Blackened tires, the charred remains of a car; big yellow galoshes squish around burnt wreckage as investigators work the scene. Mahone’s there too, with the medical examiner. “You risk your life, break out of prison, only to end up dead at the bottom of a ditch,” the ME laments. “Kinda sad really.” But Mahone remains focused on the wreckage. “So which one of them was it?”Twelve Hours Earlier flashes across the bottom of the screen as we pan down the bulletin board at Mahone’s headquarters. The Fox River escapees’ pictures stare back at Mahone as Agent Lang approaches; “We’ve got a blanket on all the hospitals,” she tells him. “If they’ve got Band-Aids and Bactine we’ve got a body there.” She informs Mahone that if Linc and Michael come looking for medical attention they’ll be in a van on their way back to Fox River. Mahone in quires about the other six cons. Lang says they’ve got eyes and ears on the families, but so far nothing. Mahone wonders aloud, “What’s the hardest thing in the world for a con to do?” Lang doesn’t miss a beat, “Nothing,” she says. Mahone agrees, “Few things in life are certain; death, taxes, and the fact that a man on the run will make a mistake sometime in the first 72 hours. Needing distance, he’ll steal a car. Needing money, he’ll rob a store. Needing help, he’ll trust someone he shouldn’t. And when he does – he will leave behind the crumbs that will take us right to him.”
Several urgent raps on a front door, and Nika, Michael’s Ã¢â‚¬Ëœwife,’ appears. Michael supports a weak and bleeding Lincoln, “I need your help.” Inside, Michael sends Nika on a scavenger hunt; “Cayenne pepper, rubbing alcohol, towels and pain killers.” “And some booze,” Lincoln finishes. Nika hesitates, Michael’s urgent. “Please!” Nika scours the house. Michael pulls Linc’s bloody pant leg up. Lincoln takes a big swig from the bottle of vodka Nika hands him and tells Michael, “Let’s keep moving.” Michael says if they keep moving, Lincoln’s leg will keep bleeding, and they’ll never get out of Illinois. He looks his brother dead in the eye, “This is gonna hurt,” then pours rubbing alcohol directly on the gun shot wound in Lincoln’s leg. Lincoln grimaces with pain and takes another swig of vodka. Michael takes the cayenne pepper, sprinkles it on Lincoln’s leg, “this will seal the capillaries,” he says. Lincoln reels from the pain. Nika tells Michael he shouldn’t have come, that the police have already been there looking for him. Michael tells her he’s sorry, but they had no choice. Nika’s very thankful for the help with the green card, but she doesn’t want to get involved. Michael’s stressed, he knows it wasn’t part of the deal, and he’s sorry – really sorry. Nika calms, “when I saw you on the news I was worried, I hoped you’d crossed the border by now.” Michael nods, “So did I.” He finishes wrapping Lincoln’s leg, hands Nika a prescription bottle of pain pills, “Keep giving him these – see if you can find him some clean clothes.” As Nika goes off in search of clothes, Michael tells Linc he has to go back and get the car. Lincoln’s starting to feel the vodka, “forget the car, we’ll grab another.” But Michael doesn’t need Ã¢â‚¬Ëœa car’ he needs that car, inside it is everything he and Lincoln need to disappear.
Michael appears from the alley next to the hardware store, looks down the street – not a car in sight. There’s broken glass on the ground by the curb where his car should be. As Michael thinks through possible scenarios, he kneels down, picks up a piece of broken glass. His eyes wander to his wrist and the tattoo of a barcode there with the numbers 38 312 1037.
Mahone approaches Lang “what’ve we got?” Before Lang can answer, Agent Wheeler grabs the limelight, “Here you go, boss,” handing Mahone a backpack. “One of the blues hauled in a vagrant a couple of hours ago. Seems the man was in possession of an item or two that didn’t really belong to him.” Mahone dumps the backpack on the table, sifts through, pulls out two passports. One has a picture of Michael and the name Phinneas McClintock. “Passports,” says Mahone, “Looks like we got our first mistake.”
Bellick grabs a six-pack from the fridge in the liquor store as he searches for his favorite jerky. They’re out. He verbally assaults the clerk with the quasi Fu Man Chu beard- “got any of that Ã¢â‚¬Ëœoriental jerky.’ You know Teray-yacky?” Bellick’s clearly drunk, and the clerk doesn’t want any trouble – “I’ll check in the back.” On his way, the clerk passes Geary, the security guard, who’s just come back from a trip to the can. Bellick tosses off a “how goes it, Geary?” And follows it up with a right hook to Geary’s face. The pair lock eyes and it is on. Wham – Geary flies into Bellick and they go down – all fists and retribution.
