Walking Dead 1. Nobody escapes from Alcatraz

_Hey Daddy!_

_Just checking up on you to see if you were doing okay! I've got lots of colouring books to show you when you get back – I finished them all, and I made a special one just for you! It's with this letter, but hopefully it doesn't fall off the boat before you can see it. _

_Mommy's been helping with my writing, and I'm getting pretty good at this stuff! I even wrote a little story for my teacher, Ms. Moore, and she said that I might be able to become like Shakespeare someday! I don't know who that is, but he sounds pretty cool._

_I miss you lots! I get sad when you're not around :( Sometimes I have to lie about you at school and just tell kids that you're really far away some place… but Mommy won't tell me where. Why can't you come home?! Are you sick or something? I hope that I didn't give you the flu!_

_Okay… well, Mommy says that I have to go now, so that's all I've got to say. _

_Please come home soon, Daddy. I want you to be happy and lucky too!_

_Love you lots,_

_Clementine _

"God fucking damn it…" I mutter, tears burning my eyes as the letter gets scrunched up in my hands. I choke out a sob as the droplets fall off of my face and onto the stone floor; marking their territory with splashes as I sit on the bed with my head in my hands. I've looked over this letter at least fifty times today, and I still can't control myself. Carley must have helped her write this, as I know for a fact that Clem wouldn't have been able to do it so neatly by herself. After all, she's just eight years old.

Or at least, she was when she wrote this thing. Ten years is a long time to be stuck in prison.

You heard right – ten years. Ten. Motherfucking. Years. This is the only thing left of my family that I actually have left. The guards ordered us a long time ago to hand over any personal possessions to them for incineration, but I for damn sure wasn't going to give in. Out of pure spite, I handed them a used napkin that I blew my nose with; saying how my daughter gave it to me for Christmas one year. I told the guard to fuck off and he went on his way.

It's 1963 right now, if I recall correctly. I overheard Larry, the warden, mention it to one of his higher officials one night when he assumed we were all sleeping. They never tell us what day or time it is so that we can forget how long it's been since we were shipped off to this horrible place… but I haven't forgotten. I'll never forget, not until the day I die. This hunk of rock hasn't broken me yet, but I've been one of the fortunate ones.

Alcatraz Island – some say it's impenetrable and escape-proof; that nobody who goes inside ever comes back out. Those that do are traumatized after all the crazy shit that they go through, whether it be through torture, mental anguish, or just the absolute feeling of hopelessness as they lay awake at night; listening to the waves crashing on the shore and realizing that they're on a fucking island out in the San Francisco Bay.

And for the most part, those people would be correct.

For me, though, the most mind-numbing thing about being out here is not the beatings that the guards might give you if they're feeling in the mood. No, those I've gotten accustomed to, and I've learned how to avoid them for the most part by playing it safe.

The thing that really grinds my gears is hearing the same fucking songs on loop every damn day. _He's So Fine, Surfin' Motherfucking USA, Sugar Shack _and _The End of the World… _that's more torture than any beating or electric shock could ever give to me at this point. I'm pretty sure my ears have bled multiple times just listening to that play on the loudspeakers all the time, and I'm almost certain that Larry's doing it on purpose. That fucking asshole…

"Everett, are you bitching _again?_"

"Can it, Carver," I spit, unable to see him through the walls but still able to hear his gravelly voice through the small hole at the top. "If you had a daughter of your own, then you'd understand…"

"Fucking Christ… If I had a kid, then I wouldn't have been so stupid as to get winding myself all up in here!" he chastises, no doubt only bugging me because he's got nothing better to do. "It's been ten years mate, just let 'em go already. Save yourself the trouble."

"Clementine hasn't given up on me," I bite back, glaring at the wall as if I can blast right through it, "and I sure as hell won't give up on her."

Hearing Bill chuckle bitterly, I growl in my seat and stand up on top of the shitty little sink that I've got in here to look over into his cell. It's still tough to see, but I can at least see that Carver's laying down on his bed staring up at the ceiling; tossing a piece of paper-mache up into the air before catching it once again.

"Just because you've given up hope doesn't mean that I have to," I chide, glaring at the man as he closes his eyes. "Unlike you, I've got something to work towards."

"We've both been here ten years, Lee. Ten years of our lives just flushed down the fucking toilet," he remarks, shaking his head as he places the paper-mache on his chest. "Give it up – your family's gone, and so is mine. There's nobody still waiting for you out there! People change, lives change! Instead of expecting Clem to constantly look for you to come home, maybe you should get your head out of your ass and realize she's got her own life to worry about!"

Shaking my head, I huff and step back down onto the floor of my cell; wallowing in my own miseries. Perhaps I have been living in a delusion the whole time, and that Clem could very well be better off without me in her life. I mean, who would want a murderer as their foster parent, and a convicted felon at that? Carley certainly didn't seem to think so, and that's probably why I haven't heard from either of them in so long.

I've sent back one letter per year, just hoping for the miniscule chance that Clem would write back to me… but my hopes have been dashed every time. It's heartbreaking to realize just how much I had to leave behind – I had a beautiful wife, the most amazing foster child I could've asked for, a decent house, and a pretty great job working at the steel mill. Life after the war was pretty bumping – that's why they were called the Golden Years, after all. America was on top of the world with our economy, military, jobs, everything. Life was peaceful at home, and I was loving every second of it.

Then Carley had to go sleep with some fucker named Nick.

I'll admit it – alcohol and anger do not mix well together, but what would you have done in my shoes? If you saw your wife and some twenty year old fucker getting it on in some dinky motel room, leaving your kid behind at home while you had to sneak off to find the bastard, wouldn't you be pissed off too?

