The episode begins with Manche on the ground, right to the wall everyone climbed over, and he's begging for his life. The COs are looking for an excuse to kill him: one cocks a gun and asks, "Who was with you?" and when Manche says, "Nobody," the CO says, "Nobody, huh? I swear to God, I'm going to snap your neck right here." Manche tries to hold out, but the CO has actually managed to find his trachea and is squeezing it as he barks, "Names! I want names." Manche grunts out the roster, and we flash back to each of them: "Scofield, Burrows, Sucre, that Vanilla Ice kid, Bagwell, C-Note, Abruzzi and that bug-eyed J-Cat." Itching for an excuse to feel someone's fragile little vertebrae popping between his fingers, the CO screams, "Was there anybody else? Was there anybody else?" Manche finally admits to Westmoreland.
Cut to Pope striding into the clinic, where barely controlled chaos reigns. Someone is examining Mr. "I don't get paid to be a hero," which is kind of amusing as a little background detail. Pope gets the news that eight guys made it over the wall, and he walks over to the clinic window to glare out. Then his gaze falls, and we see what I can only assume is the very dead Westmoreland. His eyes are open, and his face set in mournful resignation. R.I.P., Silver Fox. You will be missed.
But not by any of the inmates, as they're all too busy going wild with glee over the escape. They're all shredding their toilet paper and flinging it around, which seems pretty short-sighted because I'm guessing that the place is about to go on round-the-clock lockdown, and nobody's going to be wheeling around household supplies. Pope charges toward Michael and Sucre's cell. When he sees the toilet loosened away from the wall, he reels. When he watches the inmates squeezing the Charmin, he looks disgusted; it's like he's imagining his career being shredded like so much refuse. Just then, the anti-Pope comes up and tells him that Bellick's finally been unearthed.
And boy, howdy, is he pissed. His first words are not, "Thank you," or "I hope the john's free," but rather, "Hand me my shotgun." I love it -- that Bellick is all possessive of a firearm, and that other people are all, "That's Bellick. He loves his rifle. He usually calls it Bessie, but I guess tonight, he's too angry to be loving to Bessie." Then Bellick steps into some convenient, dramatic lighting and vows, "Those piles of crap don't know what they just did. They signed their death warrant!" Then he holds out a hand for Bessie, avers, "Every last one of them," and locks and loads his ladylove.
We then get a really dramatic shot of the COs marching out of the gate as Pope vents via bullhorn, "When those men went over the wall, they made a choice. And that choice makes them a threat to society once again. As many of you know, some of those men are convicted killers. Our job is to protect and ensure the safety of the general population. That means if we have to bring them down to ensure the safety of the population, then by God, we will do it! This time we're playing for keeps, gentlemen. It's been at least 12 minutes since they went over the wall. That's one mile on foot. If they've got their hands on a vehicle, they could be ten miles from here, so let's get moving!" Pope's so angry, he's called down rain. It'll be a long, wet night.
The COs scamper away. Crouched in a low gully and covered by some underbrush not 20 yards away, Team Escarpara watches everyone take off. C-Note says nervously that they've got to roll, but Michael say, "We don have to do anything but wait here and let them get ahead of us." Sucre says nervously, "I don't know if we're going to get a chance, Papi." The dogs have come out. Assorted team members panic, and Michael tells them all to just stay still. The men freeze like rabbits. Michael smugly whispers, "They can't smell us." However, dorkus, they can see you, and when they do, the dogs go a little nuts. The handlers come over to the bushes, flip on a flashlight, and --
Commercials! Is anyone going to even notice commercials with all the tension from cutting out at suspenseful moment? I mean, I barely noticed that Wolverine was on screen, that's how tense I was.
We come back to a repeat of the COs shining the lights on the underbrush as they walk toward it. They don't see anything, probably because Team Escarpara's hauling ass through the woods. I'd give you more details on who's running in what order, but this episode is not what you'd call "well-lit."
We then go to a pitch-black screen and the caption, "Highway 15." If you say so, mysterious text dispenser. I've never known you to lie to me before. In fact, mysterious text dispenser, it appears you've expanded on our brief acquaintance, because you've just told me this is "Just Outside of Great Falls, Montana." Because you think so highly of me, mysterious text dispenser, I will not hoot derisively at the prospect of Veronica catching one of the many, many flights that depart from Chicago and land right to Highway 15 in deepest, darkest Montana. I'll only think it. Veronica is leaving Nick a chatty voicemail message about where she is and why she's tracking down clues about the house and Terence Steadman, and all I have to ask is, does she not remember that Nick tried (ineptly) to kidnap her? That if the mob is so ruthless as to want her, they might actually track her down? And that she's on the run from conspiracy goons, so if they find out where she is, they might actually track her down? (Apparently, I had to ask a lot.) I mean, I've been cutting her a lot of slack because she's been under stress and all, but this is spectacularly stupid even for Veronica. Anyway, Veronica's message falls on deaf -- no, make that DEAD -- ears, as we get a shot of her voice ringing out through Nick's still apartment and Nick's body slumped on the floor with a tidy bullet hole in the forehead. Like Westmoreland, he's also got a peaceful, resigned expression.
