Chapter 20: Three Days to Freedom
May 8th. Three days until execution.
The lockdown lifted at 1600. Cell doors opened. Inmates flooded out like water from a broken dam.
T-Bag found Michael in the yard within five minutes.
"Let's talk terms," T-Bag said.
Michael's jaw tightened, but he nodded. They walked to a corner where I was waiting with Sucre.
"I'm in, or I tell Bellick everything," T-Bag said without preamble. "The meetings, the PI access, the timeline. All of it."
Michael looked ready to strangle him. "You—"
I stepped in. "You're in. But you follow rules, or you get left behind in the worst possible way."
T-Bag grinned. "I can work with that."
"Rule one," I continued. "You do what Michael says. No questions. No improvising. No independent action."
"Rule two," Michael added, finding his voice. "You keep your mouth shut until we're out. One word to anyone, and the deal's off."
"Rule three," I finished. "You hurt anyone in this crew, you're done. We'll leave you bleeding in a hole somewhere."
T-Bag's smile didn't waver. "Awful specific, magician. But sure. I'll play nice."
He's lying. He'll betray us the first chance he gets. But we'll deal with that when it happens.
"Good," Michael said. "Welcome to the crew."
C-NOTE'S POV
Benjamin Miles Franklin had been watching for three weeks.
The patterns were clear now. Scofield's PI access. The crew meetings. The timeline matching Lincoln's execution. The way they moved during the riot with purpose while everyone else fought chaos.
They were breaking out.
And C-Note wanted in.
He found them in the library at 1800. All of them—Scofield, Miller, Sucre, Abruzzi, even T-Bag now.
"We need to talk," C-Note said.
Michael looked up, exhaustion clear in his eyes. "About what?"
"About the fact that you're planning a break. About the PI access, the crew meetings, the timeline matching Lincoln's execution. I've seen it all. And I want in."
Michael's face went white. "I don't know what—"
"Don't insult me." C-Note crossed his arms. "I'm military intelligence. Pattern recognition is my specialty. You've been sloppy."
Daniel was studying him with those too-sharp eyes. Reading him. Calculating.
"What do you want?" Daniel asked.
"Out. Same as you. Back to my family. To Kacee and Darius." C-Note met each of their eyes. "I can help. I know guard rotations, security protocols, tactical planning. I'm useful."
"Or you're a plant," Abruzzi said. "Working for Bellick."
"If I was working for Bellick, you'd already be in segregation." C-Note turned to Michael. "I'm not asking permission. I'm telling you I'm in. Either you include me controlled, or I figure it out myself and complicate your plan."
Michael looked at Daniel. Some silent communication passed between them.
"He's good," Daniel said finally. "And he's desperate. Manageable risk."
"Anyone else want to join?" Michael asked the ceiling. "Should we put up a sign?"
But he extended his hand to C-Note. "You're in. Same rules as everyone else. Follow orders, keep quiet, don't betray us."
C-Note shook it. "Deal."
The crew was now seven.
DANIEL'S POV
That evening, I got an emergency phone call. Veronica.
"Danny?" Her voice was strained. "I'm in trouble."
My stomach dropped. "What happened?"
"My investigation—I found documents. Proof of the conspiracy. Company operatives, government involvement, everything. But they know I have it. Kellerman approached again, more aggressive this time. Said I should back off for my own safety."
"Where are you?"
"Safe house. Friend of mine, off the grid. But I can't stay hidden forever."
"Three days," I said. "Give us three days. Then this is over."
"What happens in three days?"
"We get out. We expose everything. We make sure Lincoln's safe and you're protected."
"Danny, that's—that's crazy."
"I know. But it's also the truth." I lowered my voice. "After this is over, I'm coming to find you. We'll finish this conversation properly."
A pause. Then: "Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Both." My hands gripped the phone. "Stay alive, Veronica. I've got plans that require you in them."
"What kind of plans?"
"The kind that involve dinner. And conversation. And figuring out what happens when a lawyer and a thief stop fighting conspiracy and start just... existing."
Her laugh was soft, almost broken. "That sounds nice."
"It will be. I promise."
"Be careful, Danny. Please."
"You too."