I sure as hell was, and that's why I snapped his neck and tossed his body off the railing of the motor-inn. I didn't regret a damn thing… until the sentence came through. Then I realized what I had just thrown away, and I felt absolutely sick to my stomach.

The rest, as they say, is history. I got driven out to San Francisco on the longest bus ride of my life, and then sent off on the first ship to Alcatraz. I swear, that boat trip felt like I was literally going to the gates of hell – nothing but dark grey buildings with a dock, some foliage and water as far as the eye could see. When Larry came out on the docks to take a look at the new inmates (one of which was William Carver), he spit in our faces and escorted us into the prison.

Been here ever since.

"HEY! WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO GET SOME GRUB AROUND HERE, HUH?!" shouts one of the most obnoxious (but still relatively friendly when he wants to be) men I've ever met – Kenny. I don't think he's physically capable of closing his mouth with the way that he talks, and Carver's actually tried to hurt him on multiple occasions because of it. Luckily nothing ever really comes of it, save for the guards sending the both of them off to isolation for a day. Trust me when I tell you that that does the trick – nobody wants to get stuck in a confined room with nobody else around all day.

I can't help but chuckle when I hear Carver groan again, leaning my head back on the stone walls behind me.

"Would you just shut the fuck up already?" he yells, obviously getting fed up with the constant talking. "Or would you like one of the guards to come spoon-feed you? What are you, two years old?"

"I'm doing you lot a favour, asswipe! If you'd clean your ears out, old man, then maybe you'd realize that!"

"You're just fucking lucky that Everett's between the two of us, _Kenneth!_" he mocks, cracking his knuckles as I hear him toss and turn on the bed. "Otherwise you'd be getting a shiv to the neck!"

"Ha! I'd take that over having to listen to you two bitch all day," I comment, interrupting them as I hear them both get louder. "Would you two just shut the fuck up?! Kenny, nobody's coming, so cool your jets, man! And Bill, what good is yelling back gonna do?! You're sucking up my air with the way you're going at it!"

That seems to do the trick thankfully, even though I can still hear them grumbling to themselves miserably while I go up to look out of my iron bars. There are two floors in blocks B and C from what I can tell, with most of the cells being filled with the exception of a few. There used to be patrons in there, but nobody's seen or heard from either of those prisoners for a few months now. Their whereabouts have been passed around like a ghost story, with some believing that they were taken for capital punishment, while others think that they were simply released a little bit early – though that's still up for debate.

Still, there are those who (namely Kenny) believe that the prisoners managed to get off of this piece of shit island and swim back to safety. Personally, I think he's crazy.

"You looking at it, too?" Kenny suddenly asks, and I can see his hands wrapped around the bars in the same fashion as mine are. "I'm telling you man, there's no way they just sent them back. They were here for, what, a few months at the most? They wouldn't send you here for that short of a sentence. They definitely tried to get out of here, Lee."

"They'd be stupid to try that, Kenny," I point out, tired of having the same conversation every single time. It never goes anywhere. "Look, we've been over this before – nobody escapes Alcatraz. Nobody. The last one who tried got hung from the rafters."

"I thought this place didn't deal out that kind of shit?"

"It didn't," I remark bitterly, reminded of the fact that at one point people didn't actually get executed out here. "That all changed when Larry took over – the old blowhard's changed the rule as soon as he stepped into power. That's when the escape attempts really started to change."

"Is he complainin' again, Lee?"

"Was I talkin' to you, farm boy?!" Kenny snaps, smacking his hand on the iron bars as he yells at Luke some more. "Go back to your fantasy-land where you and Jane are fooling around together; rolling on the ground like a couple of fucking teenagers!"

"You know, you've got a _lot _of nerve, Kenny!" Luke retorts, getting pissed off himself. To the right of me, I hear Carver chuckling at their pointless argument as I shake my head in embarrassment. These two clowns haven't seen the horrors that Bill and I have witnessed, not yet anyways. "You've been here for, what, a fucking year?! Oh _boo-hoo! _Cry me a river, you damn redneck! You keep bitching the way you are, and you'll find yourself in the electric chair faster than you think!"

The one thing that I hadn't realized about Luke until a while ago… well, guess who his best friend used to be at one point? That's right, Nick. He's come to me countless times saying how much he misses his old buddy, and that I should've met him because _he was such a great guy_.

Oh, I knew the guy alright, Luke. Trust me when I tell you that he was anything but great!

Thankfully (for both our sakes), Luke doesn't seem to know that I'm the one who murdered him, and I've managed to keep this secret under wraps for the five years that Luke's been here with us. He got caught dealing out drugs to numerous sources, as well as having a hand dug deep into the underground black market, so naturally they booked his ass over to Alcatraz to serve his time – probably hoping to break him the same way they've tried to with us.

"They're giving me a headache, Lee…" Carver complains, his voice muffled by the wall as I nod my head. I can't really argue with him on that one – the constant in-fighting is getting ridiculous.

What's even more ridiculous is hearing what Kenny's about to say next.

"All I'm saying is that we don't have to be cooped up like a pack of fucking dogs for the rest of our lives! I ain't willing to rot here until I'm old and grey!" he says, anger laced into his words as he comes up to the iron gate again. "If we plan this shit out, we could be out of here in fucking no time! There wouldn't be anything stopping us from here and freedom!"