Meanwhile, back at Madame Vice President's office, she is busy snarling at Brinker, "Soft money makes the world go around. You know it and I know it. You cut my funding, and I can't run a proper campaign without it." Brinker lies that there was a lot of internal debate over cutting Madame Vice President loose, and adds, "And there's every chance you could win on your message, and it would certainly be our loss --" "Oh, cut the crap," Madame Vice President snaps. She is not taking the breakup well. Brinker glories in being the bigger person, saying with exaggerated cordiality, "I came here to express our gratitude for all that you've done for us, and to let you know this isn't personal. Surely you've been in politics long enough to know that." Madame Vice President has also been in politics long enough to develop a decent bullshit meter. She says, "I'm a grown woman. How about you give it to me straight?" Brinker looks delighted by the prospect, and says, "The bottom line, Madame Vice President, is that you can't effect change in the Oval Office. And that is what we need the most -- certitude. Simply put, you can't get things done." Madame Vice President knows it'll be a bad idea to blurt, "Oh, yeah! I've managed to fake my brother's death and kill the guy who -- he what? When? ...Never mind." She just hisses, "Maybe you don't know me so well." Brinker snorts in a way that makes it abundantly clear that she knows Madame Vice President as well as she cares to. As she heads out, she suggests that Madame Vice President should make a graceful exit from the presidential races, or else the One World Conspiracy will have to find the time to do it for her in between strong-arming the U.S. Senate to raise FCC indecency fines to $325,000 per offense and deciding to let everyone in on Jimmy Hoffa's secret burial location.
Team Escarpara's now barreling down a hill. The guys run through a barbed-wire fence that Linc's holding open. Tweener happens to snag his hand on a wire and makes a big show of saying, "Ow!" as he holds his hand. I note this now so none of us are surprised when he develops lockjaw in the season two premiere. Linc then grabs Haywire by the collar and barks, "Take your suit off -- you're glowing in the dark." A startled Haywire protests, "But I only have my skivvies on --" "Take your suit off!" Linc orders. Haywire heads off and Linc says to Abruzzi, "We gotta do something about that freak." Abruzzi says, "You got it -- now hurry up."
More dark-n-chaotic shots. I believe there are bodies, and I believe they are upright and perambulatory. Anything beyond that is a mystery. Everyone stops at the edge of a clearing; all eight guys practically pile on each other. I wonder how much time the director spent trying to come up with a way to frame all the guys in that shot? Everyone looks over at the barn and C-Note designates himself as group spokesman with, "Eye-Tie, where in the hell is the van?" Abruzzi gargles, "O ye of little faith." Everyone scampers for the barn and sure enough, there's a van there. Abruzzi orders Linc, "Behind the wheel, Cro-magnum." Hey! There's evidence suggesting the Cro-magnums were gentle, sophisticated hominids that were driven to extinction by the more nasty H. sapiens. What are you trying to say about Linc there? That he's secretly sophisticated?
The boys all scramble for the van, and Haywire's all excited to be sitting shotgun. Michael smashes the van's taillights, and Tweener asks, "What the hell are you doing?" "I'm getting us invisible," Michael replies. Tweener has been leaning on the barn. When he gets up, we see that he's left a bloody handprint. Is there nothing that kid can't screw up?
When Abruzzi gets in the car, Linc asks him all panicky-like where the keys are, and Abruzzi replies, "I told you, they're in the plastic garbage can by the trees." Linc turns to Haywire and says, "What are you waiting for?" Before he can figure out what's going on, Haywire finds himself hopping out of the car and heading away from the van. T-Bag smoothly slides into place right to Michael. As Haywire frantically searches for the keys outside, Abruzzi hands over the set, and Team Escarpara ditches him. Haywire looks honestly hurt for a moment, but quickly becomes angry, screaming, "No! No! Noooo!" He then runs off, looking panicky.
