Fighting Back
Title: Fighting Back
Author: pemphredouk
Pairing/Characters: Michael, Sara, Lincoln, LJ,OC, Alex, Sofia Gretchen and Whistler
Rating: Probably NC-17 after the first few chapters
Summary: Michael and Sara discover things, good and bad about themselves as they finally start fighting back. All locations mentioned in the story actually exist and can be found on the google map I've made to accompany this fic. It can be found Google Map of Road Trip here.
Chapter 9: Cardenas
“Are you sure you’re ok with this?” he asked with concern, his head tilting down to make eye contact with her. She nodded quickly, they didn’t have a choice. They simply did not have enough money to reach Ascension; the place Michael had apparently stashed more supplies when planning the original break out. They’d already talked about this to the point of exhaustion recalling their conversation from the day before.
They’d made camp and almost immediately started to discuss the rights and wrongs of stealing with the emotional clarity and passion expected of hardened members of their respective debating societies at High school. Dissecting and examining the moral arguments set against the actual practicalities of being fugitives and over five hundred miles away from any resources.
Michael had admitted to his moment of personal anguish after he had taken the fish oil from the store, retelling shamefully how he had pushed the old man to the floor. Desperate to escape, not only the store but also his conscience. Sara had taken up her favourite position sitting between his bent legs and had pushed herself back against his chest. She hugged his knees tightly; aware of how heavy the guilt would have weighed on him. Then she had responded in a hushed voice with her own guilty past. A past of stealing from her own home, from relatives, from friends at college, from anyone unlucky enough to enter her circle of acquaintances to fund the drugs she craved. A circle of thievery that had spiralled out of control once her father withdrew her generous allowance in a hopeless attempt to control her addiction. Michael had joined his hands together around her waist and hugged her back, his lips nuzzling against her neck to soothe her, whispering his love and understanding.
“But let me help.” She entreated, knowing he was only doing this for her.
“No” he replied rather too quickly, “Its safer this way, you stay with the bike ok? It won’t take long.” And then in an attempt to distract her from any further argument he added. “Is there anything else you want to add to the list.” and he checked down the items scribbled on a torn out page from his notebook in Sara’s less than neat handwriting.
A murmured “Oh” escaped his lips on noticing for the first time the second thing on it.
“Errmm…” a slight look of panic flashed in his eyes
“I’ve umm…never bought these before, is there a size…or……ummm type I need to get?” His embarrassment was endearing and she smiled
“No whatever they have, these small stores normally just stock the standard ones. Unless…”
“Unless?” his eyes panicking once more
“Unless they have a choice, then ones without applicators please, O.B’s would be good.”
He nodded, although he was obviously pondering what standard actually meant and why the hell they needed applicators. He pursed his lips cursing his inability to sustain any relationship in the past beyond the point where he would have developed an understanding of sanitary protection.
“Please be careful, Michael.” she hesitated her hand reaching out to touch his arm.
“Hey I robbed a bank this should be easy…” adopting an air of confidence that neither quite bought.
“Yeah and you got caught.” She added with a smirk
“I meant that to happen” he replied pretending to take offence.
“Well you would say that…wouldn’t you.” she responded with a smile and he grinned back as he climbed the three wooden steps to the small porch outside the store.
She moved back to the bike, leaning against it then looking around the dusty parking area she slipped one leg over and tottered the bike off the stand….just in case….
Michael smiled warily at the man behind the counter as he wandered down the first aisle, the paper pinched between his fingers. He scanned the shelves, looking for the most important thing and the main reason he was about to steal once more. They needed a medical kit, or as Sara had suggested as a substitute, possibly a small sewing kit, something with a pair of scissors. She hadn’t mentioned to him the last time she had used one as standby medical supplies, the time sewing up her arm in the bathroom stall was still too unpleasant a memory to recall. She had however finally admitted to Michael the day before that her stitches needed to come out and he as always had responded with a plan.
They were running out of money fast and Michael knew they couldn’t afford to buy the few basic toiletries they needed and the gas to get them to northern Mexico. So with a resigned reluctance, once the debate had concluded they did indeed have no choice, he started searching the following day through the next few towns for a likely target. He’d found this one just as the lunchtime sun had begun to bleach out the colours of the countryside around them, and emptied the streets as people headed for the shade and siestas. It seemed a possibility. It was on the outskirts of a town, just yards from the highway, and with seemingly only one man working the till inside.
He found a sewing kit and picked it up with a satisfied smile. He checked the list, toothpaste and toothbrushes were still on there unlike, soap and razors which had been scribbled out. He wandered around the end of the aisle and back up the central one, checking as he did for any CCTV’s or mirrors , anything that would give the man at the till a better view of what was happening. He found himself facing the couple of shelves that held the woman’s supplies and he let his eyes roam along the shelf. There seemed to be just two options neither of which appeared to be O’B’s. He snatched up the one that had Regular clearly marked on the box and hoped it would do. He slipped it into his pocket after checking that the man was not watching,
Then he moved to the shampoos choosing one with ‘essence of coconut’ because he had noticed Sara’s hair often smelled of that and slipped the bottle into the other pocket, a smile beginning to curl on his lips at the memory. He looked down to see if it would be visible and frowned at how it made his pocket bulk out. He checked the cost of the razors, they were cheap, but he’d also need soap and he wasn’t sure his pockets could hold anymore. So he sighed and walked on by, his fingers reaching for and rubbing the three day stubble now covering his chin. He picked up two toothbrushes and held them in his hand next to the sewing kit, but popped the toothpaste into his pocket
He approached the man and smiled a hello in Spanish, The man responded, and folded the newspaper he had been reading. As he closed it Michael noticed with horror a small picture of him at the bottom corner of the second page. The headline referring to him as “The Sona fugitive” They were three countries north of Panama and still making the news?
The man had either not read the article or not recognised him under his embryonic beard. Michael handed the sewing kit and toothbrushes over and nodded at two cans of soda in the cooler section of the cabinet. The man bent down to retrieve them and Michael reached into his jean pocket to find a few notes. It was then he remembered with a groan that he’d put the money into his jacket pocket, the one with the shampoo and he struggled to reach around it for the roll of notes. The man was watching him carefully and Michael caught the exact moment when the man’s eyes dropped to his pocket and saw the lid of the shampoo.
“¿Algo mas?” he added suspiciously.
(Is there anything else?)
“No” Michael replied his eyes meeting the man in a standoff of stares
“¿Esta seguro señor?”
(Are you sure senor?)
And he started to move around the side of the counter. Michael grabbed the sewing kit and toothbrushes and bolted, pushing the screen door open with a bang and jumping down the stairs
“We need to go now!” he shouted at Sara and she revved the bike, a couple of times as Michael climbed on behind her and they sped off down the road. She turned once to see a rather small Mexican man shouting and waving his fist at them from the top of his steps.