"Yeah, except for the damn ocean," Luke sarcastically replies, with everyone keeping quiet as our cells are unlocked for dinner. It'll mostly consist of a stale piece of bread, some water and whatever rotten meat they could get their hands on, but I tend to savour every last bite.

They could very well be your last around here.

"ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP!" we hear Larry bellow from the upper floor, looking more pissed off than usual. As bad as it might sound, I hope that the fucker just keels over one day and dies from a fucking heart attack or something… Bastard would deserve it after all the harsh punishments he's dealt out over the years. "ONE OF YOUR OWN WAS CAUGHT TRYING TO STEAL AND MURDER AN ON-DUTY OFFICER THE OTHER NIGHT! OMID AND CARLOS – THE VAGRANTS WERE CAUGHT AND DEALT WITH SEVERELY!"

A few seconds later, we all stare in shock and horror when two body bags are dumped over the railing; landing with a sick crack on the floor below. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who's inside of those things…

"For now, you'll get to see your _friends _with both of their smiling faces staring down at you! Maybe you'll think twice before doing anything stupid!" he roars, turning away as Luke hurls onto the floor.

It's not from the bodies, though…

…it's because Omid and Carlos' heads are being held up by ropes hanging from the ceiling; their eyes glazed over as they stare soullessly at anyone looking towards them. Larry literally had their heads removed to torture the rest of us for something we didn't do…

"Guess we know where they ended up," Carver comments, almost unfazed at this kind of thing by now. Unfortunately, I think that I'm pretty close to being the same way.

Looking over at Kenny, he gives me a look that says the four of us need to talk, but he shivers as he passes the bodies before going into the cafeteria.

I used to think that when the executions started happening, that I wouldn't be able to last a day in here. I thought for sure that there was no way a guy like me would come out of this thing alive, yet here I am – still standing (though with a lot less confidence than I used to have) and still breathing.

_Please be lucky, _I hear Clem's sweet, eight-year old voice tell me in my head.

Fuck this place – after ten years of pure hell, I've had more than enough.

But nobody escapes from Alcatraz.

_AN: Hey y'all, I just wanted to see if this is something you guys would be interested in. I wasn't entirely sure of it myself, but I was searching around and thought that this would be a pretty cool remake of how the prisoners may have escaped from this place back then. I've obviously had to change some things around, but hopefully I've set the tone for this kind of thing._

_Also, don't worry – this is just a fun, little side project that I'm doing. You're the Salvation will always come first, but I just had to get this out to see if you guys would be interested in this continuing. Please review and I'll try to get the next chapter done soon!_


	2. Solitary

"Bullshit."

Carver looks over the little design that Kenny's making on the table – consisting entirely of plastic straws, some napkins and the food that he felt too sick to eat. I had told him that I'd happily have his share if he didn't want it, but the stubborn oaf insisted that he'd prove to me that his plan would work.

So far, though, I'm not buying it any more than Bill and Luke are.

"It can't be done," Bill shakes his head, scrutinizing over every last detail as he picks up a straw and puts it in his mouth – the closest thing to him smoking that he's been able to do in ten years. "Trying to bust through the wall's gonna make way too much noise, not to mention leave a trail of bread crumbs for the guards to follow. Did you even think before making this shit up?"

"Been thinking ever since I got here," Kenny growls, tapping his finger at his little diagram. "Unless you wanted to go out the front door, which is guarded by heavily-armed patrol men, then this is the only option."

"It'll make an awful lot of noise though, don't you think?" Luke asks sceptically, still looking a little green after seeing Carlos and Omid like that.

Kenny shakes his head while rubbing his beard in thought.

"Not if we do it occasionally – this isn't just going to magically happen overnight, fellas. This'll take some time, but if we keep a steady pace, then we should be able to bust our asses out within… two months or so."

The three of us roll our heads back and groan, with me rubbing my face in exhaustion. This is pointless. It's not as if I can't wait a couple of more months to get out, that's not the issue here.

There _are _several other problems to sort out, though.

"One – how the hell are we supposed to get out? What do you expect us to do, dig into the walls until our fingers bleed?" I question, tapping the spot where the warden's office is. "Two – Larry's office is right above where we are in the prisons, and he's almost always got people guarding the doorway right above us. If they hear all of that racket, they'll know that something's up. Three – even if we do get out, what are we supposed to do next?"

"I was a fishing captain before coming here, genius! I can sail our asses out of here!" Kenny argues, causing me to roll my eyes. Sometimes I forget that Kenny hasn't been stuck here that long.

"Of all the dumb asses in the world, we just had to be stuck with you…" Carver mutters sarcastically, causing Kenny to slam his fist on the table in anger.

"You know, I'm trying to do y'all a service here, and you're just acting like I shit in your cereal!" he rages, causing me to put a firm hand on his shoulder to calm him down a bit. "There should be an air vent in each of your prison cells, right? If we can just get the screws off of those bad boys, crawl through there and then make our way outside, we'd be golden! There wouldn't be any stopping us!"

Hmm… he may have a bit of a point there. Those air vents don't directly lead outside, which I'm sure he knows, but we'd be relatively in the clear if we could make it out to one of the back exits. Still, though, that doesn't explain how we're going to travel on the water.

"Any boats that do come by are only there for a short amount of time," Luke explains, voicing my thoughts as we look to the little docking area Kenny's created out of mystery meat. "They drop folks off, and they pick folks up to take them to the mainland. They're heavily guarded, and they'll notice us straight away if we climb aboard."

"Then we'll make our own raft!"