All that settled, Bellick and Geary knock back a couple of beers on the hood of Geary’s car – friendly banter over fight technique. Seems Geary’s a jewel kicker; Bellick’s a biter. Hard to say who was more of a girl. All in all, says Bellick, it’s not each other they should blame, it’s those convicts. They took his job, pension, his dignity. Bellick tells Geary he’s going after the reward money; Geary says Bellick might do well to get himself a wingman. Coincidentally, Geary knows just the guy -himself.
Michael, having figured out that his car’s been towed, negotiates for its return with Chuck, a grease monkey at the tow yard. Concurrently, in the Command Center, Mahone interrogates an old street vagrant about Michael’s duffel bag – the one the vagrant found in Michael’s car. Where did he get it? Seems the vagrant smashed a car window, stole it out of the back. Guy doesn’t recall what the car looked like – when pressed, Ã¢â‚¬Ëœmaybe it was gray.’ At the towing company, Michael confirms. It was a gray Accord. Chuck asks for the license number – and we’re back in the Command Center, and the vagrant’s answering – he’s told Mahone all he knows. Mahone asks where the car is, and the vagrant says Ã¢â‚¬Ëœit ain’t gonna be there anymore. Tow truck rolled up.” Mahone wants to know – where was the car? The vagrant tells him, Ã¢â‚¬ËœI don’t know. Maybe around 15th? ” Mahone’s guys are on it.
Across the bottom of the screen, Defiance, Ohio, and Sucre on a pay phone to his old pal, Petey, in Bedford-Stuyvesant, New York. Sucre’s looking for his girl, and Petey says Sucre’s gotta forget about her; she’s getting married to Hector on Saturday. Sucre tells Petey to get Maricruz over to Petey’s apartment the following night. This will be Sucre’s one chance to change her mind. Before Petey can finish, Sucre hangs up the phone and walks over to an El Camino, smashing the window. A little hotwire and he’s mobile.
At the tow yard, Michael’s very distressed over the broken window and the backpack that’s been stolen. Chuck says it wasn’t in there when they brought the car in.
A nurse looks uncomfortable as she cuts the plastic nametag from Sara’s wrist. The nurse looks familiar to Sara; the nurse reminds her – Sara was the attending when the nurse first started at the hospital. Sara’s been released, but she’s not free to go. A couple of blues come in and cuff her. As they read Sara her Miranda rights and escort her out of the hospital, Agent Kellerman (the guy who whacked LJ’s mom and step dad) places a call to Madame President. “Caroline, they’re taking her in. Of course. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Chuck instructs Michael where to sign the release form as his phone rings; it’s Mahone. He identifies himself as F.B.I., and asks if a guy’s been there looking for a gray Honda. Chuck smiles at Michael. “Yes sir,” he says. Mahone asks him when. “Right now.”
Mahone dispatches every available body to the towing company as Chuck, slicker than he looks, turns to Michael and tells him the guy on the phone is his supervisor. Mahone yells at Chuck, “are you still with me?” Chuck smiles, turns away from Michael, “Yeah, that car might not be here by the time you get here. You better send somebody now.” Chuck must be psychic, because Michael’s grabbed the keys off the counter, and is high-tailing it out of the yard before Chuck can even blink. Mahone’s blood is boiling, as he’s told his units are still six or seven miles away from the tow yard. He abruptly pushes a stack of files from the desk. As they clatter to the floor, Mahone’s eyes come to rest on the mug shot of a nasty looking bald man named Oscar Shales whose file stares back at him. Momentarily paralyzed, Lang’s voice pulls him out of it. “We’ve got a bead on Franklin – he’s at a payphone downtown.”
C-Note’s on the payphone backpedaling with his wife, Kacee, about lying to her about serving in Afghanistan as Mahone and Lang listen in from the Command Center. Kacee wonders if C-Note was ever even in the military. C-Note says he Ã¢â‚¬Ëœserved his country and his country served him up.’ He tells Kacee he loves her and he will explain everything if she gives him the chance. Kacee wants to know one good reason why she shouldn’t turn him in right now. C-Note gives her three – him, her and their beautiful little girl. He says he has a plan to get money and get away – all of them – if she’ll just hear him out. He asks her if anyone has tried to contact her about him. She says no. He says, “That’s good. In the rainbow room, remember that beautiful spot where we took that picture – the one next to the window?” She does. He says he’s gonna be waitin’ there one week from today. And all he wants in this world is to have his girls there. But Kacee isn’t sure. C-Note begs her. Still unsure of where they stand, C-Note hangs up.
