Let's Break Out Of Prison - Prison Break FanFic

Chapter 7: The Old Head

A/N: I've got a super hectic day tomorrow (Monday - update day) and I feel as if I'm going to forget to update so I'm uploading now (Sunday night) so that I don't need to worry about it. Next week will be Monday as always my lovely readers mwah!
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We've both been in here for almost three weeks now. And it's only 17 days until Lincolns electric chair is planned to take place.

"Think of this place like it's a map of the US." Michael tells the team in the yard. "Our cell over there. That's New York City. The infirmary, our exit, is California. The pipes beneath our feet that connect the two..."

"Route 66!" I end, perplexed at the way his mind works. He is incredibly intelligent.

"Route 66." He confirms smiling at me. "Our ticket out of here."

"I assume we're doing this at night." John asks, less of a question though, more of a statement.

"That's right." Mike replies.

"We're locked up Fish. Your boy is in solitary. How are we just going to fly out of our cages and ride into your cell right into New York City?" John makes a great point.

"You're not. You're going to meet me half way." He looks at the building behind us. "In St. Lewis. Route 66 runs directly beneath that building. It's the only building sitting on top of those tunnels. All we gotta do is get in there on P.I and dig ourselves an on-ramp. Shortly after, we hit the infirmary, then we'll be outside those walls."

"What's in there?" Sucre asks.

"It's an old storage room. I think John here can pull all the strings he needs."

"It's not that easy, Fish. That's a restricted area. I gotta be able to justify it to the bulls, now there's got to be some actual work to be done in there, for me to get in. Do you follow?"

"Then you better figure it out." I tell him, sounding as if it's the obvious thing to do. For criminals these men are truly stupid.

"If we don't get in that room, we're not getting out of here." Michael agrees with me.

"I'm feeling kinda, left out." T-Bag comes wondering over faking a puppy dog look. "New York, California, St Lewis? What are we discussin'?"

"Talking baseball actually." I tell him.

"Huh!" He wonders up closer to me. "Now that's a subject I happen to know quite a lot about."

"What a shame." John whines sarcastically. "The conversations over." We all start to stand up and walk away.

"Really now? That ain't the way to treat a team mate. I'm coming along on this endeavour whether you like it or not." He tells us. "Cos I got a hell of a singing voice, otherwise." He really drags out his words. Always sounding threatening. Always sounding like a psychotic rapist.

Once out of his earshot John presses his hand on Michaels chest. "I won't take that piece of crap along, I won't do it."

"Me neither." Sucre agrees. Well I certainly don't want him to come either.

"We won't have to." Michael tells our worried faces. "Don't worry your pretty little head." He jokingly pushes my head away with his hand and I smile at him cheekily. "He'll be out of the picture soon enough."

*

Next yard session I'm sitting with my old Grandpa while Michael stares helplessly at the building trying to think of a way to get in there, when T-Bag strolls over, with his newest member holding loyally onto the white pocket.