"Out of what? Thin air or fucking stacks of paper?" Carver asks, slowly losing his cool as he chucks a hunk of meat at Kenny's face. He does _not look happy about it_. "You need to think this shit through! If you're serious about getting the hell out of this place, then we can't have any screw-ups! Any liability to this has to be eliminated in order to pull this off!"

"So you're in, then?" I comment, raising an eyebrow as he folds his arms across his chest.

Carver huffs out a sigh as he stares meticulously at the diagram in front of him. This definitely won't work unless we all do this shit together, and there are still some big details to get right, but this is the first time in a while that I've heard of any serious attempts to escape this place. Usually we just conform to what the warden would tell us and leave it at that; not wanting to get shot or electrocuted or any of that stuff.

Honestly, despite my constant denials of it beforehand, I was starting to lose hope of ever seeing the sunshine again – metaphorically speaking.

"…well, I certainly ain't getting any younger sticking around this place," Carver relents, folding his hands together. "Fuck it – I'm in. But we need to coordinate it better than this."

Chuckling, I pat Carver's back roughly as he looks at me like I'm a complete freak of nature. But this is too rich of an opportunity to pass up, and I've got to let him know it.

"William Carver actually agreeing for a change!" I shake my head in wonder, taking my last bite of mystery meat before setting the slop aside. "Never thought that I'd live to see the day!"

"Yeah? Well, enjoy it while it lasts, assholes! It's not going to happen very often!" he scoffs, causing all of us to chuckle in bemusement. It's good to hear people laughing again – being stuffed in this hellhole for so long sucked up a lot of my joy that I once had in life, and I was afraid of it running out.

Spirits may be high for now, however, but this is some serious shit that we're dealing with here. I need to make a point of it.

"Just so we're clear," I say lowly, eyeing one of the guards as he comes strolling past, "this is gonna be dangerous. Our lives depend on making this work, so everything has to be absolutely perfect. No faults, no exceptions, no excuses. Are we all in this?"

Luke looks over his shoulder at perhaps the most notorious crook in this place; practically worshipping the man as a Greek god when he gazes upon him. The guy hardly ever says a word, but he doesn't have to. As far as he's concerned, we're probably all beneath him on the crime scale, and he doesn't have time to worry about the peasants surrounding him.

And you know what? He's probably right about that, too. The guy's a god damn legend.

"I'll definitely miss seeing the great Nate every day," Luke remarks, shrugging his shoulders as he twirls a plastic fork around. "But I'd rather be back home than stuck in here for the rest of my life. I'd rather die than have to stare at a damn stone wall for the rest of my days."

"Amen, I hear that," Kenny nods in agreement, eyeing us as we all give him a look. "What?"

"The fuck did you do to get yourself in this mess anyways?" I ask, a small smirk plastered on my face when he glances down at the table. "Did you try taking an old man's wallet? Did he chase you for a bit at least?"

"Actually, wise guy, I… I wound up getting myself into trouble at sea," he explains, twiddling his thumbs as he prepares to tell his tale. "I worked at a fishing port over at Fort Lauderdale – Florida, if you don't know where that is. Anyways, our hauls were getting smaller by the day, so I'd set off by myself sometimes and… take other ships' goods off their hands."

"Ha! Kenny the Pirate strikes again!" Carver chuckles, his voice deep from years of heavy smoking. "All you need is an eye patch and you'd be set for life! You and your bountiful booty!"

"I'd rather not lose an eye just to look the part, thank you very much."

With all of the ruckus that we're causing, it's not long before Nate looks over at us and starts to head our way. There have been some pretty famous American gangsters that have come through here – Al Capone and Machine Gun Kelly to name a couple – and Nate's probably right up there with him. Together, he and his pal Russell went state to state stealing from well-known banking institutions, and they were never caught. Some say the duo made it to all fifty states and robbed at least one bank each, but I'm not so sure that I buy that. I mean, how in the flying hell would they be able to go to Hawaii and Alaska? Surely the cops would've been all over their asses near the borders.

You want to know the crazy thing, though? The only time that they ever got caught was when they _let themselves get caught_. Russell's never been seen or heard from since, but when asked about why he just strolled into the police station, Nate simply told them that there weren't any more challenges for him to conquer; as if this was all one big game they were playing.

Upon raiding his house, the police found nearly $40 million in cash – a huge amount for our time.

"What seems to be the hubbub, bubs?" Nate smirks, taking a seat beside Nate as he wraps his arm around Luke's shoulders. The kid almost squeaks in excitement. "Couldn't help but overhear your conversation over here. Mind if your old pal Nate gets in on the action?"

Looking at each other nervously, I clear my throat and decide to intervene before Luke here spills his guts to his criminal idol.

"Just relishing on the good ol' days," I fib, lying through my teeth while maintaining a neutral expression. "The fellas and I were just talking about what our, uh, lives used to be like before. There's gotta be more to life than this, am I right?"

Nate studies my face with a curious expression, probably not believing a single word that's coming out of my mouth. I've tried to make it sound as convincing as possible, since we really don't need word getting out that we're planning an escape attempt. If that news reached one of the guards' or the warden's ears, they'd probably paint the walls in our blood for sport.

After a while though, Nate simply looks up to the warden's office and shakes his head.

"Whatever it is you gentlemen are up to, I'd keep it hush-hush. You never know what could go wrong," he remarks, before turning his attention towards Carver. "If you need any materials… you know where I'll be."

With that, he smirks, stands up and walks back out into the hall; most likely to return to his cell. All of us stare intently at Bill, asking a silent question of what the hell he was talking about just now.

"I may have had a few dealings with him in the past. Shivs, a bit of marijuana now and then – the usual."

