Chapter 3! Thanks to a recommendation from a reviewer, I have enabled anonymous reviews. I'm not quite sure what I think about this chapter, but it's pretty long. Sara makes a bit of an appearance in this chapter; she'll be having a role in upcoming chapters.
As always, review please!
Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own Prison Break.
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"What do you know about the Fox River Eight?" Michael asked.
The doctor frowned. "What does that have to do-"
"What do you know?" Michael repeated sharply, stepping towards her.
"Not much."
"Why?"
"I'm a second year surgical resident. I don't have any free time."
"Oh." There was a pause. "What do you know?"
Dr. Curtis shrugged. "Eight men escaped from a prison. From a place called Fox River?" Michael nodded. "As far as I know, they're still out there."
"That's not very much."
"No." She agreed.
"Michael." Lincoln called, from the passenger's seat. Michael turned, and walked back to the car. "We got a problem. They identified blood on the floor as Sucre's." Michael rested his hands on the window, feeling his control slipping away again.
"What do you think we should do?" Michael asked his brother.
"We have to take her with us." Lincoln replied, without hesitating. "Word'll be all over here by morning that some of us are out here. She'll tell everything she knows to the feds, and by then, we won't be far enough away." Michael gazed off, doubtful. "I know you don't want to, Michael. But we don't have any options here." Michael glanced at Lincoln, then at the doctor, who was watching them.
He turned back to Lincoln. "All right." Michael returned to where Sucre was sitting, and helped him up. The bigger man was leaning heavily on Michael. "You got a car back at the hospital?" Michael asked the woman. She nodded. "We'll give you a ride then."
"That's really not necessary."
"It's on our way. Consider it our payment." Michael replied, giving a charming grin. The doctor hesitated, before nodding uneasily. Michael escorted her back to the car, and opened one of the second row doors for her.
"Thank you." She murmured, as she got in. Glancing to her left, the doctor realized that Lincoln was in the back with her. Trying to remain calm, she watched as Michael helped Sucre into the passenger seat and then got into the driver seat. Then they drove away.
"The driveway's right there on the left." Dr. Curtis commented, a moment later. The vehicle didn't slow down, and they quickly passed the hospital. "Excuse me, you missed the turn. It's right back there." Again, no attention. "Let me out!" The doctor insisted, voice rising. When this received no response from any of the men, Dr. Curtis reached for her door handle. The door opened just a few inches before strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her backwards.
She was aware that she was laying on Lincoln, that one of his arms was across her collarbone and that another was wrapped around her stomach. "Let me go!" Dr. Curtis cried, struggling. She thrashed back and forth and dug her fingernails into the arm around her neck, but to no avail. The man didn't slacken his hold at all. The doctor kept yelling, screaming, making noise. Lincoln shifted the hand that was on her stomach to cover her mouth, muffling her sound.
"Be quiet." Lincoln ordered, softly. "I am not going to kill you. I won't hurt you in any way, unless you force me to by doing stuff like what you just tried. None of us will. You need to do as we say, and keep quiet. Do you think you can handle that?" He asked. The doctor stared up at him with fear filled eyes, before nodding. "Good." Lincoln removed the hand on her mouth, and set her up straight. The doctor pulled back, leaning against the now locked door.
After a few moments of silence, Dr. Curtis spoke. "Where are we going?" She asked.
"Don't worry about it." Lincoln said. "That's another thing: don't ask questions. The less you know, the better."
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After driving for six hours, Alex Mahone pulled up in front of Minan-Hatford Hospital. He quickly showed his badge to the receptionist, who pointed him towards an office.
As Mahone entered the office, badge visible, he nodded. "Gentlemen. I hear you have some news for me."
The man in the white coat nodded. "I'm Dr. Carl Milton, Head of the ER, and this is chief of police, Robert Handle." Alex nodded at both men in turn. "At approximately ten seventeen this evening, two middle-aged men were brought in, already dead. Both were wearing uniforms of a local gas station, and had died of gunshot wounds."
"Later, police ran some DNA tests on blood found on the scene of the crime. The test came back saying it was Fernando Sucre's blood, so we called the feds." The police chief continued.
"You did the right thing." Mahone remarked absentmindedly. "Do you have anything else?"
"Yeah. Here's the security tape, and info about their car." The policeman added, handing Alex a tape and a piece of paper. Mahone took them eagerly.
"Thank you gentlemen. You've been of great help." He said genuinely.
"One more thing, Mr. Mahone." The policeman said, hesitantly. "I'm no doctor, but this Sucre fellow had a lot of blood at the scene. He was bleedin' pretty badly. I think he'll need to find medical treatment pretty soon."
Mahone considered this for a moment, before nodding.
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Hundreds of miles away, Sara Trancredi was in a 24-hour drug store. She had two containers of hair dye in her hands, and she was biting her lip slightly. Blonde or black, she mused. Light colors stand out, dark colors fade in. With that, Sara put the blonde dye back on the shelf and added the black dye to her basket, which already contained a variety of items including scissors, a pocketknife, protein bars, and some necessities.