“RATERO!”
(Thief!)
They drove out of town for a few miles and then she pulled over and dismounted.
“So what happened?” she asked, her eyes searching his strangely sombre face.
“I screwed up, he saw the shampoo I had in my pocket and I ran.” He punctuated his last few words with a shrug.
“Think he will have called the police?” She asked, standing now with her hands on her hips looking back down the road behind them.
“Not sure.” He answered, “Maybe.. “
“We should probably keep on riding for a while and put a bit more distance between us and the store.” She murmured.
He lifted his head as something caught his eye then slid forward across the seats from the pillion to the driver’s seat,
“Sara get on the bike.”
Sara was still looking down the road, and hadn’t heard him.
“Sara…” his voice grew louder and edgy.
“Get on the bike now!”
She turned and gasped at what she saw, heading down the road from the other direction was a patrol car, and there was no doubt that as it approached them it was slowing down. It passed them at only five maybe ten miles an hour, the policeman driving it staring purposefully out of the window towards them. It all seemed to be happening in slow motion as Michael revved the bikes engine and Sara quickly slipped on behind him, He turned back onto the paved part of the road and set off choosing a speed that he hoped would not attract their attention. He watched the patrol car in the bike’s mirror and cursed as he saw it turn slowly in the road and start to follow them.
“Hold on!” he shouted into the wind and he felt Sara inch her arms further around his waist. He accelerated now, leaning into the curve as the bike rounded the next corner. But just seconds later he saw the patrol car once more in the mirror. He revved even harder and felt the pull of the bike as it took off down the road; he overtook a few cars, slipping and swerving between them and then swung round another almost blind corner. When the road straightened he looked off to his right and made an instant decision.
He slowed and turned off the road, slipping between the few bushes that were lining the road then dipping down a shallow escarpment towards a river bed fifty or sixty feet below the level of the road. The bike bumped down the sandy bank and then stuttered on as they made their way slowly along the river’s edge. The water wasn’t very deep, just inches in some places and the wheels splashed through some meandering side streams as it progressed down the river bed. Michael was looking back over his left shoulder, the road was out of sight but they were probably still visible from their higher viewpoint. Looking ahead he could see where the road they had just left turned and crossed over the river on a small bridge. He drove up to it killing the engine just yards away and once Sara had slid off she helped him push the bike further under the bridge, and well out of sight of any traffic on the road.
“Will they search for us?” she asked, looking up to the underside of the bridge as a car thrummed over it, its tires hitting the expansion joints with a dull thud.
“I doubt it.” he replied “But we probably need to stay off the main highways for a while.” He put the bike on the stand and sat down against the concrete foundations of the bridge. The shade was deep and the air was surprisingly cool around them.
He emptied his pockets of the contraband, and then looking up at Sara who was still standing next to the bike he murmured
“C’mere”
She turned and sank down on her knees next to him as he bit through the cellophane that was wrapping the sewing kit.
“Ok talk me through this please…..” And with slightly shaky fingers he started to push her hair away from behind her ear frowning as he revealed the angry looking raised line of skin held together by blue stitches.
It was nearly two hours later when they rejoined the road, Michael pushing with some effort the heavy bike back up the incline. Sara’s arms holding him tightly as they sped off down the road. She found herself staring at the new lines now inked onto her cast. Michael had spent some time after removing her stitches adding more to the simple map on her arm. His arm muscles flexing under the blue green hues of his own more permanent body art as he worked.
However they hadn’t gone too many more miles before the bike began to splutter alarmingly, the engine cutting out several times, causing the bike to slow and then grind to a shuddering halt. Michael walked the bike to the side of the road and tried to restart it. But nothing happened, the engine turned over a couple of times with a high churning noise but there was no life in it. Sara could feel Michael’s frustration through two layers of clothes and climbed off the bike wearily.
“I’ll fix it.” he spoke into the air, and she nodded in response, turning and finding a large rock to sit on and wait.
Michael had always been a systematic person, and although he had never once owned a motorbike, he began to work through the different processes on the bike that combined to produce movement. Fuel system, ignition system, cooling system, lubricants, he checked everything. But he couldn’t find what the problem was and Sara had sensed a rising tide of exasperation emanate from him at his own failings.
They both knew they were vulnerable staying there, the highway was not busy but there had been several cars and trucks pass in just the last few minutes. If the patrol car came past again, they were sitting ducks.
“Perhaps we should move the bike into the bushes Michael, think about finding somewhere to camp tonight a little away from the road?” she suggested tentatively, scraping back an errant piece of hair behind her ear and flinching slightly as she touched the still sensitive strip of skin.
“I said I’ll fix it!” He replied impatiently, his shallow breaths unable to hide his frustrations.
“Ok ok” she responded her hands held high in the air.
Neither had noticed another motorbike approach them and it was only when the loud deceleration of its large engine rumbled into earshot did they both turn. It was a classic bike, like one from the sixties and Michael immediately had the image of Dennis Hopper riding along the highway, his long hair blowing in the breeze, Easy Rider style.
The man had pulled up about ten feet from them and swung his leg over. He was probably in his late fifties, his greying hair was tied neatly back in a pony tail revealing the deeply tanned skin on his lined face, his eyes hidden behind some large aviator glasses. He was dressed in jeans and a rather ancient leather jacket. His pillion passenger stepped off the bike with an elegant ease, dressed in a full set of leathers, and she was already reaching up to remove a full face helmet before he set the bike on its stand. Michael and Sara instinctively moved closer together, and watched the couple silently
“Need some help there?” The man asked, a southern Texan drawl heavy on his tongue.
“No we’re ok thanks.” Michal responded cautiously.
“You’ve got it working then?” the man asked, arching his eyebrow up in surprise as he hadn’t failed to notice several rather vital pieces of the bike were still laying on the floor, waiting for Michael to eliminate them from his list of possible suspects..
“Not quite but I’m getting there.” Michael replied defiantly his hands now resting on his hips.
“Well then let me help you.” the man said in his smooth voice and he moved towards the bike. Michael was unsure what to do. He could struggle on for several more hours, or accept the stranger’s help…The man sensed his hesitation and stepping forward he raised his hand.
“My name’s Bob, this is Jen, always happy to help fellow bikers.” He sounded relaxed and apparently not particularly surprised to meet fellow Americans on Mexican back road. Michael breathed out and took Bob’s hand, just for once he would accept help, they were going nowhere fast without it.
“Thanks, I’m Ted, and …”
“…I’m Amy” Sara had interrupted Michael, if she was going to have an alias she wanted to choose it….” They exchanged a brief look of wearied acceptance at the need for yet more subterfuge.
“Nice to meet you Amy and Ted.” interjected Jen, she had now placed her helmet onto the seat and was scrabbling around in one of the large panniers hanging from their bike.