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph…" Luke shakes his head, unable to grasp the concept. "You knew about this the whole time… and you didn't bother to share with the rest of us?"

"Hmph, as if I'd be willing to give weed to you, Porter!" he snorts, picking up his tray as the rest of them prepare to leave the cafeteria. "I could only imagine bad things happening to you… Lee, Kenny, are you assholes coming or what?"

"In a little while, I'll catch up," I tell him, not looking at Carver as he shrugs his shoulders and leaves Kenny and I alone. I'm sure that we'll be kicked back to our cells in due time, but for now I just want to relax a little bit. Coming out here gives me some time to think.

The prospect of never having to wake up in that bunk ever again has got me more than a little excited. I mean, if you were locked up for however many years they felt like for committing a crime, wouldn't you want to get out? I made a mistake – one that I can't take back – but I know for a fact that I wouldn't try that again. Not in a billion years do I want to go back to prison.

But what's going to happen if I bust my ass out of Alcatraz? Even if you do live to see another day, what will I do when I get back to shore? The word's obviously gonna get out that prisoners have escaped, so I imagine that all of San Francisco will be on lockdown the second we arrive.

That's not what I'm worried about though, not really anyways. I'm more concerned about… home. What if the home that I knew doesn't even exist anymore? Would my family even recognize me if I came back? I know for certain that Carley hates my guts, so what if she planted those same ideas inside of Clem's head as well?

…no.

I refuse to believe that; I can't believe it. She's still my little girl, even though she'd probably be around eighteen by now, but I have to keep thinking that I can still be a part of her life. My relationship with my wife may be long over, but I need to be able to see Clementine again. She's the one thing that's holding my sanity in check; that hope that one day I'll be able to see her beautiful, smiling face looking back at me.

"Sometimes I still can't believe that they threw us in here," Kenny comments quietly, reminding me that he didn't leave the cafeteria yet either. Larry's disappeared down the stairs, so we won't have much time to talk. "So much for the _greatest generation _bullshit they threw our way… We go overseas, risking our lives for our fucking country, only to have it spit in our faces and give us the shaft. Democracy my ass…"

"That was years ago, Ken," I remind him, chuckling at how old we've gotten since then. "Those glory days are behind us. Besides, you're telling me that I should go up to the guards and tell them to let me go just because I served in the military?"

"Bloody hell… I'd do a hell of a lot more if it'd get me out of this place."

"I don't even want to know, man…"

"Snack time's over, children," Larry glowers, towering over us with a death stare as the two of us sigh heavily. What a jackass. "Get back to your god damn cell before I pluck out your eyes with a fork, Kenneth."

"Rather that than have to listen to you…" Kenny grumbles, walking away without another word.

Thinking that he meant both of us and that it was just a slip of the tongue, I too leave my tray behind and start to walk off – at least until he snatches my shoulder in his iron-like grip.

"Not you, Everett," he snarls, causing Kenny to turn around in surprise. "You're coming with me. Upstairs, my office, NOW."

Gesturing for Kenny not to worry about it, he gives me a look that says he's unconvinced, but I have little choice in the matter. Larry marches me forward with a police baton; poking me in the back whenever he thinks I'm going to slow.

I'd like to take that fucking baton and shove it up his –

"Sit down," he orders me, closing the door behind him as I sit in a shitty, old office chair. The guy's so egotistical that he's got several paintings of himself lined up against the wall – some of them where he's in a military uniform, others where he's dressed in business attire, and one where's he dressed in a kilt that's way too small for his fat ass. Probably too many donuts or something…

Leaning back in his seat, Larry just sits there for a while; glaring intensely at me while not saying a damn thing. The little antique clock that he's got on his desk ticks incessantly as I awkwardly look around the room, trying to see if there's something that I'm supposed to be looking at.

"Anything you need, sir?" I question, giving him a blank look as I try to make heads or tails of this situation. "No offense, but I'm not too sure why you've brought me here."

"Don't play dumb – I've seen you fucking shit stains plotting over there. You're up to something, and you're going to tell me what it is right now."

"Plotting? I'm not sure that I know what you mean, sir," I shrug, not blowing my cover as Larry's scowl deepens.

Slamming his fist on the table, Larry stands up and tries to intimidate me, but deep down this man's all talk (mostly). Believe me, if Larry wanted to he could probably break my face without breaking a sweat, but I know that he won't unless he's got a damn good reason to. I know for a fact that for every prisoner he's forced to kill (even though the fucking sadist loves dishing out pain), he loses some of the revenue for keeping this place running. Losing money means he gets in trouble. Trouble means getting fired, and you don't want that to happen – especially not at a ripe old age like his.

I'm not so sure his heart could take it.

"I've taken shits that have looked better than you fuckers, and I know that you're up to something! So don't try and bullshit me into believing there's nothing going on!"

Gross.

Defying him some more, I fold my arms across my chest and match his raging psychopath look with a cold, steely one of my own. I'm not giving anybody up, no matter what petty threats he may throw my way.

Realizing that I'm not going to crack under pressure with the way that he's going at it, Larry simmers down a little bit before grabbing me by the collar. Bracing for the impact that I'm sure I'll receive, I mentally sigh in relief as I realize he's just getting me out of the office.

"I'll break you, Everett – just watch me," he threatens, opening the door and shoving me forward to two of the guards. "Maybe a night in solitary confinement will change your tune. Vince, Bonnie, take this asshole to block D."