Back in the prison, it's all very busy, and Pope is touring the facilities and picking up slack. I wonder if it's totally slipped his mind that he was supposed to be celebrating a big wedding anniversary tonight, or if that's running through the back of his mind all, GODDAMIT, that punk-ass punk worked on my gift for months, he KNEW my anniversary was tonight, he BETRAYED me, the INCONSIDERATE little punk couldn't have waited ONE DAY before escaping, but noooo, he had to ruin my ANNIVERSARY... Anyway, the point of this scene is to ladle out some exposition: there's a lockdown at all the major regional airports; the escapee's relatives now have their phones tapped (and this is different from the rest of us in America how?) and houses under surveillance; and the security dudes have just figured out that the clinic door was unlocked. An orderly angrily says, "I don't see how that's possible. These doors are locked down every night when we leave. It's priority number one. The only thing I can think is that someone left it open for them." Pope looks extremely pissed by this possibility. Gosh, Stacy Keach does a great slow burn.
We get a shot of Fitz drive (remember its mention in the tattoo?) and the van speeds down the quiet road. We see that T-Bag and Michael are sharing the bench seat in the middle; Linc is in front with Sucre riding shotgun, and the remaining Team Escarpara members are in the back seat. As he fumbles under his shirt for something, T-Bag asks with elaborate casualness, "John, I have to ask why you insisted Lincoln drive while you take that particular seat in the back?" Well, that would be because Abruzzi's got a wee little pistol and he's positioned it so he can shoot T-Bag quickly. As T-Bag asks, "What is it exactly that you've got up under there, huh?" we see that he's put one half of his purloined handcuffs on his left wrist. In an instant, he's snapped the other bracelet on Michael's right wrist. Michael screams in startled fury, "What the hell are you doing?"
Abruzzi has the gun against T-Bag's temple and he asks, "Do you think that's going to stop me?" T-Bag points out, "You shoot me, Pretty here is going to be dragging around 170 pounds of dead Alabama flesh with him. And considering how much you need him to get this little Fibonacci vendetta of yours, huh? I just don't think you're going to pull that trigger." The camera flashes to Linc, who is wearing his "Don't Make Me Turn This Car Around!" expression. Michael rattles his bracelets and looks at T-Bag with impotent fury. Abruzzi cocks the hammer on the gun --
And we go to commercial break again. You know, I truly do love Wolverine, but even I am getting a tad bored with all the commercials for the new X-Men movie.
When we come back, Michael is saying, in a voice thick with loathing, "You're going to give me the key to those cuffs, T-Bag, you son of a bitch!" That's when T-Bag grins and reveals the key clenched between his teeth. He swallows it, and both Michael and Abruzzi begin shaking him, shouting, "Spit it out." Why can't Michael just make him barf like he did Haywire a few episodes ago? There are, what, three other men in the car who aren't doing anything but taking in a free show -- they can restrain T-Bag so Michael can gag him, right? Linc still has that look like "If you kids don't stop fighting and stay on your sides of the sear right now, I will turn this car around and you will be sorry!" T-Bag swallows it and grins impishly, "Ooops." Michael goes to have himself a good sulk.
And now, my trusty friend, the mysterious text dispenser, is telling me that we're in Washington, D.C., in the world's most stylish chemistry lab. Two men are present; we see them only in shadow, one standing and one sitting. The seated guy says, "They drink this, it's only a matter of minutes. This glycoside-saxitoxin hybrid goes to work in the blood stream instantly. Five minutes is the outside limit (that) even the strongest cardiac muscles can continue to function. After that, massive cardiac arrest with no chance of survival." A lighter male voice asks about the possibility of a tox screen, and the seated scientist says, "Nothing. Death will appear to be from natural causes." While this whole exchange is going on, we're getting interweaving shots between the lab and Madame Vice President working. The easy and obvious conclusion is that the One World Conspiracy found time between eliminating the San Jose Sharks from the Stanley Cup chase and setting the global price for oil to find a way to take out Madame Vice President. The two dudes in the lab ponder this marvelous molecule, and the scientists dude says, "This is high treason. You know that, don't you?" The other guy -- whom we see only in profile, but seems somewhat familiar if excessively concealed by glass tubing -- only inclines his head in recognition.
We go from a shot of the sour-looking Madame Vice President to a sour-looking Bellick, who has found the bloody handprint Tweener left on the barn wall. He orders the canine guy to get the scent of the blood, then heads over to ponder the pieces of shattered taillight left behind. The anti-Pope brings over a local who works as a caretaker on the property. The caretaker says he saw a blue van parked on the property. Bellick asks, "You didn't think to report it to the authorities?" "No, because I totally thought the bumper sticker 'These cons are pros at escaping!' was a joke,'" the guy shoots back. Sort of. Bellick shoves him in disgust. I wonder if that's how he ends bad dates t-- wait. Who says Bellick actually goes on dates?