In the Command Center, Lang turns to Mahone “The Rainbow Room, that’s a restaurant in New York City.” Mahone tells her to get on it. She tells him she appreciates the assignment; Mahone doesn’t need appreciation, he needs leads, answers, progress, “Anyone can’t deliver? They shouldn’t even unpack. Clear?” Lang’s nods, she gets it. Mahone turns to Wheeler and tells him to stay on Scofield. “Get the plate numbers on the Accord and get it on the wire, now.”
Michael changes the license plates on the car as Lincoln and Nika approach. “What’s going on?” he asks. Michael replies, “Apparently I wasn’t the only one looking for this car.” Great. Lincoln climbs in the passenger seat as Michael says goodbye to Nika. She wishes him luck; he wishes her the same. Michael looks at her fondly; her eyes searching his face for something deeper. Then, Michael gets in the car, “So, I’ll see you.” Nika certainly hopes so. Michael tells Lincoln that they’re heading west, toward the money – toward LJ. And as usual, he just has one more stop to make. Lincoln asks where, Michael turns to Linc and asks if he trusts him.
Back at Fox River, Geary and Bellick coerce one of their former co-workers to let them visit Manche Sanchez, Sucre’s cousin who fell from the wall during the escape and was captured. Manche, ragged and weary, is not at all happy to see Bellick, “Look, I already told the Feds – I don’t know anything, Okay?” But it’s not okay with Bellick. He wants information on where the cons were headed and tells Manche he’ll get it anyway he can. He still has friends with influence inside Fox River and being a, “curvy man, such as yourself – well let’s just say there’s some filthy individuals who might enjoy a cellie with womanly attributes. Now you’re gonna tell me everything you know about where those convicts are headed or I’m gonna throw your fat ass to the wolves.” Manche looks like he’s gonna puke.
Wheeler hangs up the phone, turns to Mahone, “Mistake number three. Someone reported seeing a man matching Fernando Sucre’s description stealing a car.” Mahone walks over to the big map, asks Wheeler where. Wheeler takes a pin, plugs it in, “Definace, Ohio.” Wheeler folds his arms, says confidently “Someone’s going down today.” Mahone knows it’s never that simple.
Sucre’s got that El Camino pushing as fast as it will go. A little bobble-head of The Virgin Mary shakes her head no, Sucre replies, “I know mami, I know.” But that doesn’t mean he’s going to stop.
Sara’s in an interrogation room. Her father, Governor Tancredi, enters, “I paid your bail.” There’s no love lost between these two, “You took your time,” she says. As Governor, he says condescendingly, he has things to do. Sara tells him to go to hell. Doesn’t he even want to hear her side? Dear old dad replies “Not particularly. Especially when I have no idea what side you’re on. Someone is going down for what happened at Fox River. It would be in both our best interests if that person was not you. To ensure that – there are some steps to be taken. One, you will attend daily recovery meetings. Two, you will go before a judge and you will plead Ã¢â‚¬Ëœnot guilty.’ Three, you will tell the D.O.C everything you know about how that prison was run. How Warden Pope granted favors to Michael Scofield in exchange for assistance on personal projects. Thereby exposing him to restricted areas where he might have been able to obtain a key to the infirmary.” Sara says she can’t do that – she’s did it, she left the door open, her and no one else. Her father says it’s not true and that she will do as she’s told or there will be consequences for everyone. “Do you understand?” Sara nods, “Yes, sir.” He gets up to leave, as an after-thought adds, “In a week I will be appointed the new Vice President of the United States. There will be a small ceremony. You will be invited but you will not attend. Goodbye, Sara.” A guard lets him out, the door closing behind him, leaving Sara doing her best to keep it together.
Michael and Lincoln drive through a rural neighborhood. “I’ll put some music on,” Linc says, reaching for the radio dial. But Michael promptly cuts him off “No.” “Oh, right,” Lincoln remembers, “I forgot about the radio. Sure is quiet out here,” he says, “no one yelling, no guards making rounds.” Michael looks at him out of the corner of his eye, “You’re right, we should go back.” He and Lincoln laugh heartily at the idea. Lincoln’s eyes wander down to the bar code tattoo on Michael’s wrist -“the tatts weren’t just for getting out, were they?” Michael says breaking out was just the beginning, now it gets more interesting. Linc deadpans “Cause me being strapped to the electric chair wasn’t interesting enough.” Michael explains himself “inside we had the element of surprise, now…that guy, the one in the elevator?” We flashback to Mahone piecing together the pieces of the puzzle, the tattoo board, finding the hard drive in the river – “it’s like he knows where we’re going, what we’re thinking. It’s only a matter of time before he finds out about the money, Bolshoi Booze, our way into Mexico – everything.” A moment as they both ponder this, Michael breaks the silence, “You ready for this?” Lincoln replies, “Make the call.” Michael takes out a cell phone and dials, “Hey, it’s me. I’ve got Linc – we’re on our way there. If for some reason you can’t make it, call me back.”