"Umm… are you sure that's a good idea, sir?" Bonnie stammers, making me remember that she's probably the kindest patrol officer out of the bunch around here. She'll still whoop your ass if you step out of line, though. "We just sent Eddie over there, and he didn't turn out too good…"

"Are you questioning a direct order?" Larry snarls, glaring intently at the redhead as she sadly shakes her head. "Good, then the discussion's over. Leave Mr. Everett in solitary for the rest of the night. We'll see how tight-lipped he gets after sitting in there."

Giving Larry a cheeky salute, Bonnie and Vince quickly usher me away before the big guy gets even more pissed off than usual. The man's about as bull-headed as they come, and he never shows any emotion other than complete rage or disgruntled annoyance. I don't think that Larry Caul has a happy bone in his body.

We have to take a stroll through our cell block in order to reach block D, so I look around at all the curious faces while I continue my walk of shame. Carver, Kenny and Luke look less than pleased as they realize what's going on.

"That's our boy!" Kenny roars, shaking the bars violently as his scruffy beard twitches with rage. "You pig-headed fucks! This ain't your own personal dictatorship you're running over here, you know! …okay, maybe it kind of is, but still! Lee didn't do nothin' wrong!"

"You'll be out in no time, Lee," Luke nods, giving me a sympathetic frown. "Don't let them assholes get to ya, you hear?"

Glancing over at Carver, he simply swipes across his neck; silently asking me if he wants the guards dead, but I just shake my head. I know for a fact that he'd be more than able to do it with all the connections he has in here, but there's no point. He'd either get himself killed or have us all shipped off to different cells; disrupting our plans and eliminating the opportunity to get the fuck out of this miserable place.

People throughout the block start chanting words of encouragement for me as well as a slew of insults towards Larry and the guards, but as much as I appreciate the support, in the end it won't do much. Bonnie holds the door open silently as Vince forces me into cell block D.

This place is… way too eerie and quiet for my tastes. There are about six rooms in total; all a little bit larger than the one that I usually stay in. The big difference is that the walls and ceiling are all painted white, and the stone surrounding me is so thick that you can't hear a damn word other than your own voice.

"Bring me back and I could make it worth your while," I propose, getting a knee in the back as Vince huffs and opens up the door to one of the solitary confinement chambers. "Come on, Bonnie! You know that you don't want to do this!"

"Just… keep movin', Everett," Bonnie ignores my plea, refusing to make eye contact as I'm forced into the room. At least the floor's a little bit cushiony, but everything about this place is nightmare-inducing.

"No…" I whisper quietly as the door closes and locks behind me, knowing fully well what this room can do to a person if they let it get to them. I huddle myself into the corner and try my best to ignore the emptiness around me.


	3. Scavenger

_Carver's POV_

"Up and at 'em, Bill. Let's go."

Groggily opening my eyes and stretching up, I chuckle as our little daily routine commences. It's always the same damn thing – Vince rattles my cage with his little nightstick (I think it makes the guy feel important). Next, he annoys me to no end until I gradually pull myself up and try my hardest not to strangle him after seeing his little smug face staring back at me.

It's no different this morning, as I see him looking over at me with a raised eyebrow.

"You know, Vincey-boy, if you want me so badly, all you have to do is ask," I mock, straddling the mattress as I slide off and itch at my face. Boy, do I need a shave. "I've been told by many that my charms work on practically anyone, and I certainly ain't afraid to have a go at you. So what do you say, man? Shall we do the dirty in my cell? Or would you rather go somewhere more open?"

"You're sick," he tells me, just causing me to chuckle even harder. It's fun to mess with the guy's head sometimes. "Mr. Caul wants to know what's been going on down here. Says that there've been talks of escape and such."

Blowing a raspberry, I roll my eyes as I step up to my cell door. The same fucking routine – day in, day out. It never changes. "If I had wanted to get out," I inform the guard, staring him straight in the eye, "then it would've happened a long, long time ago."

Vince won't try anything – what could he possibly do to me that hasn't already been done? They've already taken away my wife, my job, my house and my life… everything else outside of those things are just trivialities. One man can beat another over the head with a rock as much as they want, but all they're gonna be left with is a bloody mess.

Murder isn't profitable – you can't gain much from killing another person. Once they're dead, that's it. You can't extort a body, but with a living person it's a totally different ball game. Threaten the things that mean the most to a person, and they'll undoubtedly be willing to negotiate with you.

I know this because I've been on the giving end of this many times before. And trust me when I say that Vince wouldn't know how to play this game if he was even given the instructions. He might come off as a cocky prick at times, but he's not built the right way.

He'd never have made it in my line of work.

"You're out in the pen today," he tells me, unlocking my door as I nod in approval. "You get an hour – that's it. No bullshit, no fights, understand?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, my fine friend," I tease, feeling a content sigh erupt from deep within my chest cavity. "It'll be good to get out in the sun anyways."

….

Great. How fucking typical of this place. I shouldn't be surprised that it's absolutely pissing rain out here, not with the fact that not only are we out on an island, but also with the overall dreary rep this place has garnered over the years.

But really? The first time I've been able to get some fresh air in over a month, and _that's _when it decides to rain? Ugh… the irony isn't lost on me, you know!

Whatever… might as well make the most of what I'm dealing with out here. Most of the inmates out with me are pretty intimidated by me – not by size but by overall demeanor and attitude. I'm fully aware that I scare people, but frankly out here I consider that a blessing. Nice guys get swallowed up in prisons like this one, so Lee and I had to adapt pretty quickly once we arrived ten years ago. It wasn't too difficult for me, but Mr. Everett had a bit of trouble. I bet it was that kid – kept him soft and lenient.