In the carload of cons, T-Bag's practicing his best psycho hillbilly looks while Abruzzi says, "If you think I won't cut you myself to get that key, you're in for a big surprise." T-Bag coolly drawls, "I encourage you to remember the last time you came at me with a knife." Oh, Robert Knepper. What must it be like to look at a script and decide, "Here -- yes, here is where I will pick up the scene and put it in my pocket and walk off with it"? After a line like that, Michael's screamed, "Shut up! Both of you! Shut up! We can settle this in Mexico" seems sort of wussy-boy and lame. Sucre looks back -- I imagine the sight of Michael screaming in anger is something of a novelty. Linc looks like he's about ready to snap, "If I have to stop this car..." He settles for asking how far it is to the airstrip. It's five miles. C-Note pops up from wherever he's been stashed and mutters threateningly in Abruzzi's ear about how the plane better be there. Abruzzi could not care less what C-Note thinks.
My little sans serif friend! We're where? At the Goose Park Airstrip? And it's how far away from Fox River? Ten miles? Okay, mysterious text dispenser -- thank you. You can go now. The pilot's getting nervous about the prospect of taking off, with the cops everywhere. Maggio's getting nervous because he's running out of snacks.
Back in Fox River, Pope's grilling Nurse Gossipson: "You're saying you don't know anything about this?" She doesn't. Pope protests, "The door was left open, Katie!" and she replies with some exasperation that it wasn't her. Pope asks, "Then who was it? Only you and Dr. Tancredi were left at the end of the night. The orderly confirmed that!" Nurse Gossipson is clearly in a rough spot, but repeats that it wasn't her. Pope says quietly, "Then you're telling me it was Dr. Tancredi." "No!" Nurse Gossipson says vehemently. She then catches sight of Pope's expression -- the hurt he's evidently feeling that something in this escape can be linked to his employees -- and she clams up. Pope then puts on the full-court press, reminding her that if she's sitting on information, she could be charged as an accessory to the crime, should he feel like it. And he feels like it. Nurse Gossipson says reluctantly, "Sara...Sara had a thing for Scofield." Which you encouraged! So I hope part of that guilty expression is linked to you remembering that, Katie Gossipson. Pope deflates visibly, but thanks Nurse Gossipson.
Meanwhile, in the carload of cons, Sucre's carrying on all, "I just want to put my hand on her belly." Well, Michael's looking like he wants to put a fist through your teeth, so tone it down, Papi. Linc speaks up, saying calmly, "We got trouble." There's a blockade ahead, and there's cars coming behind them. Linc kills the lights, and there's a hasty confab: they've got to get off the road, but this is the only road leading to the airstrip. C-Note contributes in his own inimitable way -- i.e. making sullen threats -- and Michael gets the bright idea that perhaps they can drive around the roadblock through the woods. Excellent! What could be easier than driving through unfamiliar, unpaved terrain at night without headlights?
Michael snarls at T-Bag that they'll be getting the key from him if they have to make him crap it out. I just don't get why they don't restrain T-Bag and make him vomit. T-Bag snaps, "You got a foul mouth sometimes, Pretty." Right then, we see that the van's gotten stuck in some mud.
My little mysterious text friend missed me so much, it came back to tell me that we're in D.C. More specifically, we're in a kitchen in D.C. But which one? O, mysterious text friend, why have you left out key details? The upshot is, we see a set of hands wheeling a cart full of bottled water through the kitchen. A secret service dude confirms that's the water for the speech, and then, after the cart wheeler flips out his secret service badge, tells him to go ahead and set up the platter with the water for the speech tonight. We don't know who these guys are at all -- just that there's ominous music. And we're supposed to think, "Gosh, the vice president had been scheduled to give a speech tonight! And the One World Conspiracy wants to kill Madame Vice President! And two strangers have some secret poison they're going to use to commit treason!" And then we're supposed to marinate in suspense, since there's apparently nothing else to keep us on edge tonight.
Carload of cons. The same crew of guys who were routinely flinging around sacks of concrete and digging holes and doing weighty manual labor whilst on PI cannot collectively push a van out of the mud. The guys decide they'd rather jog at this point. As everyone heads out, Michael stops Tweener and says, "That's as far as you go, my friend." Tweener's all, "What?" and Michael tells him, "We had a deal, remember? You and I, we're not bros. I don't think you want me telling the guys what I know. Now walk." Tweener looks like he's about to burst into tears, but he backs away. T-Bag has been drinking all this in, but now he pipes up and says, "We got trouble, Pretty." I like how the nickname use has come back. Someone's obviously feeling like he's on top of the situation here. Tweener and T-Bag begin running hard before the cops they see canvassing the area with flashlights can find them. They catch up with the others, and we hear the thudding purr of a helicopter's blades overhead. Someone -- I think it's Lincoln, but I can't tell because this whole damn episode was shot in the dark, and a bunch of semi-bald guys in prison blues all look alike in no light -- hangs back and counts the guys as he urges them forth. I'm going to pretend it's Linc, making sure Michael and his 170-pound wrist accessory are caught up. Everyone crashes through the underbrush, panting desperately, trying not to look at the helicopter bearing down overhead. They all reach the lip of a disused stone quarry at the same time; T-Bag pinwheels his arms so he's not sent over the edge. And we go to commercials with the helicopters bearing down and the cons all asking, "What now? What do we do now?"
