Ain't No Rest For The Wicked – Prologue – Manhunt
I was once what you are, and what I am you will become.
When I was four years old, I decided I wanted to be famous. Being a singer was my first choice. Then I slowly came to the realization that I couldn't sing – at all. That dream went out the window, which was fine by me. I would become an actress instead. What's not to like? Fame, fortune, probably some attractive co-stars. Though joining a drama class was as close to acting as I'd ever truly get. I was over-confident. That dream of acting lasted until I found a book on body language and psychology in the school library, when I was there to research a project.
I decided that's what I'd rather do than be an actress. Being famous didn't matter so much anymore. Only now we would be famous for all the wrong reasons, my new buddies and I. All of America would know who we were, wouldn't they? Until we vanished. Until our names were wiped from everyone's memories. We'd just be known as 'those guys who got out of prison'. That would be the ideal situation. Here I was, running through the woods with five convicts panting and sweating behind me.
Theodore's screams rang in my head as Lincoln stopped me from slipping in mud. Abruzzi had to handle it himself, almost landing completely in it. Fortunately, he found his footing before he kept going. Michael was right behind us, though he and Sucre struggled to keep up the most out of all of us. In a surprising turn of events, we began helping one another now more than ever. C-Note looked paler, his eyes darting back and forth. He would die before he went back to Fox Rivers, going to such extreme lengths for his family.
"Keep going, come on!" Abruzzi yelled.
I slowed a little, planning on staying with Michael, but he anticipated this. "Don't worry…about us Em…just run as fast as you can!"
Every noise, even a twig snapping made us jump. It had been hours since we'd escaped. My lungs burned, my head throbbed and my eyes stung from exhaustion. The plan had always been in theory and based on luck, but now that we were really out here – we had actually done it! – it was more...frightening. So real and serious. Extra time on our sentence would be the least of our worries now.
The sound of dogs barking will always make my heart thump after this, I was sure of it. If I made it, that is. There was always a chance we wouldn't. We knew that from the moment we started this escape. I wondered if Westmoreland hadn't been stabbed, would he have survived this far? Would Tweener hate me for everything? Was Theodore dead? It was hard to imagine living as a civilian. With no guards telling you what to do. No schedules, no gangs and no rivals. Just normal, boring everyday life.
That sounds like a dream right about now.
We came to a stop in a clearing, panting and leaning over, resting our hands on our knees. I wiped some sweat from my brow, hating myself for not exercising more in my lifetime. Lincoln wanted to know where Michael and Sucre were. I looked about, but we all knew they were the slowest out of all of us. There was a sound of a whistle, and C-Note straightened up immediately. I listened to them, half-focusing on the noise and the other half waiting for Michael.
I saw nothing, and I frowned impatiently.
"Emilie!" Abruzzi called. "Come on!"
When I hesitated, he decided to just pull me along until I had to start running. There was a train, which I believed Lincoln wanted us to jump on at first. I glanced back towards the bushes, desperately searching for Michael and Sucre. They couldn't have been caught, could they?
"All we've gotta do is make it to the other side!" Lincoln yelled. "Make it to the other side!"
Easier said than done.
Sucre appeared, and I smiled when I saw Michael. Thank God, he hadn't fallen behind or anything. It gave me the chance to focus on running to the other side of the train. In a short few seconds, I managed to pass out the others. I hoped it was because I was smaller and lighter, but I'm not sure. I wasn't very good at sports when I was younger, but hey, I wasn't doing too bad right now. My lungs felt like they could burst, yet I was still going.
I jumped first, with Lincoln crashing right into me. It didn't hurt. The adrenaline would wear off later, and then I'd feel it. Abruzzi and C-Note followed, but yet again I panicked for Michael and Sucre. Lincoln stopped when he saw I wasn't following, and he slowly came to realize Michael hadn't been keeping up. If we lived, I was going to force him to run a race-track every single day for the rest of his life.
"Michael!" I yelled, my voice sounding a little hoarse and out of breath. I wasn't loud enough, and Lincoln began joining in, both of us yelling Michael's name. The dogs were getting closer and louder. Any second now they'd come for us, I know it. He could make it….He had to make it! Michael would never give up, not when we'd gotten this far. Lincoln ran, jumping back onto the train with surprising grace. I waited, biting my tongue to stop myself screaming out in frustration. Why do things have to go wrong for us? Is this karma orsomething? Or just plain bad luck?
A gun shot went off.
Then I let go of my scream, thinking Michael had been shot.
"Aw shit man!" C-Note gasped. "Shit!"
Abruzzi blessed himself with respect, as if he thought Michael or Lincoln had been shot, but he turned to begin running again. I stood in one spot, eyes wide. My ears strained to hear something. Even the dogs had stopped barking for a few seconds. It started up again once the shot had rung out. Lincoln appeared first, rolling to the ground with a grunt. When I saw Michael, my knees went weak from the relief.
We had lost too many people as it was. I couldn't lose Michael.
If he had still been chained to Theodore, he wouldn't have made it this far, and we all knew that. I didn't move until he got up, and limped for a second. Had he hurt himself? No, thankfully he hadn't. He grabbed my hand and pulled me along. My sides were stinging from effort. Ow.