I suppose it doesn't matter now though, does it? For the slim chance that he might be able to see his daughter again, he still won't be the same person that he was beforehand.

Grabbing hold of a chin-up bar, I decide to do a little workout to pass the time. No lounging in a chair for me. That's just not my style.

Pulling myself up to do about twelve reps or so, I have to let myself hang on the bar for a bit of time after my arms start to burn out. A combination of getting older and not having done this in a long time has made me… less strong than I ought to be, I'll admit. I'm by no means weak, and I'll knock the teeth in of anyone who thinks that way.

Still though, I need to improve.

"I don't like being lied to, Bill."

Sighing heavily, I do a few more reps of chin ups before dropping myself to the ground and turning around. Why Luke has such a fascination with this fucker I'll never know, but I choose to play it cool and talk to Nate in a friendly manner. Pick and choose your friends and enemies carefully – that should be rule one for prisons.

"What would I have to hide?" I shrug, placing my hands on my hips as Nate glances at me scornfully. "You know me, Nathan – I would never bullshit on a friend."

"No, but _holding out on a friend _is alright with you, apparently," he remarks, causing me to readjust my stance. "Your little escape plan? It's all that anyone's been talking about. I asked you point blank if there was something going on, and you lied right to my face! That's a strike against you, Bill – you wouldn't like what happens on the next one."

"Technically I didn't _lie _to you," I explain, reminded of our conversation in the cafeteria. "I just didn't say anything about it."

Roughly grabbing me by the scruff of my shirt, Nate slams me against the chin-up bar; attracting the attention of a few of the other prisoners. Don't they all have better things to do?

"Don't play games with me, Carver," he snarls, trying to act all tough as I nearly let a chuckle escape my raspy throat. "I don't like being fucked with. I know you're planning on getting out, and I want in on that action. SO you're gonna cut me a slice of the pie, if you know what's good for you."

Grabbing onto his wrists, I roughly shove him off of me and glare at the man menacingly. This bastard's all talk – he's got no drive, no backbone. To be honest with you, I'm almost certain that all of those tales of him robbing banks were just bullshit rumours that he spread around the prison to try and make himself more respected.

However, as much as I despise the guy… he's got just the connections that could potentially save our operation.

He wants to talk business? Well, I guess that I'll just have to play along then, won't I?

Time to put my silver tongue to the test.

"Nate, my boy," I remark, patting his back as I wrap my arm around his shoulders. "Walk with me."

"Fine… no groping, understand? I ain't into that shit," he tells me, shrugging off my arm as I roll my eyes. I know very well what he's into, and it typically involves being a sexual predator.

Otherwise known as a complete and utter scumbag. It's guys like him that are gonna ruin this country, I'm telling you.

Bringing him over to where nobody else can hear us, we sit on a bench while watching all the activity going on around us. "I'll cut to the chase," I say lowly, making sure that Vince isn't paying attention. "We're gonna need some materials for this shit to fly – firstly, what can you get me for a raft?"

"I need a promise first, Carver," Nate shakes his head, not budging like the stubborn fool that he is. "If I get you the shit you need, I'll get a spot on the boat. I can get the stuff, but there'll be a max capacity. I don't give a flying fuck who goes on with me, just as long as I'm heading to the sandy beaches with all the chicks I can find."

You see what I mean? Scumbag.

"Alright, you're in."

"Swear it, asshole."

"Fucking Christ, Nate! Did you want me to pinky swear as well?" I sigh, rubbing my eyes tiredly. I seriously don't have the patience for this. "Ok, I promise you. Cross my heart and all that shit. You can take Kenny or the kid's spot on the raft; I really couldn't care less about those two clowns. Now can you get me the materials or not?"

After going over some details about the raft – mostly going to be made out of inflatable rubber, wooden boards and rope – as well as how he's going to acquire these items (he's got a supplier within the custodial staff of the prison), I try to piece this all together. There's no way that we'd be able to build this thing in our cells, as that'd be a little conspicuous, don't you think? No… our only option is to build it once we get out, which is gonna be tough as hell with the lighthouse that constantly shines around the place.

We'll just have to be quick and quiet about it.

"That still leaves us with a big fucking problem, though," Nate points out, stretching his back out with a sickening crack. "The guards patrol the halls at night – they'll see that we're not in bed. What do we do?"

Smirking as the details run through my mind, I stand up and watch as Vince opens the door to let another poor soul into the pen. I turn back to Nate before wandering back on over to the chin-up bar.

"Leave that to me, Nathaniel," I mock, grabbing the rusting metal in my hands. "Leave that shit to me."

….

"_FIVE MINUTES!" _Vince bellows at us as yet another person is let in behind him. But this isn't just any ordinary guy – no, this is Lee Everett; back from a night of solitary confinement.

And by the look on his face, I'd say that it's done a number on him.

"Shit…" I mumble under my breath, sighing as I walk on over to him. There's a bit of a shouting match going on to the left of me, so it'll at least keep some of these morons away from us. "Jesus, Lee… What'd they do to you?"

His body looks as though it wants to contort in on itself, with how scrunched together he looks. His hands are shaking, his eyes are wide and terror-stricken, and he looks as though he's gonna have a mini panic attack at any given moment.

"…so much quiet… no sound…" he murmurs; disoriented as he studies the pavement. "…told Lee to be a good boy… was very good, yes he was…"

Sighing, I force him to tilt his chin up so that I can get a better look at the man. This'll only be temporary for sure, as he doesn't often get sent to solitary like Eddie once did. But the stories of that place must've been true – even the most strong-willed can buckle after being trapped in there for too long. It weakens the mind and dulls the senses to the point that some have actually hurt themselves trying to break out. Broken fingers usually, from trying to punch and claw their way through the walls.