Commercials. If there was a way to digital remove Jennifer Aniston from that movie The Breakup, like someone did with Jar-Jar Binks in The Phantom Edit, then maybe I'd consider seeing the movie for John Michael Higgins. Maybe.
The cons are pressed against the side of the quarry, balanced precariously on a ledge so they're not immediately visible on the ground. We get a shot of the helicopter zooming overhead and a voice announcing on the radio that he's got contact. This is C-Note's cue to break out one of his usual spirit-lifting pep talks. He yells, "It's coming back, y'all! It's coming back! Make yourself small. There's no way we're going to make two miles like this, especially with that bird up there!" You know, C-Note, if what you have to say isn't very helpful, perhaps you shouldn't say it at all. Be like Sucre, who's just spotted a car to a mobile home at the bottom of the quarry and says he's got a way to make this work.
We then zoom over to a pretty white clapboard farmhouse on the middle of a well-tended patch in the middle of nowhere. There's a girl who looks to be about middle-school-aged in the garage, working on the complex process of attaching playing cards to the spokes of her bicycle wheels. She smiles in satisfaction at the papery clatter. Behind her, Haywire watches through the window. This whole scene simply smacks of the set-up in Con Air, where batshit-crazy serial killer Garland "The Marietta Mangler" Greene has a tea party with a little girl. I can't be bothered to feel any tension here.
Or here, where we establish that it's finally come to the attention to the air traffic controller at the Goose Park Airstrip that there's an unidentified aircraft on the strip. The pilot and Maggio lie unconvincingly about having engine trouble, and there's about a microsecond of will-he-or-won't-he?-style tension with Maggio fondling his gun, but the whole scene ends with a fizzle. The controller walks away from the thugs, then quietly slips a cell phone out of his sleeve and makes a call, saying quietly, "I got an unidentified aircraft out here at Goose Park. You better have a look at it. Tail number's 986-delta..."
Sucre's sitting behind the wheel of the car; Linc comes up to him and asks how it's going. "Just let Papi work a little bit of his magic, okay?" Sucre replies. Hee! Linc asks if Sucre knows what he's doing and Sucre says happily, "You kidding me? Hot-wiring this thing is like hot-wiring a toaster. Now if it were an Acura or a Chinese car, that's a whole different story." We get an exterior shot; there's frost on the car's windows and Linc's breath is coming in puffs. Sucre continues babbling, "Ignition, computer chip, forget it. But no, we're good."
The rest of Team Escarpara is left to entertain themselves. Michael and T-Bag are watching the play of moonlight on the quarry lake. Abruzzi is watching T-Bag. C-Note comes over and sits to Michael, asking him, "Yeah, you know, what they got in Mexico anyhow?" According to a few of our congressional representatives, lots of people who wouldn't mind living and working in the U.S. Michael asks C-Note if he's ever been, and C-Note replies, "I ain't never been nowhere except for Iraq, Chi-town and Fox River." He then asks T-Bag what he's looking at, and T-Bag sensibly directs his gaze elsewhere instead of chipping in with his own travelogues. C-Note continues, "Look, man, is it a place where you could have a family?" Michael replies blandly, "Lots of families down there, so I hear." C-Note elucidates: "I think you know what I'm talking about. For a black man, an American man, with a family." Michael asks, "So that's the plan? They're going to meet you down in Mexico?" C-Note replies, "Yeah. It's worse than not seeing them. And I can't do that no more." Michael replies, "Not much of a life for them." C-Note says with feeling, "But it'll be a life! I'm telling you, Snowflake, ain't no way in hell I'm leaving them behind." Michael looks impressed by this. I personally find this conversation very interesting because it's like C-Note's making the exact opposite decision Pa Burrows did; the compare-and-contrast between the two fathers may be food for plot in season two.
Abruzzi's joined Linc at the car. I find this pretty interesting too, because it's like the born loners gravitated to the lake (C-Note and Michael) while the born gang-leaders congregated around the car. (I'm tossing T-Bag out of the sample because he really doesn't have a say in where he's going, and Sucre's obviously neither a loner nor a leader.) Sucre assures them, "I've done this a thousand times." "I thought you got busted for armed robbery," Linc says. Sucre points out, "That's what they caught me on." He sniffles from the cold, then says, "Red is the juice. White is the ground. Strike 'em together and we blow this town." Or maybe not. The guys FINALLY think to pop the hood and see what's underneath, and there's a big, empty hole where the engine used to be. I cannot believe they didn't think to check the engine first.