After another painstaking few minutes of running, we had to slow down again. I couldn't hear the dogs. I couldn't hear anything. The train must've blocked them. This was valuable time. I panted, focusing on taking the deepest breaths imaginable. Oh God, I could pass out and sleep on the ground, it wouldn't bother me. Any place I could rest for just a few seconds.
"Did you see all those guys back there?" Sucre asked.
"The key thing is they're back there, and we're up here," Michael said.
"Yeah, and how long is that gonna last?"
"Yeah especially since we don't have a pot to piss in thanks to Abruzzi's magically disappearing jet," C-Note agreed.
"Eh, you were never gonna be on that plane brother." Abruzzi glared in C-Note's direction. Uh-oh. Here we go, fights beginning already.
"Hey and don't think I don't know where you were going either Scofield," C-Note continued, ignoring Abruzzi and pointing at Michael. I looked up at this. Did he mean Panama? Surely he wouldn't care if we went to Panama anyway, the place Michael had spoken of for months on end. Day after day of sitting in the yard, talking about sandy beaches and blue skies. It wouldn't mean anything to C-Note, who wanted to get his family to Mexico.
"Yeah and where am I going?" Michael asked, turning around.
Lincoln's eyes met with mine. Ah, so he didn't know about this either. I shrugged, looking back at Michael. He had glanced between Lincoln and I before facing C-Note. C-Note himself was looking very smug. He took a step closer.
"You know. Utah?"
Utah? What happened to Panama?
"When were you planning on telling us about the money man?" C-Note asked.
"What money?" Sucre asked.
Money. No Panama. Utah. Letting Tweener go. There were a lot of things Michael had been keeping to himself in this escape, and I was only finding out about them now. Though Lincoln didn't seem to know anything about Utah or the money either, from the annoyed look on his face. So I wasn't totally alone in the dark. His expression was turning into a mixture of hurt and confusion now.
"Five million dollars that Westmoreland planted in the desert in Utah." Oh…wow. C-Note frowned at Michael expectantly, just waiting for his answer.
Michael looked at my wide eyed expression before he sighed. "I don't know what you're talking about." He walked towards me, pushing me towards the opposite direction of the others. Lincoln joined, looking a little peeved.
"You wish I didn't know," C-Note called.
"Hey, hey, what money man?" Sucre yelled after us.
It was nice to finally see some good views, with sparkling water and beautiful trees. It wouldn't last long though. We'd stay here for a few minutes, then keep running. Can't stay in one stop for too long, or they'd find us. Is that how my life will be from now on?
As soon as Michael had explained everything about the money while we sat on the pier, crossing our legs and staring into the water, Lincoln was adamant that we dump the others. Michael didn't want to, because now they all knew about Utah. It was obvious that they'd go there. You can't trust cons – I say that because I am one, I've had experience.
"All the more reason to dump 'em," Lincoln shrugged.
"If we get caught, the feds will know exactly where we're going."
"And do you really think they'd keep quiet?" I asked sarcastically. We all knew the answer was no. Lincoln squinted in the bright sunlight, sighing a little. Paranoia was spreading amongst the others, that much was clear. Already the group were beginning to worry about double-crossers, and when none of these guys have a respectable track record of being the good guys, it's kind of hard to decide what to do.
Michael and Lincoln talked about it for a while longer, though I tuned out, thinking of other things. Sucre was the nicest out of all of the other inmates. He had a baby to think about, a real reason to live, a reason to try and find that money. C-Note had a wife and kids. Abruzzi did too, but he was more worried about Fibonacci. Everyone knew the Mob Boss wasn't exactly low on cash, but we couldn't be sure he wouldn't go after it either.
Was David still alive? He had ratted us out to Bellick. I was so stupid for putting so much trust in a kid. He had no experience. I could hardly blame him, living in a cell with Abacado. The man was a well-known pervert, though he'd never made a move on me. Young men were his type. Tweener was his type, and I didn't protect him at all. Once the cells closed, no one could.
"Veronica can't help us," Michael murmured.
I looked up at the sound of her name. I knew her from Lincoln's meetings before, and from what I gather and the little bits of information I've managed to squeeze out of Michael, Lincoln and Veronica had a relationship long before he was sent down. A loving, kind and caring sort of one. He did care a lot about her.
"How can you say that?" Lincoln asked, sitting up slightly. "We don't have money, clothes-…"
I looked between him and Michael, listening intently now. He had a point.
"I already took care of all of that."
"I thought the plan was Abruzzi's jet."
"That was Plan A." Oh trust Michael to come up with another plan. He was a genius. It made me smile with pride that he had thought of the more obvious things the rest of us had forgotten in our panic. We had everything we needed, all thanks to Michael. I hoped.
"Where?" Lincoln asked.
"Storage." He pulled back his sleeve a little.
"Looks like we have work to do. We'll need to find something for her to wear," Lincoln smiled, motioning towards me. "Some old dress, I suppose."
"Oh fine," I sighed dramatically. "I'll find a Gucci dress somewhere, I'm sure I can suffice in that. You don't expect me to wear anything less than that." They grinned.
Hopefully if we ever made it to Panama, it would be just like this. No worrying about the police, or death row or crime. Instead we'd spend time talking, relaxing, watching calm ripples in the water. A couple of beers doesn't sound too bad either.