the rear tire and then the front driver’s front tire. With the truck now out of commission, Patton targeted the skirmishers, who were now ducking for cover. Patton took two of them out before he started receiving return fire. He packed up his gear and made his way towards the carnage to his rear. He descended the slope about halfway. As he was about to settle into a new position, Patton heard the second claymore go off, followed by a heavy volley of gunfire. From where he stood, Patton could see their pursuers’ bullets hitting rocks and boulders, sending shards of rock shrapnel through the air.