And now, that middle-school girl has a moment that will either traumatize her for life or give her a really cool story to tell for weeks. Haywire comes into the garage. He's trying hard not to appear too crazy and he is failing. He quickly grabs the bicycle as the girl shrinks into a corner. Then he turns to go, but catches sight of himself in a mirror. Haywire looks, all wow, I really do look unhinged. Then he quickly grabs a football helmet, jams it on his head, and checks his reflection again. Pleased with what he sees, he turns to the girl, says with forlorn sincerity, "Sorry..." and pedals off into the night. I applaud the football helmet. Bicycle safety is very important.
Bellick's caught up to the van. He reports to Pope via cell phone, "It's still warm, and I don't see any other tire tracks out here. They're on foot. Judging by how hot this engine is, they haven't gone far. Five, ten minutes ahead of us at most." We switch to Pope, who marks Bellick's location on a map, then orders all his assorted forces to assorted spots. He tells Bellick, "Brad, this could be over quicker than we thought. We've got them boxed in." Then Stolte comes up and gives Pope an update on Dr. Sara: "None of the staff had any interaction with her. She left work suddenly in the early afternoon, returned for maybe an hour, then left again. Very erratic." Pope asks if anyone's gotten hold of Dr. Sara, and Stolte says, "Doesn't have a home line. Cell phone seems to be shut off. Chicago PD identified her car outside her residence. They're getting an emergency warrant to go in." Pope takes all this in and looks troubled. Stolte says, "Sir, this is none of my business, but...are you going to call the governor?" Pope gets a look like, Great. One more thing to handle ON MY ANNIVERSARY.
Out in the cold, the anti-Pope tells Bellick that the dogs have picked up two trails, and those trails lead in two different directions. Bellick snarls, "Split up. What the hell are you waiting for?" Brad Bellick, inspirational leader of men! His grace under fire is truly his hallmark.
And then the episode screeches to a halt. Here's Veronica, hiking in her city clothing across unfamiliar terrain in the dead of night. She eventually waltzes to the side door of the spacious Montana compound where Terrence is stashed. I cannot believe that Madame Vice President would go to all the trouble of faking her brother's death, engineering a fake body, rigging the judicial system, getting a bunch of people killed so as to maintain the fiction that Lincoln did it, rigging the Illinois political system so as to get Governor "Juice" Tancredi in the catbird seat , buying this house in the middle of nowhere...and then NEGLECT TO PUT A SECURITY SYSTEM IN PLACE. I mean, gah? What the...gah? I don't...gah? Comprehension eluding me, ability to form sentences slipping...GAH!
The point to this scene is, Veronica watches Terrence make a smoothie. It's every bit as riveting as it sounds. And then she just opens the door and wanders on inside. GAH!
Back in D.C., Madame Vice President is giving what appears to be a press conference. The camera is sure to linger on the water set up to her podium, and wow, that is going to taste terrible, 'cause it'll be all warm and plastic-y, and...what, is there no ice in the federal triangle? So blah blah blah tax policies blah blah blah, and now she's calling on reporters as she unscrews the bottle cap from the water. The reporter asks something that can loosely be translated as "Madame Vice President, the administration's policies have been extremely favorable to the oil industry. You've got some deep ties there, and it seems kind of funny that these policies have given oil fuels record profits. Not that this is in any way reflective of, say, real life or anything. I mean...my question is, do you think the viewers are going to notice that we've essentially made you Dick Cheney, only with better hair?" Madame Vice President sings the virtues of the market-driven economy. Then the press conference goes off the rails, because someone is coming in and quietly whispering things in reporters' ears. They're getting up to leave, because obviously there's a bigger story than "Madame Vice President Drinks Water, Remains Smug About Obvious Ties To Big Business." Madame Vice President is not too thrilled about losing her audience, but then a Secret Service guy comes up and whispers something in her ear. We see her water bottle dropping.
Most of Team Escarpara runs into a barn, obviously fresh from another near-miss with the authorities. Lincoln and Abruzzi agree they have to do something about T-Bag. Just then, T-Bag and Michael run into the barn. The other cons form a loose semi-circle around them. T-Bag begins asking, "What's going on? What's going on?" Linc rhino-charges him from behind, and T-Bag is soon bent over a convenient table. T-Bag's dropped all the light tenor lilt in his voice and is growling, "What the hell are you doing? What the hell are you doing?" C-Note and Linc restrain T-Bag as Sucre tries to break the chain between the cuffs with a pair of loppers. He tries repeatedly. T-Bag mutters, "I swear to God..." and Michael viciously shouts, "You swear to what?" Sucre says it won't work and T-Bag begins chortling. The super-tense music has crashed to a crescendo already and the little pervert's laugh is the biggest sound we hear. He says, "I guess it was just meant to be, eh, now, fellas?" Abruzzi -- who has been quietly hanging back the whole time -- begs to differ. We see him swing an ax over his head, then we switch to T-Bag's horrified expression. And then, on T-Bag's echoing, agonized scream, we go to commercials.