“Drink?” And she offered Sara a bottle of water. Sara’s hand reached around it and was surprised to feel it cool beneath her fingers.
“Oh”
“Its been in a cool bag,” Jen murmured to Sara’s unspoken question.
“Would you like one Ted?” She asked turning to Michael.
“Its ok we can’t take all your drink, we can share.” He replied and once Sara had passed the bottle over he tipped his head back and gulped down several mouthfuls of cool water. Both women for a moment were transfixed by this, his Adam’s apple bobbled as the muscles in his throat clenched and unclenched and Sara felt a frisson of excitement charge through her like electricity. There was something so incredibly alluring abut this man that even an innocent act of drinking stirred her deep inside.
Bob meanwhile was completely aware of the silent peep show taking place just feet from him and had squatted down next to the bike to check some of the gauges.
Michael had been oblivious of the women staring at him and now bent over Bob nervously watching him check the bike over like some worried parent and a sick child.
“I checked the fuel lines they seemed clear….”
“Has the bike been in water recently?” asked Bob,
“Ummm a little bit yes, but it didn’t get deep.” Michael replied suddenly conscious of Sara’s raised eyebrow.
“Deep enough I reckon ...” Bob muttered back and began to unscrew a protective plate off next to the rear wheel, his thick fingers surprisingly nimble.
“So he’s drowned another?” Sara asked slightly amused
“Another?” Bob’s fingers halted on the screw and he shot a puzzled glance at Michael.
“He told me he drowned his first bike” she replied and grinned back at Jen who was now smiling.
“I am actually here you know” Michael stated rather piqued,
“And the first time was kind of unavoidable…” he added trying not to appear embarrassed but failing.
Bob had been peering under the bike and recovering his squatted position he turned to Michael
“I think I can get it going but there seems to be sand in there as well, you need to get it cleaned out, but probably not here” and he looked around at the rather desolate scrap of dusty ground they were all now parked on.
He stood up quickly and went to his bike and started fiddling with a small piece of equipment mounted between the handlebars. Michael took one last frustrated look back at their bike and followed Bob over. His eyes lit up at the sophisticated GPS unit Bob was now keying in directions. The screen flashed up with a mini map of where they were and then scrolled north, highlighting several gas stations and towns.
“Nice piece of equipment.” Michael murmured, his eyes taking on the familiar glazed look when men and gadgets were mixed.
“Thanks, it kinda helps planning the journey. There’s a small service station about eight miles further on. I suggest we help you get it there and then we can try and sort the problem? “
Michael was once more a mess of indecision, should he let these people help them even more? But it was Sara who had already made the decision. She had walked up behind him and snaked her arm around his waist.
“Sounds like a good idea.” He found her words strangely calming and he smiled as he nodded his head.
“As long as it’s not putting you out, that would be great.” And his arm rested on Sara’s shoulder pulling her closer to him.
Bob had been tinkering with the settings on the bikes turnover and he straddled it briefly as he fired up the engine revving it fiercely for a few seconds before he seemed satisfied and slipped off to allow Michael to mount.
Jen had reached for her helmet again but before climbing on behind Bob she looked at Sara and Michael on their bike with a puzzled expression. She shouted over the now clamorous noise of the two bike’s engines
“Where’s you gear?”
“It was stolen.” Michael responded, grateful that the noisy bikes made any further explanation impossible.
“Bummer” she replied and then finally straddled the seat behind Bob. They waited until Michael and Sara had rejoined the road before pulling out behind them. Michael watched them in his mirror, he was grateful they had stopped to help but they would have to leave them behind as soon as possible, Life was complicated enough without having to remember he was now Ted.
They reached the service station without incident, but it turned out to be just a small café and lodge attached to a rather scruffy gas station and a small garage facing it across the broken paving of the car park. There were several wooden picnic tables skirting the front of the café on a strip of dry grass and Bob and Michael rolled their bikes up and pulled them onto their stands next to the table farthest from the café and the other few people milling about. Bob wandered off to investigate what the garage had to offer and Sara whispered something to Michael and disappeared around the corner to where the public bathrooms were.
Jen had placed her helmet on the table and was now leaning against the weathered edge of the wood watching Bob as he wandered back towards them.
“Its closed, the owners will be back in an hour apparently.” And Michael nodded,
“We can do it ourselves, just need to clean out a few of the contacts.” He added. “Let’s get some food first though, Jen can you sort?”
“Sure.” and she headed off in the direction of the café.
Bob had now sat down at the table, the joints groaning slightly as they took the strain. Michael was unsure how to explain that they probably couldn’t afford the food and hesitantly sat down facing him.
“So… Ted, you heading back to the States?” Bob’s tone was friendly, but enquiring and his stare was directed at the rather scruffy man opposite him.
“Eventually yes.” replied Michael carefully avoiding the elder man’s gaze. There was something about Bob that he found very unsettling. He felt as if the man could see beyond the lies, swipe away their deceits like a screen wiper swishing away a heavy downpour.
“So where’ve you been?”
“Here and there.”
Bob nodded at this, as if it had been an incredibly informative piece of information and Michael frowned. They both sensed they were sizing each other up, circling each other, trying to find the tactical advantage in this seemingly harmless chat.
“Shame about your gear, can’t you just buy some more?”
“I ummm wasn’t being very careful - the wallet with my cards was in one of the outside pockets of the bag…I just have the cash left now.” Michael grimaced inwardly; he knew that had sounded weak, or stupid or possibly both.
“Ahh, a real nuisance then.” Bob responded, stroking his chin and never letting his eyes move away from Michael as they both settled back into silence.
Jen was crossing back to the table, holding a tray weighted down with piles of food and drink. Michael sighed; this was going to be embarrassing, if they paid for all that they would not make it fifty more miles down the road. She placed the tray on the table and he found it impossible to ignore the incredible smells wafting towards him. Bob picked up the large burrito nearest to him and nodded towards the tray
“They’ll get cold.” He murmured before taking his first bite and Michael managed a weak smile before lifting another of the burritos. Bob started to talk, stopping only to chew each mouthful before carrying on with his tales of biking through Central America. Jen sat next to him, nodding away as he told stories she must have heard many times before. He was half way through a story about buying some barbecued meat in Guatemala and finding out it was monkey…when he stopped, his eyes darkened and he switched his gaze to Michael.
“Mr Scofield I suggest you go get your lady and find somewhere to hide for a while.”
Michael had been enjoying the story about the monkey but when he heard his real name on Bob’s tongue he locked eyes with him, his mouth opening with shock. He quickly looked back over his shoulder to see what Bob was now staring at, in time to see a patrol car sweep into the service area.
“Anytime about now Scofield.” Bob persisted in a low voice.
Michael pushed himself up and away from the table and with just one more glance back at the two cops who had stepped out of the car he ran down the side of the café, around the back towards the bathrooms.