After the call ended, I stood in the common area, phone in hand, heart racing.
Three days. Then I find her. Then we have that conversation.
If we survive.
LINCOLN'S POV
Lincoln Burrows received his last meal request form on May 9th.
Three days until execution.
The guard who handed it to him was professional. Courteous. Like this was normal administrative work instead of planning a man's death.
"You got forty-eight hours to submit," the guard said. "Whatever you want, within reason."
Lincoln stared at the form.
My last meal. They're asking about my last fucking meal.
He couldn't write. His hands shook too much.
But he could think about LJ. About Michael. About Veronica fighting for him. About the magician kid who'd promised an impossible escape.
Three days. Michael, please. Three days.
He put the form aside and pulled out paper. Started writing what might be his final letter to his son.
MICHAEL'S POV
Michael lay in his bunk on the night of May 9th, reviewing every detail of the plan in his mind.
Two days until execution. Forty-eight hours.
The bolt hole was accessible. The tools were positioned. The crew was assembled—messy, dangerous, barely functional, but assembled. Abruzzi had transportation ready. Westmoreland had the escape money coordinates. Daniel had the intelligence and skills. Sucre had the loyalty. C-Note had tactical knowledge.
And T-Bag... T-Bag was a ticking bomb they'd have to manage.
Can we actually do this?
Above him, Sucre was praying quietly. "Please God, get me back to Maricruz. Please let this work. Please keep us all alive."
Michael closed his eyes and whispered his own prayer.
Please let me save my brother.
SUCRE'S POV
Fernando Sucre held Maricruz's latest letter against his chest.
Two more days, mi amor. Two more days and I'm coming home.
He'd written her a final letter—hidden it in his mattress with instructions for it to be sent if he died during the escape. Told her he loved her. Told her to marry Hector if she had to, to be happy, to live.
But he wasn't going to die.
He was going to get out. Going to stop that wedding. Going to prove he was worth waiting for.
Two days.
ABRUZZI'S POV
John Abruzzi sharpened his improvised shank in the darkness.
Two days until the break. Then transportation. Then freedom.
Then Fibonacci.
He'd waited years for this. Waited in this cage, planning revenge, dreaming of the moment he'd find that rat bastard who'd testified against him.
Soon, Abruzzi thought. Very soon.
T-BAG'S POV
Theodore Bagwell sat in his cell, smiling in the darkness.
Two days until freedom.
The magician thought he could control him. Scofield thought he could give orders. They all thought T-Bag would follow their rules.
Fools.
T-Bag would follow their rules right up until the moment he didn't need them anymore. Then he'd take what he wanted and disappear.
Freedom. Money. Power.
And revenge on everyone who'd ever humiliated him.
Especially the magician.
Two days, T-Bag thought. Then we'll see who's really in control.
C-NOTE'S POV
Benjamin Franklin looked at the picture of his family one more time before lights out.
Kacee. Darius. His baby girl.
Two days until he saw them again. Two days until he could hold them, tell them he loved them, be the father and husband they deserved.
Please God, let this work. Let me get back to them.
He tucked the picture under his pillow and closed his eyes.
WESTMORELAND'S POV
Charles Westmoreland lay in his bunk, thinking about Robin.
His daughter. His baby girl, now grown. The one good thing he'd left in the world.
Two days until freedom. Until he could give her the Cooper money. Until he could tell her he'd always loved her, even when he was gone.
One last flight, Westmoreland thought. One last impossible escape.
For Robin.
DANIEL'S POV
I lay in my bunk, organizing everything in my mind palace.
Forty-eight hours until Lincoln's execution.
Forty-eight hours until we broke out of Fox River or died trying.
The crew was assembled. Seven men, seven desperate motivations, seven reasons to risk everything.
My hands shuffled cards in the darkness, muscle memory perfect despite exhaustion.
Two days.
Then we find out if any of this was worth it.
Then we find out if impossible is just another word for possible.
The cards whispered between my palms.
Tomorrow, we'd make final preparations. Check every detail. Brief everyone on timing.
Then May 11th. Execution day. Escape day.
Everything or nothing.
I smiled in the darkness.
Let's make the impossible happen.
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