Commercials. Oh my Gawd, Mr. T is doing karaoke commercials for Comcast? How excellent! Will he be joined by Dirk Benedict and Dwight Schultz soon? Dare I dream?
When we come back, Abruzzi's shrugging, all, "What? I was thinking outside the box." He says, "He's lucky I didn't take this to his head." Sucre gasps, "You cut his -- you cut his --" He can't even finish the sentence. He just points to T-Bag's hand on he ground. Well, I will say this for the Mob; they know the most direct path from A to B. Michael's all, "Damn." He's holding his own hands to confirm they're still there. Sucre is still gibbering. Linc hisses for Sucre to shut up, as the farmer who owns this place is now standing outside, calling out a hello. I like how he's managed to keep a cool head during all this. I can't figure out if it's because Linc's naturally good at winging it in extra-legal situations or because he has every confidence in Michael, but I like it.
So the farmer's calling hello, and the only sound we hear is T-Bag quietly sobbing as he regards his hand from across the room. Aww, he's sad because he won't be able to remember his nines tables anymore! Everyone stays still. The farmer takes off, and Linc rallies all the two-handed members of Team Escarpara. Sucre protests. "We can't just leave him like --" "You want to stay here, be my guest!" C-Note snaps. They run. T-Bag is left behind, weeping and very probably in shock.
The canine squad is running hot on everyone's heels. We see some random running and running, and then a two-lane road. There's a lot of traffic, because there's apparently construction on the road so the cars are getting waved through one at a time. Bellick is chasing down the trail, murder in his eyes, and we cut to Tweener quickly scoping the scene. He sees a horse trailer and sprints for it. He lets himself in quickly. Good thing the car behind the trailer's not at all alarmed over some guy coming out of the woods and skulking into the back of a vehicle, huh?
Back at Fox River, Pope's trying to raise Governor Tancredi on the phone. The governor's riveted to the TV. He asks, "Are you watching this?" Pope asks, "Watching what?" "I suggest you turn on your TV, warden," Tancredi snots, and then he hangs up. Well, the good people of Illinois can rest easy tonight knowing their tough-on-crime governor hung up on a prison warden rather than stick around long enough to learn that eight dangerous cons are now at large.
Pope wanders into his office, where his staff is gathered around a TV. We hear a newscaster say, "President Mills was admitted into emergency care here a little more than 45 minutes ago. In chief surgeon's words, President Mills suffered a massive cardiac arrest. Doctors were unable to revive him. The news out of Washington Medical Center is official now. The president of the United States, Richard Mills, is dead." Everyone looks all deflated. Pope has a more complex look on his face; either he's relieved that news of the Fox River breakout is going to be kicked to page A6 now that this story's broken, or he's worried that Tancredi's going to go mad with power now that the lady politician he's tight with is officially leader of the free world.
Speaking of which, there's Madame Vice President getting her promotion right now. She's now Madame President, the 46th president of the U.S. in this fictional universe. Funny how the only time a chick gets the job, someone's got to die first. Immediately after getting sworn in, Madame President says tersely, "If you'll excuse me, I have a lot to tend to tonight." She strides off, Kellerman right behind her. When the two of them round the corner in the kitchen where Madame President was sworn in -- wearing shoes and not pregnant, fortunately -- there's Brinker. She pastes on a conciliatory smile, but that soon falls off her face as she catches sight of Madame President's steely, faintly triumphant expression. Madame President enunciates very carefully, "And you said I couldn't get things done." She and Kellerman sweep past Brinker. The other woman says, "Madame Vice President, perhaps we can get together and discuss how --" and Madame President turns around to say, "It is President now, Madame. And you're going to have to talk to my organizers -- my schedule is suddenly quite full. I'm sure you'll understand." Kellerman is looking practically giddy at this turn of affairs. He and Madame President walk away, and Brinker watches them go with a concerned look.
We're now at apartment 236, where Dr. Sara lives. The cops have to break down the door. They walk inside and ring the couch. The mournful ululations begin as the camera switches perspectives and shows us the bottle of morphine and tidily placed syringe on the coffee table. The shot shifts focus so we can see that the blurry gray object in the background is actually Dr. Sara. Her eyes are closed, and she's vomited, but her hair looks fabulous. What we don't see: the piece of paper presumably clutched in her chilly little paw, which reads, "TO DO: (x) Leave infirmary door open for not-boyfriend; (x) Have total moral and existential crisis in car; (x) Pick up Clairol Natural Instincts in "Rosewood"; (x) Dye hair; (x) Overdose."