Sara had spent the last few minutes, washing herself with difficulty since her left hand was still hampered by the cast, with cold water from the taps. Her skin had felt so grimy and the coolness of the water offset the rather grunginess of her surroundings. She’d considered washing her hair as well; she’d even brought the shampoo in with her but decided she would do that once Bob and Jen had moved on. She had picked up Michael’s unease at having to let these people help them and she knew he would be happier when it was back to just the two of them.
She stepped out of the bathroom into the early evening air, the sun waning in the sky, long shadows beginning to stretch out from the buildings and creep along the dry dusty ground. She walked down to the end and was about to turn the corner leading back to the table when suddenly there was a hand across her mouth, and a strong arm pulling her back, she could feel the body of a man behind her, his warm breath now on her neck. Her eyes opened with fear, until her other senses kicked in and she recognised the blue tattooed lines just visible around his wrist.
“Michael?” She mumbled into his hand
“Shhhhh Sara, there are cops here.”
And he slowly let go, turning her towards him and holding her by her shoulders.
“We need to keep out of sight until they’ve gone ok?” He whispered and she nodded slowly in response, then he grabbed her hand and led her back along the side of the bathrooms and dashed across the four feet of open ground before disappearing behind some large bushes. The police had made a beeline for the picnic table with the Americanos, and the bikes, one of them already unfolding a large piece of paper from his breast pocket. Bob and Jen were tidying up the food and if they had noticed the cops approaching them, they showed no sign.
“Hey were you in Cardenas earlier today?” the first one asked in slightly accented English. Bob looked up and shook his head.
“No, why?”
“We’re looking for a man, he robbed a store there this morning, and we think he is the same man they want down in Panama, he escaped their prison and they’re not happy” The second policeman then held out one of Michael’s wanted posters that had been printed in a hurry after the Sona escape.
Bob took the paper from the cop and made a big deal of looking at it carefully. He then shook his head,
“Nope never seen the guy.”
The first cop snatched it back and was about to turn back to the car when it struck him that there were two bikes…
“The other bike Senor, who does it belong to?”
For a moment there was a flash of indecision between Bob and Jen. Then Jen stood up, and stepped across to Michael and Sara’s bike.
“Its mine, why?”
The officer looked at her and then back at Bob, he shrugged and turned without another word and walked back to the car. His colleague followed him silently after leering at Jen and whispering to his partner.
“It’s not enough to ride him huh? Americano must be no good.”
Michael and Sara had been watching this chilled exchange from the safety of the bushes, and they only emerged once the patrol car had pulled put and headed south along the highway. They made their way slowly back to the picnic table. When they reached it the couples stood facing each other, neither quite sure to acknowledge what had just happened. Finally Michael spoke up.
“Thanks for that.” He murmured to Bob, “How long have you known?”
“As soon as I climbed off my bike Mr Scofield.” Bob responded.
“Michael…its just Michael” he replied almost wearily. Aware that now the dynamics between the two couples had shifted and unsure where it left him and Sara.
“I know…. the famous Michael Scofield, Fox River mastermind…Sona fugitive…” he glanced over towards Sara. “And you are of course his partner in crime… the famous Dr Tancredi.”
Sara managed just a nod; her eyes had fallen onto the one remaining burrito still wrapped tightly in its paper. She licked her lips in anticipation apparently rather more concerned about her complaining stomach than the recent turn of events.
“Do you mind?” She asked dipping her head towards the burrito
Bob laughed, a deep throaty chuckle
“No help yourself Dr Tancredi…”
“Sara I’m Sara.” she replied already ripping the paper from around the warm dough. “Although maybe that should be Bonny - as in Bonny and Clyde?” And she grinned at Michael who shook his head whilst smiling back. He was amazed that she was dealing with all this so well….
They sat and talked until the sun had set and it was just the lights from the café windows that illuminated their faces. Michael listened quietly as Bob told them about his love of biking and the trails he had done by himself and with Jen, mentioning only briefly that he could afford this because he had made millions ten years ago in the first dotcom revolution. He had sold out at the top of the market and was now a part time co-owner of a small web technology company in Silicone Valley. The money had meant he and Jen could easily spend half the year travelling leaving the business in the safe hands of his partner.
He’d become interested in Michael’s story from the first few days after the Fox River breakout, sensing there was much more to this than just eight cons escaping and he avidly followed all the twists and turns through the news and the internet. He had felt vindicated in his interest when Kellerman’s testimony at Sara’s trial had started to reveal the existence of the Company. Knowing there was such a thing, embedded deep into the substructures of the country had begun to niggle at him, strands of thoughts were beginning to connect and make more sense of something he had been puzzling abut for several years. He’d been curious about a rather mysterious customer for his technology that didn’t seem to fit the normal profiles of government, or corporate users. His software was used for specialist encryption and he had forged strong links with the Defence Department and corporations who needed top level online security systems. He now had a sneaking suspicion that the Company had been one of his clients for a while…
He had read about the Sona escape during this trip on the net, and had secretly hoped that the man who was now sitting in front of him would make it out ok…
“I’m not sure what ‘making it’ actually means now.” Replied Michael sombrely…
“I want to get Sara back to the States and safety but after that …I’m not sure.” Sara who had been snuggled up against him, her head resting against his arm yawned, and Bob and Jen watched how Michael’s arms curled even more protectively around her.
.”Well I need to get some shut eye.” Bob finally announced “I think we all do.”
“Yeah “said Michael then reluctantly adding, “We need somewhere to pitch the tent.”
“No need.” replied Jen, “I booked rooms for us.” and she nodded towards the small lodge.
“Rooms?” Sara asked almost dreamily.
“Yes with beds and I do believe there may be a shower.” Jen replied. She stood up,
“Come on, I think I may have some spare clothes you can have Sara, if that’s ok?”
“Clean clothes and a bed? Heaven!” She replied, a slow smile edging across her exhausted face. They headed off towards the lodge leaving the two men at the table. Michael had started to scrape away at a raised part of the wood, brushing his fingers over it slowly, and feeling for the grain. He was obviously struggling to say something, holding back and Bob sat patiently waiting.
“I can’t repay you Bob, at least not yet.” Michael’s voice was serious but also edged with tiredness when he finally spoke.
“I know so please take it as a gift, from someone who admires what you have done ok?” the elder man replied, a kind smile now on his lips.
“There are plenty of things I’ve done that should not be admired Bob, too many…” Michael added looking out into the darkness of the night, his half lidded eyes seeing images from his past that he hoped Bob would never be able to imagine.
“I’ll sort the bikes, chain them together.” explained Bob choosing to ignore this earnest young man’s last statement and Michael just nodded back wearily.