In the Command Center, Wheeler announces he just got word from surveillance that Michael left a message on the voicemail he prepaid before he went to prison. Sounds like he was waiting for someone to check the messages, call him back. Mahone looks at the prefix, observes it was made from a cell phone, and that as long as it’s turned on they can track exactly where he is.
Sucre’s still being taunted by that bobble head on the dash, but quickly realizes he’s got bigger problems. He’s being pulled over by a motorcycle cop.
Michael and Lincoln drive, determined looks on their faces, the cell phone nestled between them. It blinks – it’s definitely on.
Sucre tries to stay calm as the patrolman approaches the car, “Is there a problem, Officer?” The officer asks him if he knows why he pulled Sucre over. “Speeding?” he guesses. Patrolman asks to see his license and registration. Sucre says he lost his wallet, digs in the glove compartment for the registration – it’s there! He hands it to the patrolman. Registration’s to a Mrs. Miller – Sucre says that’s his wife, he’s Mr. Miller. Cop says the tags are expired, goes back to his car and runs the registration. Sucre’s sweating like a pig, what’s he going to do? The Virgin Mary bobble head shakes her head with displeasure as Sucre watches through the rearview mirror as the cop talks on his squawk to headquarters.
Bellick saunters down the hall like a schoolyard bully he is, a grin on his face as Geary asks, “Did he sing?” Bellick chuckles, “Like a fat, sweaty bird.”
Through the wrought iron fence surrounding her school playground, C-Note talks to his daughter, Dede. He asks her how she is, tells her he misses her, and asks if she’s keeping her appetite up. She nods and tells him the kids at school tell her that he’s a bad man, and he asks what she thinks. She says that if she were where they wouldn’t let her see him, she wouldn’t want to stay either. C-Note smiles, tells her they’ll be together soon, and he needs her to get a message to Mommy. The message is that if she understood what C-Note told her on the phone, and she’s willing to trust daddy, she needs to turn on the porch light at seven o’clock. “Can you remember that?” She nods yes. One of the teachers notices Dede near the gate and tells her to get away. Dede reluctantly turns, but not before saying “I love you.”
Michael and Lincoln’s gray Accord finds Route 38, corresponding to the 38 in the bar code of Michael’s tattoo. “It’s not much further now,” Michael says, resetting the trip odometer to zero.
Not too far behind them, Wheeler pilots a black SUV with Mahone in shotgun, tracking Michael and Lincoln on a GPS. “They’ve moved off the interstate, heading north on route 38,” Wheeler says. Mahone’s cell rings. They’ve found Sucre. Mahone tells the caller to contact local authorities, make it clear that they want Sucre alive. “Dead men can’t tell us where the crumbs are.”
Sucre watches as the train crossing gates in front of him begin to lower, and a passing train begins its slow crawl through the intersection. He glances back at the cop – gets the sinking feeling he’s been fingered. The cop hangs up from the squawk, pulls his gun and walks toward the car, “Mr. Miller. I’m going to have to ask you to put your hands outside the vehicle, please.” There’s no response from the car. The cop’s sweating now. “Hands where I can see them, Mr. Miller.” As the cop approaches the car he points his gun inside. But the car’s empty. A half a dozen yards away, Sucre tears through a cornfield dead set on catching a ride on that train.
Back on the road, Michael watches the car’s odometer reach twelve, the same number tattooed on his bar coded wrist. He turns to Linc, “You ready?” Lincoln nods. Michael puts the car into a tailspin, as it screeches to a stop in front of the guard railing on a rural bridge. The pair climb out and Michael checks the rail – it’s loose. “This is the one,” he says. They easily unscrew the loosened bolts to the piece of railing, looking over their shoulders. “Do you see him?” asks Michael. “Nope,” replies Linc, “Maybe he didn’t get your message.”
Not far behind on Route 38, Wheeler tells Mahone that Michael and Linc have stopped. Wheeler wonders aloud “they’re in the middle of nowhere, what are they waiting on?” Mahone postulates, “Or who?”
Michael and Lincoln take bags of blood and bone from out of the trunk and walk towards the front of the car.