Anyway, the cops are all, "Possible overdose, likely DOA." And we all know what that means: Dr. Sara will be back season. We can only guess whether she'll be bravely struggling along in recovery, or striking out to do a little freelance sleuthing on her own, or working the streets in exchange for dope, or whatever. Frankly, I think it would be more effective to kill her off, if only because the dramatic wallop of a "good" character being rubbed out by her own conscience would be a nice counterpoint to the "Cost? What human cost?" approach the One World Conspiracy takes, and it would give Michael a lot of room for character development when he stops to consider the unanticipated consequences of his plan. Alas, until we see the shot where someone has cut off Dr. Sara's head, run a wooden stake through her heart, then buried the body at a crossroads in a garlic farm, we have no guarantees she's dead. Another storyline in limbo.
We then get a quick shot of Tweener sleeping in the horse trailer as it drives on through the night. He's apparently headed to St. Louis. I wish him the best there -- off-screen.
And then we get a shot of Haywire riding the bike through the night, on a quiet, un-barricaded road. When last we see him, he's stretching out his arms in the classic no-hands maneuver. And so the second Team Escarpara ditch-ee has slipped through Pope's dragnet.
Meanwhile, the law enforcement vehicles are circling around. The guys are but a field away from the airstrip. The guys quickly decide to sprint. Before they go, Linc grabs Michael by the shirt and says, "Michael, if this doesn’t work out, I just want you to know --" "I know," Michael says. They begin running with the others.
Scenes of the guys running. An SUV on the road behind them rolls up; the officer's voice orders them, "Freeze! Don't move!" but these guys didn't end up in jail because they excel at following society's directions.
Cut to the pilot and Maggio debating when they should take off. The insistent whine of sirens forces their hand, and they hop into the plane.
Cut to Veronica wandering through the vast, echoing, totally unsecured house in which Madame President is stashing her not-really-dead brother. As she walks, Veronica has a bunch of flashbacks that allow her -- and other, extremely slow members of the audience -- to realize that this toothless guy is, indeed, Terrence Steadman. So Veronica walks over to the big leather wing chair where Steadman's dozing, and when he wakes up and blinks at her, she says calmly, "Hello, Terrence." Going by Terrence's slightly stunned expression, he's been waiting for this moment, but hadn't expected it to creep up on him like this.
Meanwhile, back in the actual, riveting plotline, Team Escarpara's running along in a shot that's a total shout-out to Chariots of Fire. They sprint toward the plane, desperately running. We see the plane taxi along the runway. We see dozens of law enforcement vehicles speeding toward Goose Creek airstrip. We see Team Escarpara running.
Then we see T-Bag lurching through the woods, with the faint sound of barking dogs wafting up behind him. He's got his stump tucked up into his armpit. I am, frankly, stunned that T-Bag is capable of running without passing out from blood loss. There are some not-insignificant arteries and veins running through your arms, and if they're wide open, I don't care how effectively you've tried to tourniquet the area (with your one good hand), the fact is, your heart is pumping your blood right out that bloody stump and as we all learned in a prior episode, you only have 10 pints to go around. How much has T-Bag left behind already? But, as I've already noted, people don't die on this show, so let's call T-Bag...another storyline in limbo.
Team Escarpara's jogging toward the plane. It's moving along, and so are the law enforcement vehicles. The plane taxis, it prepares to ascend -- and takes off right over the heads of the cons, who have been frantically trying to flag it down.
Fortunately, C-Note has not yet caught his breath after that exercise in futility, so he can't make another one of his glass-half-full quips. Sucre sucks in another wind to ask, "What do we do now?" Michael looks at the vehicles pouring on to the runway from every side, steels himself, and rasps, "We run." Linc gives a wide-eyed, wary look at the pursuers, then turns on his heels and follows suit. Abruzzi and C-Note soon follow. The five men dive into the night as car after car swirls onto the runway, creating a loop that may well be impossible to slip through...or not. We'll find out season. We end this one with five tiny gray dots bobbing in a dark sea as they do as Michael asks. They run.
And that's it -- a whole season over! I feel...wrung out somehow. And yet, not unsatisfied. At least I want to know what'll happen in the fall. Hopefully you will too.
Speaking of you all, my thanks go out to: all of you who read the recaps; who sign up for the newsletters; who post on the forums. Special shout-out to those few of you who were kind enough to write me with your feedback about the recaps. And as always, everyone should applaud editing staff at TWoP, Sars and Joe R -- they make us look good. Have a great summer!