He trusted this older man, he had no idea why and perhaps he was too tired to assess the situation properly but it felt ok. He stood, sighed and then followed Sara towards the room and a promise of a bed and the first decent nights sleep for months.
tbc
Author: pemphredouk
Pairing/Characters: Michael, Sara, Lincoln, LJ,OC, Alex, Sofia Gretchen and Whistler
Rating: Probably NC-17 after the first few chapters
Summary: Michael and Sara discover things, good and bad about themselves as they finally start fighting back. All locations mentioned in the story actually exist and can be found on the google map I've made to accompany this fic. It can be found Google Map of Road Trip here.
Chapter 9: Cardenas
“Are you sure you’re ok with this?” he asked with concern, his head tilting down to make eye contact with her. She nodded quickly, they didn’t have a choice. They simply did not have enough money to reach Ascension; the place Michael had apparently stashed more supplies when planning the original break out. They’d already talked about this to the point of exhaustion recalling their conversation from the day before.
They’d made camp and almost immediately started to discuss the rights and wrongs of stealing with the emotional clarity and passion expected of hardened members of their respective debating societies at High school. Dissecting and examining the moral arguments set against the actual practicalities of being fugitives and over five hundred miles away from any resources.
Michael had admitted to his moment of personal anguish after he had taken the fish oil from the store, retelling shamefully how he had pushed the old man to the floor. Desperate to escape, not only the store but also his conscience. Sara had taken up her favourite position sitting between his bent legs and had pushed herself back against his chest. She hugged his knees tightly; aware of how heavy the guilt would have weighed on him. Then she had responded in a hushed voice with her own guilty past. A past of stealing from her own home, from relatives, from friends at college, from anyone unlucky enough to enter her circle of acquaintances to fund the drugs she craved. A circle of thievery that had spiralled out of control once her father withdrew her generous allowance in a hopeless attempt to control her addiction. Michael had joined his hands together around her waist and hugged her back, his lips nuzzling against her neck to soothe her, whispering his love and understanding.
“But let me help.” She entreated, knowing he was only doing this for her.
“No” he replied rather too quickly, “Its safer this way, you stay with the bike ok? It won’t take long.” And then in an attempt to distract her from any further argument he added. “Is there anything else you want to add to the list.” and he checked down the items scribbled on a torn out page from his notebook in Sara’s less than neat handwriting.
A murmured “Oh” escaped his lips on noticing for the first time the second thing on it.
“Errmm…” a slight look of panic flashed in his eyes
“I’ve umm…never bought these before, is there a size…or……ummm type I need to get?” His embarrassment was endearing and she smiled
“No whatever they have, these small stores normally just stock the standard ones. Unless…”
“Unless?” his eyes panicking once more
“Unless they have a choice, then ones without applicators please, O.B’s would be good.”
He nodded, although he was obviously pondering what standard actually meant and why the hell they needed applicators. He pursed his lips cursing his inability to sustain any relationship in the past beyond the point where he would have developed an understanding of sanitary protection.
“Please be careful, Michael.” she hesitated her hand reaching out to touch his arm.
“Hey I robbed a bank this should be easy…” adopting an air of confidence that neither quite bought.
“Yeah and you got caught.” She added with a smirk
“I meant that to happen” he replied pretending to take offence.
“Well you would say that…wouldn’t you.” she responded with a smile and he grinned back as he climbed the three wooden steps to the small porch outside the store.
She moved back to the bike, leaning against it then looking around the dusty parking area she slipped one leg over and tottered the bike off the stand….just in case….
Michael smiled warily at the man behind the counter as he wandered down the first aisle, the paper pinched between his fingers. He scanned the shelves, looking for the most important thing and the main reason he was about to steal once more. They needed a medical kit, or as Sara had suggested as a substitute, possibly a small sewing kit, something with a pair of scissors. She hadn’t mentioned to him the last time she had used one as standby medical supplies, the time sewing up her arm in the bathroom stall was still too unpleasant a memory to recall. She had however finally admitted to Michael the day before that her stitches needed to come out and he as always had responded with a plan.
They were running out of money fast and Michael knew they couldn’t afford to buy the few basic toiletries they needed and the gas to get them to northern Mexico. So with a resigned reluctance, once the debate had concluded they did indeed have no choice, he started searching the following day through the next few towns for a likely target. He’d found this one just as the lunchtime sun had begun to bleach out the colours of the countryside around them, and emptied the streets as people headed for the shade and siestas. It seemed a possibility. It was on the outskirts of a town, just yards from the highway, and with seemingly only one man working the till inside.
He found a sewing kit and picked it up with a satisfied smile. He checked the list, toothpaste and toothbrushes were still on there unlike, soap and razors which had been scribbled out. He wandered around the end of the aisle and back up the central one, checking as he did for any CCTV’s or mirrors , anything that would give the man at the till a better view of what was happening. He found himself facing the couple of shelves that held the woman’s supplies and he let his eyes roam along the shelf. There seemed to be just two options neither of which appeared to be O’B’s. He snatched up the one that had Regular clearly marked on the box and hoped it would do. He slipped it into his pocket after checking that the man was not watching,
Then he moved to the shampoos choosing one with ‘essence of coconut’ because he had noticed Sara’s hair often smelled of that and slipped the bottle into the other pocket, a smile beginning to curl on his lips at the memory. He looked down to see if it would be visible and frowned at how it made his pocket bulk out. He checked the cost of the razors, they were cheap, but he’d also need soap and he wasn’t sure his pockets could hold anymore. So he sighed and walked on by, his fingers reaching for and rubbing the three day stubble now covering his chin. He picked up two toothbrushes and held them in his hand next to the sewing kit, but popped the toothpaste into his pocket
He approached the man and smiled a hello in Spanish, The man responded, and folded the newspaper he had been reading. As he closed it Michael noticed with horror a small picture of him at the bottom corner of the second page. The headline referring to him as “The Sona fugitive” They were three countries north of Panama and still making the news?
The man had either not read the article or not recognised him under his embryonic beard. Michael handed the sewing kit and toothbrushes over and nodded at two cans of soda in the cooler section of the cabinet. The man bent down to retrieve them and Michael reached into his jean pocket to find a few notes. It was then he remembered with a groan that he’d put the money into his jacket pocket, the one with the shampoo and he struggled to reach around it for the roll of notes. The man was watching him carefully and Michael caught the exact moment when the man’s eyes dropped to his pocket and saw the lid of the shampoo.
“¿Algo mas?” he added suspiciously.
(Is there anything else?)
“No” Michael replied his eyes meeting the man in a standoff of stares
“¿Esta seguro señor?”
(Are you sure senor?)
And he started to move around the side of the counter. Michael grabbed the sewing kit and toothbrushes and bolted, pushing the screen door open with a bang and jumping down the stairs
“We need to go now!” he shouted at Sara and she revved the bike, a couple of times as Michael climbed on behind her and they sped off down the road. She turned once to see a rather small Mexican man shouting and waving his fist at them from the top of his steps.