Wheeler and Mahone’s SUV is stuck behind a farm vehicle monopolizing their lane. They put the police-cherry on the dash, siren wailing, and haul ass around the tractor, just narrowly missing oncoming traffic.
Back on the bridge, Michael wedges a cane between the accelerator and the back of the driver’s seat. He puts the bags of blood and bone on the passenger’s seat, checks the cell phone – it’s on. “Just one more thing,” he says. And we flash back to where Michael asks Lincoln if he trusts him. This time Lincoln’s allowed to answer, “Of course.” Michael asks, “How do you throw a hunter off the scent?” Lincoln knows the answer to this, “Get rid of the prey.” Back in real time, Michael turns on the car radio – glances at his wrist and the last four digits of his bar code tattoo – 1037. “After we hit scan,” he explains, “we’ll have about 30 seconds before it reaches 103.7. And then she blows.” Linc hits scan, they put the car in gear and it careens over the side of the bridge. Linc and Michael hit the road at full tilt. But no big boom occurs – they have to go back, fix it. No sooner than they reach the car, they hear sirens, “He’s here,” Michael says. Lincoln climbs inside the car, locates the radio stuck on 102.1, turns to Michael, “How many radio stations between 102.1 and 103.7?” Michael replies, “Out here? One. Probably.” Lincoln presses scan.
Wheeler and Mahone round the bend when KABOOM! A fireball races into the blue sky, painting it with thick black smoke.
Bedford-Stuyvesant, NY – Petey opens his low-rent apartment door to insistent knocking. Sucre plows into the room, wants to know where Maricruz is. Petey says he tried to tell Sucre, but he hung up too fast – Maricruz and Hector are getting married in Vegas. Sucre’s inconsolable until he sees the keys to Petey’s motorcycle hanging on a hook on the wall. Over Petey’s protestations, Sucre takes the keys, mounts the bike. Petey tells Sucre he looks like hell, Sucre replies, “I’ve been through hell, Papi. Now I just got to get to Vegas.”
“Hi, I’m Sara and I’m an addict.” The group welcomes the doc and applauds. Next to her, Agent Kellerman, all dressed down and humble, “Hello, my name is Lance and I’m an addict.”
And we’re back where we started, a charred car in a ditch – the ME wondering “which one was it?” Mahone – mid-flashback of Oscar Shales mug shot – says “Shales.” The M.E. asks, “Who?” Mahone corrects himself, “Scofield. I meant Scofield.” Wheeler approaches the M.E. as Mahone walks away, “probably going to find Scofield’s brother in there too.” Wheeler glances back at Mahone, says quietly to the M.E. “Oscar Shales – he’s this guy Mahone tracked for awhile. Nasty little bottom feeder. You know the type. He’s still in the wind.” The M.E. observes, “You can’t get them all, right?” But like Shales, Scofield is getting to Mahone. He takes out his beautiful black pen, unscrews the bottom and taps two pills into his hand.
Michael and Lincoln make it to the top of a rocky precipice, Michael dusts himself off, turns to Lincoln. “We should have a pretty clear path to Utah now, they’ll turn their attention on the other guys for awhile.” Lincoln knows the cops’ll get labs back and realize it wasn’t them in the car. “We’ll be in Mexico by then,” says Michael. Lincoln’s still skeptical, “provided our ride comes through.”
C-Note watches his house, waiting for that porch light to come on. Inside, Kacee watches Dede sleep in her room. Her eyes wander to a rainbow painted on the wall, down to a picture of the entire family hung next to the window. She hears C-Note’s voice in her head “In the rainbow room, remember that beautiful spot we took that picture, the one next to the window? I am going to be waiting in that spot one week from now.” She glances at the clock, 7:03pm, three minutes later than the time she was supposed to turn on the light. C-Note’s about to give up, then the light comes on. He smiles. Inside the house, Kacee steps away from the light switch at the sound of Agent Lang’s voice, who’s seated on the couch. “So, you said you have some information about your husband you wanted to tell me.”
Behind the rock Lincoln and Michael just climbed, a car rolls up. It’s Nika. Michael takes the keys from her and says he owes her another one. He tells her that once they get to Mexico he’ll send her ten thousand dollars for everything she’s done – and another three thousand for the car. Nika nods, but we sense there’s more to her trip here then just money. “Are you going to meet up with her? The doctor lady,” she asks. Michael says he doesn’t know. Michael thanks Nika again, and they all pile into the car and take off.
A few yards away, a beat-up old car idles; the two guys inside watch the brothers. It’s Bellick and Geary. “I knew the little whore would lead us right to Ã¢â‚¬Ëœem,” Bellick proudly gates. Geary nods and puts the car in drive. The game afoot.
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