She walked over to the register, tugging her baseball cap down lower. The young woman at the register blew a bubble with her gum, popped it, and started ringing up her purchases.
Twenty minutes later, Sara was back in her hotel room. She washed her hair, and then pulled out the scissors. Sara told herself that she was snipping her old life away. In the morning, she would contact a former prisoner that hadn't hated her too badly to obtain fake identification, under a new name. Then, she would drive north for a while, to somewhere near Seattle. She'd always wanted to go to Seattle, see the space needle, find out if it really did rain all the time there. Sara would find an apartment, or a small house there, and then search for a job. It would be virtually impossible for her to work as a doctor again, because it just wasn't possible to fake credentials like that. Maybe she'd try something new; like being an interior designer. Or maybe she'd find work at a free clinic, as a knowledgeable aide, if not a doctor. She had all the opportunities in the world to blend in, disappear, and never be seen by federal agents ever again.
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Hours later, the car pulled to a lazy stop in front of a cheap-looking motel called the Pink Sunset. Michael turned back to look at the doctor and Lincoln. "This is where we stop tonight." He said. "Dr. Curtis, you are going to go inside and get a room with two beds, then come back out. We'll pay in cash in the morning."
The woman looked first at Michael, then at Lincoln. "Are you kidding me? What is this, a kidnapping?"
"For now, you're going to stay with us." Michael answered. "And we're not kidding."
"What if I go in there and tell that to the receptionist?"
"That would be a bad idea." Lincoln said. "This gun will be aimed at your back, and if that man picks up the phone, or does anything out of the ordinary, I fire." He pulled his gun out of his belt, and took the safety off.
Dr. Curtis swallowed hard, and seeing no alternative, got out of the car. As she walked towards the entrance, she glanced backwards and saw Lincoln, training the gun on her. He met her gaze, and the woman turned back around.
"Welcome to the Pink Sunset." The receptionist greeted her through a yawn.
"Thank you. I'd like to book a room for tonight, please." She said.
"You're in luck; we have some open." The man replied. "Single or double?"
"Double." The doctor said, glancing around. The motel lobby was decorated in varying shades of pink, with clashing decorations. As she turned her attention back to the receptionist, the phone on the desk began to ring.
"I'm sorry, just one moment please." The man said apologetically, reaching for the phone.
"No!" The woman cried, reaching to swat his hand away, aware of what would happen if the receptionist answered the phone right now, with the men watching her. The man raised both his eyebrows. "I mean… I was here first! Whatever happened to courtesy. Honestly!"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, I…"
"I don't have all night." Dr. Curtis snapped, ignoring the sudden perspiration on her forehead.
"Of course not." The man said, sounding a bit afraid of her now. "Just sign here, ma'am." The doctor quickly obeyed. "Here's your key, number 112. Check out's at ten." The receptionist added.
"Thank you." The woman replied, picking the key up. She turned sharply on her heel and strode back out to where her captors were waiting.
In the car, Michael and Lincoln both gave sighs of relief as the doctor turned and began to walk back out of the building. "I'm surprised that worked." Lincoln commented. Michael smirked faintly in agreement.
"Lincoln, the men at the gas station…." Michael began, but a shake of Lincoln's head stopped him.
"Not now. Later." The older brother said, eyes downcast.
"You killed them, Lincoln. This whole thing was about you not being a killer." Michael insisted.
Lincoln now met Michael's gaze. "You think I'm glad I shot them?" He asked heatedly. "You think I thought, well, I might as well commit the crime I was punished for?"
"When is it too much, Lincoln?" Michael asked, eyes revealing his guilt.
"We'll talk later." Lincoln repeated, as the doctor approached the car.
The doctor opened the door and threw the key at Lincoln. "That's awfully risky behavior from someone being held at gun point." Lincoln remarked darkly, still sour about his conversation with Michael. A look of terror passed over the woman's face, before she leaned back in the seat, as far from any of the men as she could get.
Michael looked at the woman. "Let's just go to the room." He said. Michael prodded Sucre gently. "Sucre…" He said, trying to get him to wake up. "Sucre!" Michael poked harder.
Without opening his eyes, Sucre automatically waved an arm wildly, unintentionally whacking Michael in the nose. "What is it, bro?" He asked irritably. "I was sleepin'!"
"We got a hotel room. You can sleep in there." Michael replied, one hand rubbing his nose.
"On a bed?" Sucre asked, hopefully.
"On a bed." Michael promised.
Everybody got out of the car and slowly walked towards room 112. Michael unlocked the door, and entered. Sucre followed, and then Lincoln pushed Dr. Curtis in front of him. Sucre quickly laid down on one of the two creaky queen sized beds. Soft snores seconds later indicated that he was already asleep again. Michael turned to Dr. Curtis.
"You can take the other bed." Michael said. She stared at him for a moment, almost fighting him, before deciding that she would rather have the bed than the couch, or the floor. Dr. Curtis kicked off her shoes and socks, and slid under the covers, aware of the fact that both brothers were watching her. They turned away, and talked quietly for a moment as the woman settled underneath the covers.