“RATERO!”
(Thief!)
They drove out of town for a few miles and then she pulled over and dismounted.
“So what happened?” she asked, her eyes searching his strangely sombre face.
“I screwed up, he saw the shampoo I had in my pocket and I ran.” He punctuated his last few words with a shrug.
“Think he will have called the police?” She asked, standing now with her hands on her hips looking back down the road behind them.
“Not sure.” He answered, “Maybe.. “
“We should probably keep on riding for a while and put a bit more distance between us and the store.” She murmured.
He lifted his head as something caught his eye then slid forward across the seats from the pillion to the driver’s seat,
“Sara get on the bike.”
Sara was still looking down the road, and hadn’t heard him.
“Sara…” his voice grew louder and edgy.
“Get on the bike now!”
She turned and gasped at what she saw, heading down the road from the other direction was a patrol car, and there was no doubt that as it approached them it was slowing down. It passed them at only five maybe ten miles an hour, the policeman driving it staring purposefully out of the window towards them. It all seemed to be happening in slow motion as Michael revved the bikes engine and Sara quickly slipped on behind him, He turned back onto the paved part of the road and set off choosing a speed that he hoped would not attract their attention. He watched the patrol car in the bike’s mirror and cursed as he saw it turn slowly in the road and start to follow them.
“Hold on!” he shouted into the wind and he felt Sara inch her arms further around his waist. He accelerated now, leaning into the curve as the bike rounded the next corner. But just seconds later he saw the patrol car once more in the mirror. He revved even harder and felt the pull of the bike as it took off down the road; he overtook a few cars, slipping and swerving between them and then swung round another almost blind corner. When the road straightened he looked off to his right and made an instant decision.
He slowed and turned off the road, slipping between the few bushes that were lining the road then dipping down a shallow escarpment towards a river bed fifty or sixty feet below the level of the road. The bike bumped down the sandy bank and then stuttered on as they made their way slowly along the river’s edge. The water wasn’t very deep, just inches in some places and the wheels splashed through some meandering side streams as it progressed down the river bed. Michael was looking back over his left shoulder, the road was out of sight but they were probably still visible from their higher viewpoint. Looking ahead he could see where the road they had just left turned and crossed over the river on a small bridge. He drove up to it killing the engine just yards away and once Sara had slid off she helped him push the bike further under the bridge, and well out of sight of any traffic on the road.
“Will they search for us?” she asked, looking up to the underside of the bridge as a car thrummed over it, its tires hitting the expansion joints with a dull thud.
“I doubt it.” he replied “But we probably need to stay off the main highways for a while.” He put the bike on the stand and sat down against the concrete foundations of the bridge. The shade was deep and the air was surprisingly cool around them.
He emptied his pockets of the contraband, and then looking up at Sara who was still standing next to the bike he murmured
“C’mere”
She turned and sank down on her knees next to him as he bit through the cellophane that was wrapping the sewing kit.
“Ok talk me through this please…..” And with slightly shaky fingers he started to push her hair away from behind her ear frowning as he revealed the angry looking raised line of skin held together by blue stitches.
It was nearly two hours later when they rejoined the road, Michael pushing with some effort the heavy bike back up the incline. Sara’s arms holding him tightly as they sped off down the road. She found herself staring at the new lines now inked onto her cast. Michael had spent some time after removing her stitches adding more to the simple map on her arm. His arm muscles flexing under the blue green hues of his own more permanent body art as he worked.
However they hadn’t gone too many more miles before the bike began to splutter alarmingly, the engine cutting out several times, causing the bike to slow and then grind to a shuddering halt. Michael walked the bike to the side of the road and tried to restart it. But nothing happened, the engine turned over a couple of times with a high churning noise but there was no life in it. Sara could feel Michael’s frustration through two layers of clothes and climbed off the bike wearily.
“I’ll fix it.” he spoke into the air, and she nodded in response, turning and finding a large rock to sit on and wait.
Michael had always been a systematic person, and although he had never once owned a motorbike, he began to work through the different processes on the bike that combined to produce movement. Fuel system, ignition system, cooling system, lubricants, he checked everything. But he couldn’t find what the problem was and Sara had sensed a rising tide of exasperation emanate from him at his own failings.
They both knew they were vulnerable staying there, the highway was not busy but there had been several cars and trucks pass in just the last few minutes. If the patrol car came past again, they were sitting ducks.
“Perhaps we should move the bike into the bushes Michael, think about finding somewhere to camp tonight a little away from the road?” she suggested tentatively, scraping back an errant piece of hair behind her ear and flinching slightly as she touched the still sensitive strip of skin.
“I said I’ll fix it!” He replied impatiently, his shallow breaths unable to hide his frustrations.
“Ok ok” she responded her hands held high in the air.
Neither had noticed another motorbike approach them and it was only when the loud deceleration of its large engine rumbled into earshot did they both turn. It was a classic bike, like one from the sixties and Michael immediately had the image of Dennis Hopper riding along the highway, his long hair blowing in the breeze, Easy Rider style.
The man had pulled up about ten feet from them and swung his leg over. He was probably in his late fifties, his greying hair was tied neatly back in a pony tail revealing the deeply tanned skin on his lined face, his eyes hidden behind some large aviator glasses. He was dressed in jeans and a rather ancient leather jacket. His pillion passenger stepped off the bike with an elegant ease, dressed in a full set of leathers, and she was already reaching up to remove a full face helmet before he set the bike on its stand. Michael and Sara instinctively moved closer together, and watched the couple silently
“Need some help there?” The man asked, a southern Texan drawl heavy on his tongue.
“No we’re ok thanks.” Michal responded cautiously.
“You’ve got it working then?” the man asked, arching his eyebrow up in surprise as he hadn’t failed to notice several rather vital pieces of the bike were still laying on the floor, waiting for Michael to eliminate them from his list of possible suspects..
“Not quite but I’m getting there.” Michael replied defiantly his hands now resting on his hips.
“Well then let me help you.” the man said in his smooth voice and he moved towards the bike. Michael was unsure what to do. He could struggle on for several more hours, or accept the stranger’s help…The man sensed his hesitation and stepping forward he raised his hand.
“My name’s Bob, this is Jen, always happy to help fellow bikers.” He sounded relaxed and apparently not particularly surprised to meet fellow Americans on Mexican back road. Michael breathed out and took Bob’s hand, just for once he would accept help, they were going nowhere fast without it.
“Thanks, I’m Ted, and …”
“…I’m Amy” Sara had interrupted Michael, if she was going to have an alias she wanted to choose it….” They exchanged a brief look of wearied acceptance at the need for yet more subterfuge.
“Nice to meet you Amy and Ted.” interjected Jen, she had now placed her helmet onto the seat and was scrabbling around in one of the large panniers hanging from their bike.
