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We open with a nostril-cam shot of Abruzzi on a stretcher. Abruzzi's looked better. On the bright side, it cures that whole diphthong problem of his. We then switch to his perspective, and inadvertently get another up-the-nose shot: this one is of the good doctor. To cue us in to the idea that Abruzzi is not doing so well, his perspective is fuzzy and faded, and Dr. Sara sounds like she's coming live from the Black Lounge. The scene drags on some more so we can see Abruzzi gasping for air and bleeding some more. Dr. Sara, apply some direct pressure!
Meanwhile, Team Escarpara practices their wind sprints. All of them haul ass over to the fence, the better to watch the guy in charge of the getaway vehicle make his own getaway, albeit not under his own power.
Abruzzi finally gets on the copter and the paramedic asks, "What's his blood type?" "Profuse" would be my guess. The medical types shout things like "A-neg!" and "His blood pressure's too low! He's definitely hypovolemic!" From the depths of the couch, the husband asks, "Isn't that when he barfs up his food? Have a positive body image, Abruzzi!" "No, no -- you've confused barfing with bleeding," I point out. Anyway, because Abruzzi's blood type is rare -- well, it is now, what with being all over everything but his arteries and veins -- he has to be flown to Chicago, a whole 20 minutes away.
As Team Escarpara watches the chopper take off, T-Bag sashays over and drawls, "And then there were six." Shockingly, the team fails to beat the living daylights out of the person who's just torpedoed their getaway on the outside. They do, however, let C-Note lip off to him.
Meanwhile, Linc's busy getting beaten by the guards, then thrown into a little tiny dark room. "This is not awesome!" Linc screams from his tiny house.
Then we transition to Warden Pope striding around the grounds looking all purposeful. Michael charges on over and asks through the fence, "Where's my brother?" Pope replies, "He's in a lot of trouble, son." Really? Someone on death row is in trouble? No! Michael says he needs to see Linc, and Pope says, "That's not a request I can grant at the moment...we're 36 hours away from his execution. He panicked. He got violent. For that reason, for the rest of his time in Fox River, we're putting him in [Administrative Segregation]. For his safety and everyone else's." For Linc's safety? Yeah, heaven forefend something should happen to someone less than 48 hours before their death. Actually...why is someone who's less than 48 hours away from death still on P.I.? You would have the worst case of short-timer's disease ever. Anyway, Michael completely forgets that he's an inmate and protests, "I'm his brother! I deserve to see him! It's my right!" Pope gets snappish, and understandably so. Michael makes the puppy-dog eyes, but those fail to melt Pope's determination. The First Church of Wentworth Miller begins the excommunication proceedings for this apostate.