She was almost asleep when the bed creaked ominously under the weight of a second person. Dr. Curtis turned and saw Lincoln getting into the bed next to her. "What are you doing?" She asked sharply.
Lincoln glanced at her. "Making sure you don't run off during the night." He replied, sounding almost embarrassed. He lay so that he was touching her, and wrapped an arm loosely around her stomach. Dr. Curtis shifted and rolled over so that her back was to him. "What's your first name?" Lincoln asked softly, so he wouldn't wake Sucre.
After a few moments, the woman replied quietly. "Kate." She said.
"Just to warn you, Kate, I'm a very light sleeper. If you get out of bed, I'll know it."
"Do you tell that to every woman you share a bed with?" Kate asked. Judging by the way his body tensed, Lincoln was a bit taken aback by this boldness; on the couch, Michael grinned faintly. A silence then fell, and one by one, they drifted off to sleep.
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In an office at the Minan-Hatford police department, Alex Mahone pushed the security tape into the VCR and waited. Bill Kim would be calling any time now, wanting an update, and Mahone desperately wanted to have something to tell him besides how he was wrong about the plane. If he didn't, his life and that of his wife's were in jeopardy. Ex-wife, he reminded himself.
He pressed play, and watched the video of the gas station, which was of remarkably poor quality. "Oh my God." Mahone said, when it stopped. He rewound the tape, and played it again, just to be sure. "Yes!" He shouted triumphantly.
Just then, his cell phone rang. "Mahone." He said, answering it.
"What's the word?"
"Mr. Kim, it turns out that the fugitives did not board the plane, although all evidence says they were about to. The only person on board was the pilot, who had been killed upon impact."
"That isn't good news, Agent Mahone."
"That's not all. Three men held up a gas station earlier this evening. One of the men was identified by DNA as Fernando Sucre, and Burrows and Scofield are clearly visible on the security video."
"How close are you to them?"
"I'm in the same town as the gas station, Minan, New Mexico, but they wouldn't have hung around long." Mahone replied.
There was a faint pause. "Find them, Mahone. Find them quickly."
"I'm close."
"Don't let them get away again." A click, and then the line went dead.
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Kate Curtis awoke to the sound of voices arguing. She opened her eyes, and saw that it was only the television. She didn't recognize anything they were saying, and saw that Sucre was propped up on some pillows, watching a show in Spanish.
"How are you feeling?" Kate asked, sleepily.
Sucre glanced at her. "Better. Not so dizzy."
"Any pain in your back?"
"It still stings a bit."
Kate nodded. "It'll get better." She hesitated. "Where are the others?"
"One's in the shower, the other went to go check out." The Latin man replied.
"We could escape now, Fernando." She said, softly. He turned to give her a strange look.
"Escape?" Sucre repeated, confused.
Kate nodded. "They aren't watching us right now. They're holding you and me captive right now, and this could be our only opportunity to escape."
"Attempting to escape would be a bad idea." Lincoln said, coming out of the bathroom. Kate felt a faint blush creep into her cheeks as she observed that he was topless.
"Oh?" She challenged.
He glanced over his shoulder at her as he searched for his shirt. "Yeah."
The door to the motel room opened. She noted that both Sucre and Lincoln stiffened slightly, before relaxing as they realized it was just Michael. The younger brother nodded in greeting. "I got breakfast." He said, lifting a paper bag for emphasis. Michael handed a breakfast sandwich to Lincoln and Sucre, before turning to Kate. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I got a couple of different things." He said, handing the bag to her.
Kate gave him a confused look; why did he care if she liked what they ate? She was their prisoner! She would count herself lucky if she were still alive at the end of the day. Kate examined each sandwich, before selecting one that looked moderately edible.
Kate sat on one bed, while Michael, Lincoln, and Sucre sat on the other. They spoke hurriedly, and in hushed tones that Kate couldn't hear. That was probably the point, she thought.
"What do you mean, cleans us out?" Lincoln asked loudly. "I thought you had the five million!"
Michael glanced at Kate, before looking back at Lincoln. "I told you, there were complications. T-Bag screwed us all over, and took most of it. What I had, we just spent."
"What do we have left?" Sucre asked, placing an arm in front of Lincoln to keep him from doing something he might regret. For whatever reason, the older brother was behaving in a rather hostile manner. What Sucre found particularly strange was that this hostility seemed to be largely directed at Michael.
"About ten dollars." Michael replied.
Sucre whistled softly. "That won't even buy another tank of gas." Michael shook his head in agreement.
"So why don't we go get some of it from T-Bag?" Lincoln asked in a menacing tone. "Pay him a little visit."
"We don't know where he is." Michael pointed out.
The three were silent for a moment, thinking. "How could you have let this happen, Michael?" Lincoln snapped suddenly. "That money was our only chance!" Michael put a hand up, silencing any further comments.
"You can shower now." Michael said to Kate, in a chilly tone. It was quite a contrast from the Michael who had brought her a selection of breakfast sandwiches. Sensing that this was not a request she could refuse, Kate set her sandwich down, and walked back to the bathroom.
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