“Drink?” And she offered Sara a bottle of water. Sara’s hand reached around it and was surprised to feel it cool beneath her fingers.
“Oh”
“Its been in a cool bag,” Jen murmured to Sara’s unspoken question.
“Would you like one Ted?” She asked turning to Michael.
“Its ok we can’t take all your drink, we can share.” He replied and once Sara had passed the bottle over he tipped his head back and gulped down several mouthfuls of cool water. Both women for a moment were transfixed by this, his Adam’s apple bobbled as the muscles in his throat clenched and unclenched and Sara felt a frisson of excitement charge through her like electricity. There was something so incredibly alluring abut this man that even an innocent act of drinking stirred her deep inside.
Bob meanwhile was completely aware of the silent peep show taking place just feet from him and had squatted down next to the bike to check some of the gauges.
Michael had been oblivious of the women staring at him and now bent over Bob nervously watching him check the bike over like some worried parent and a sick child.
“I checked the fuel lines they seemed clear….”
“Has the bike been in water recently?” asked Bob,
“Ummm a little bit yes, but it didn’t get deep.” Michael replied suddenly conscious of Sara’s raised eyebrow.
“Deep enough I reckon ...” Bob muttered back and began to unscrew a protective plate off next to the rear wheel, his thick fingers surprisingly nimble.
“So he’s drowned another?” Sara asked slightly amused
“Another?” Bob’s fingers halted on the screw and he shot a puzzled glance at Michael.
“He told me he drowned his first bike” she replied and grinned back at Jen who was now smiling.
“I am actually here you know” Michael stated rather piqued,
“And the first time was kind of unavoidable…” he added trying not to appear embarrassed but failing.
Bob had been peering under the bike and recovering his squatted position he turned to Michael
“I think I can get it going but there seems to be sand in there as well, you need to get it cleaned out, but probably not here” and he looked around at the rather desolate scrap of dusty ground they were all now parked on.
He stood up quickly and went to his bike and started fiddling with a small piece of equipment mounted between the handlebars. Michael took one last frustrated look back at their bike and followed Bob over. His eyes lit up at the sophisticated GPS unit Bob was now keying in directions. The screen flashed up with a mini map of where they were and then scrolled north, highlighting several gas stations and towns.
“Nice piece of equipment.” Michael murmured, his eyes taking on the familiar glazed look when men and gadgets were mixed.
“Thanks, it kinda helps planning the journey. There’s a small service station about eight miles further on. I suggest we help you get it there and then we can try and sort the problem? “
Michael was once more a mess of indecision, should he let these people help them even more? But it was Sara who had already made the decision. She had walked up behind him and snaked her arm around his waist.
“Sounds like a good idea.” He found her words strangely calming and he smiled as he nodded his head.
“As long as it’s not putting you out, that would be great.” And his arm rested on Sara’s shoulder pulling her closer to him.
Bob had been tinkering with the settings on the bikes turnover and he straddled it briefly as he fired up the engine revving it fiercely for a few seconds before he seemed satisfied and slipped off to allow Michael to mount.
Jen had reached for her helmet again but before climbing on behind Bob she looked at Sara and Michael on their bike with a puzzled expression. She shouted over the now clamorous noise of the two bike’s engines
“Where’s you gear?”
“It was stolen.” Michael responded, grateful that the noisy bikes made any further explanation impossible.
“Bummer” she replied and then finally straddled the seat behind Bob. They waited until Michael and Sara had rejoined the road before pulling out behind them. Michael watched them in his mirror, he was grateful they had stopped to help but they would have to leave them behind as soon as possible, Life was complicated enough without having to remember he was now Ted.
They reached the service station without incident, but it turned out to be just a small café and lodge attached to a rather scruffy gas station and a small garage facing it across the broken paving of the car park. There were several wooden picnic tables skirting the front of the café on a strip of dry grass and Bob and Michael rolled their bikes up and pulled them onto their stands next to the table farthest from the café and the other few people milling about. Bob wandered off to investigate what the garage had to offer and Sara whispered something to Michael and disappeared around the corner to where the public bathrooms were.
Jen had placed her helmet on the table and was now leaning against the weathered edge of the wood watching Bob as he wandered back towards them.
“Its closed, the owners will be back in an hour apparently.” And Michael nodded,
“We can do it ourselves, just need to clean out a few of the contacts.” He added. “Let’s get some food first though, Jen can you sort?”
“Sure.” and she headed off in the direction of the café.
Bob had now sat down at the table, the joints groaning slightly as they took the strain. Michael was unsure how to explain that they probably couldn’t afford the food and hesitantly sat down facing him.
“So… Ted, you heading back to the States?” Bob’s tone was friendly, but enquiring and his stare was directed at the rather scruffy man opposite him.
“Eventually yes.” replied Michael carefully avoiding the elder man’s gaze. There was something about Bob that he found very unsettling. He felt as if the man could see beyond the lies, swipe away their deceits like a screen wiper swishing away a heavy downpour.
“So where’ve you been?”
“Here and there.”
Bob nodded at this, as if it had been an incredibly informative piece of information and Michael frowned. They both sensed they were sizing each other up, circling each other, trying to find the tactical advantage in this seemingly harmless chat.
“Shame about your gear, can’t you just buy some more?”
“I ummm wasn’t being very careful - the wallet with my cards was in one of the outside pockets of the bag…I just have the cash left now.” Michael grimaced inwardly; he knew that had sounded weak, or stupid or possibly both.
“Ahh, a real nuisance then.” Bob responded, stroking his chin and never letting his eyes move away from Michael as they both settled back into silence.
Jen was crossing back to the table, holding a tray weighted down with piles of food and drink. Michael sighed; this was going to be embarrassing, if they paid for all that they would not make it fifty more miles down the road. She placed the tray on the table and he found it impossible to ignore the incredible smells wafting towards him. Bob picked up the large burrito nearest to him and nodded towards the tray
“They’ll get cold.” He murmured before taking his first bite and Michael managed a weak smile before lifting another of the burritos. Bob started to talk, stopping only to chew each mouthful before carrying on with his tales of biking through Central America. Jen sat next to him, nodding away as he told stories she must have heard many times before. He was half way through a story about buying some barbecued meat in Guatemala and finding out it was monkey…when he stopped, his eyes darkened and he switched his gaze to Michael.
“Mr Scofield I suggest you go get your lady and find somewhere to hide for a while.”
Michael had been enjoying the story about the monkey but when he heard his real name on Bob’s tongue he locked eyes with him, his mouth opening with shock. He quickly looked back over his shoulder to see what Bob was now staring at, in time to see a patrol car sweep into the service area.
“Anytime about now Scofield.” Bob persisted in a low voice.
Michael pushed himself up and away from the table and with just one more glance back at the two cops who had stepped out of the car he ran down the side of the café, around the back towards the bathrooms.
Sara had spent the last few minutes, washing herself with difficulty since her left hand was still hampered by the cast, with cold water from the taps. Her skin had felt so grimy and the coolness of the water offset the rather grunginess of her surroundings. She’d considered washing her hair as well; she’d even brought the shampoo in with her but decided she would do that once Bob and Jen had moved on. She had picked up Michael’s unease at having to let these people help them and she knew he would be happier when it was back to just the two of them.
She stepped out of the bathroom into the early evening air, the sun waning in the sky, long shadows beginning to stretch out from the buildings and creep along the dry dusty ground. She walked down to the end and was about to turn the corner leading back to the table when suddenly there was a hand across her mouth, and a strong arm pulling her back, she could feel the body of a man behind her, his warm breath now on her neck. Her eyes opened with fear, until her other senses kicked in and she recognised the blue tattooed lines just visible around his wrist.
“Michael?” She mumbled into his hand
“Shhhhh Sara, there are cops here.”
And he slowly let go, turning her towards him and holding her by her shoulders.
“We need to keep out of sight until they’ve gone ok?” He whispered and she nodded slowly in response, then he grabbed her hand and led her back along the side of the bathrooms and dashed across the four feet of open ground before disappearing behind some large bushes. The police had made a beeline for the picnic table with the Americanos, and the bikes, one of them already unfolding a large piece of paper from his breast pocket. Bob and Jen were tidying up the food and if they had noticed the cops approaching them, they showed no sign.
“Hey were you in Cardenas earlier today?” the first one asked in slightly accented English. Bob looked up and shook his head.
“No, why?”
“We’re looking for a man, he robbed a store there this morning, and we think he is the same man they want down in Panama, he escaped their prison and they’re not happy” The second policeman then held out one of Michael’s wanted posters that had been printed in a hurry after the Sona escape.
Bob took the paper from the cop and made a big deal of looking at it carefully. He then shook his head,
“Nope never seen the guy.”
The first cop snatched it back and was about to turn back to the car when it struck him that there were two bikes…
“The other bike Senor, who does it belong to?”
For a moment there was a flash of indecision between Bob and Jen. Then Jen stood up, and stepped across to Michael and Sara’s bike.
“Its mine, why?”
The officer looked at her and then back at Bob, he shrugged and turned without another word and walked back to the car. His colleague followed him silently after leering at Jen and whispering to his partner.
“It’s not enough to ride him huh? Americano must be no good.”
Michael and Sara had been watching this chilled exchange from the safety of the bushes, and they only emerged once the patrol car had pulled put and headed south along the highway. They made their way slowly back to the picnic table. When they reached it the couples stood facing each other, neither quite sure to acknowledge what had just happened. Finally Michael spoke up.
“Thanks for that.” He murmured to Bob, “How long have you known?”
“As soon as I climbed off my bike Mr Scofield.” Bob responded.
“Michael…its just Michael” he replied almost wearily. Aware that now the dynamics between the two couples had shifted and unsure where it left him and Sara.
“I know…. the famous Michael Scofield, Fox River mastermind…Sona fugitive…” he glanced over towards Sara. “And you are of course his partner in crime… the famous Dr Tancredi.”
Sara managed just a nod; her eyes had fallen onto the one remaining burrito still wrapped tightly in its paper. She licked her lips in anticipation apparently rather more concerned about her complaining stomach than the recent turn of events.
“Do you mind?” She asked dipping her head towards the burrito
Bob laughed, a deep throaty chuckle
“No help yourself Dr Tancredi…”
“Sara I’m Sara.” she replied already ripping the paper from around the warm dough. “Although maybe that should be Bonny - as in Bonny and Clyde?” And she grinned at Michael who shook his head whilst smiling back. He was amazed that she was dealing with all this so well….
They sat and talked until the sun had set and it was just the lights from the café windows that illuminated their faces. Michael listened quietly as Bob told them about his love of biking and the trails he had done by himself and with Jen, mentioning only briefly that he could afford this because he had made millions ten years ago in the first dotcom revolution. He had sold out at the top of the market and was now a part time co-owner of a small web technology company in Silicone Valley. The money had meant he and Jen could easily spend half the year travelling leaving the business in the safe hands of his partner.
He’d become interested in Michael’s story from the first few days after the Fox River breakout, sensing there was much more to this than just eight cons escaping and he avidly followed all the twists and turns through the news and the internet. He had felt vindicated in his interest when Kellerman’s testimony at Sara’s trial had started to reveal the existence of the Company. Knowing there was such a thing, embedded deep into the substructures of the country had begun to niggle at him, strands of thoughts were beginning to connect and make more sense of something he had been puzzling abut for several years. He’d been curious about a rather mysterious customer for his technology that didn’t seem to fit the normal profiles of government, or corporate users. His software was used for specialist encryption and he had forged strong links with the Defence Department and corporations who needed top level online security systems. He now had a sneaking suspicion that the Company had been one of his clients for a while…
He had read about the Sona escape during this trip on the net, and had secretly hoped that the man who was now sitting in front of him would make it out ok…
“I’m not sure what ‘making it’ actually means now.” Replied Michael sombrely…
“I want to get Sara back to the States and safety but after that …I’m not sure.” Sara who had been snuggled up against him, her head resting against his arm yawned, and Bob and Jen watched how Michael’s arms curled even more protectively around her.
.”Well I need to get some shut eye.” Bob finally announced “I think we all do.”
“Yeah “said Michael then reluctantly adding, “We need somewhere to pitch the tent.”
“No need.” replied Jen, “I booked rooms for us.” and she nodded towards the small lodge.
“Rooms?” Sara asked almost dreamily.
“Yes with beds and I do believe there may be a shower.” Jen replied. She stood up,
“Come on, I think I may have some spare clothes you can have Sara, if that’s ok?”
“Clean clothes and a bed? Heaven!” She replied, a slow smile edging across her exhausted face. They headed off towards the lodge leaving the two men at the table. Michael had started to scrape away at a raised part of the wood, brushing his fingers over it slowly, and feeling for the grain. He was obviously struggling to say something, holding back and Bob sat patiently waiting.
“I can’t repay you Bob, at least not yet.” Michael’s voice was serious but also edged with tiredness when he finally spoke.
“I know so please take it as a gift, from someone who admires what you have done ok?” the elder man replied, a kind smile now on his lips.
“There are plenty of things I’ve done that should not be admired Bob, too many…” Michael added looking out into the darkness of the night, his half lidded eyes seeing images from his past that he hoped Bob would never be able to imagine.
“I’ll sort the bikes, chain them together.” explained Bob choosing to ignore this earnest young man’s last statement and Michael just nodded back wearily.
He trusted this older man, he had no idea why and perhaps he was too tired to assess the situation properly but it felt ok. He stood, sighed and then followed Sara towards the room and a promise of a bed and the first decent nights sleep for months.
tbc