It's bad enough being locked in a cell, but at least you've got some people to actually talk to.

"Pull yourself together, Everett! Back straight, shoulders back, chest out, head up!" I order, fixing him upright like a soldier. "Don't show them weakness, remember? You've got an image to maintain!"

Not expecting nor receiving a verbal response other than incoherent nonsense, I growl deep in my throat as I look up to the section where Larry's office is supposed to be. I'd shoot him the bird if he had a window there, but fortunately for us we won't need to deal with him for much longer. The sooner we can get this shit together, the sooner we can get out of this hell.

Suddenly getting an idea, I glance over at Vince as well as the crowd before turning back to Lee.

"Stay here," I command, shaking my head when he doesn't even bat an eyelid to see what I'm up to. They must've really gotten him good… the fuckers…

Casually walking over to the crowd, I notice that Chuck and Andy St. John are at it again. No fists have been thrown just yet… but that's about to change very quickly. When I'm finished here, it'll be a damn stampede out here.

"Give it a rest, old man! You ain't shit!" Andy snaps, getting visibly annoyed as Charles glances at him as if he's a complete moron.

"Ha! You'd like that, wouldn't ya? Then you could chop me up into little pieces and put me in a stew, you inbred, cannibalistic fuck!"

"Those were false accusations! I was framed!"

"Sure you were," Chuck rolls his eyes. I have to hand it to him - Charles has got balls of steel. "Just like how your brother didn't try to make love to your barn animals. What, is that not true either?"

Grabbing Arvo (our only Russian occupant in Alcatraz) roughly by the arm, I push through and shove the kid right into Andy St. John; sparking a brawl that ignites nearly everyone's rage and spirits.

"Excuse me, fellas. I'll just be going," I chirp, ducking to just barely dodge a swing from a crazed attacker. Shaking my head, I calmly squirm out of the crowd and calmly walk past Vince; giving him a cocky nod as he snarls and tries to break up the madness. With that taken care of, I practically drag Lee with me back into the prison and set him on a stool near his cell.

"You sit this one out, buddy," I pat him on the shoulder, heading straight for the washroom as I open the door. The place smells like shit, naturally, and I physically gag as the fumes assault me at the start. After about ten seconds or so, however, I manage to recover and start looking for all the shit that I'll require.

It's gotta be done fast though – who knows how long those knuckleheads will be able to slap themselves around out there?

Grabbing all of the paper towel, toilet paper and soap bars that I can carry, I lean against the wall of the bathroom and wonder how the hell I'm gonna get this out of here without looking like a complete tool.

"…Fuck it," I say aloud, deciding to stuff most of the paper towel in my prison pants, while I stuff my shirt and sleeves with the toilet paper. I manage to fit some of the dry soap bars in securely into my clothes; nestled in between rows of toilet paper as I hide the rest either up my sleeves or in my hands.

This is completely ridiculous – I look like the fucking scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz. But a few laughs at my expense won't matter in the grand scheme of things, as a couple more trips of this will almost ensure the success of our goal. I'm almost completely certain this'll work.

My plans are practically Larry-proof.

Heading back over to my cell, I widen my eyes as Bonnie walks over to me; neither of us knowing what to say about this. She lets out a small snort as she looks at me, and I thank my lucky stars that she's one of the few guards who'll look the other way on most things.

Anyone's better than Vince.

"New fashion statement, Bill?" she questions, causing me to shrug my shoulders as I smirk gently at her.

"I like to experiment and try new things, sweet thing. You should give it a whirl, it's really comfortable," I suggest, causing her to shake her head in wonder.

"I don't even want to know…"

_No, you really don't, _I think to myself as she disappears, giving me plenty of time to sneak back to my cell and hide my stash. Lee moseys on back to his cell at a snail's pace, but I don't pay him much mind at this point.

No worries, Lee. Once I get this shit going, neither of us will have to worry about these assholes ever again.

The shitty pair of scissors that I've been keeping beneath my pillow will have to wait for a little while, since it'd look mighty suspicious of me getting a haircut when shaving day isn't for another three weeks or so.

But the rest of the stuff I can do now. Dumping a bunch of the supplies onto my bed, I scratch my head and ponder. Hmm… what does my head look like?

Hopefully my artistic talent won't go to waste on this thing.


	4. Making history

_Two weeks later, Luke's POV_

"Psst… Porter, wake up."

"…mmf… huh? What?" I ask out to the darkness, squinting my eyes as a dull flashlight wakes me from my dreams. I'm a little bit pissed off – that was a good dream, too! I was riding a candy cane unicorn going over a fudge-flavoured rainbow on the way to the…

You know what? Maybe it's a good thing they woke me up after all.

Straddling the bed, I shield my eyes from the harsh rays of light as I see Bonnie of all people standing at my cell. Why would she be here?

"Bonnie?" I question, rubbing the gunk out of my eyes as I sit upright. "What are you doing? I figured you'd be out shining Larry's shoes or somethin'."

"Ha ha, you're _so _hilarious," the redhead sarcastically replies, rolling her eyes as I smirk. Don't tell Jane this or nothin'… but I also secretly have a crush on Bonnie here, too. It's nothin' too big, but it's there. "But… Larry did send me to tell you something real important."

Chuckling quietly, I scratch my head as I try to figure out what the big mystery is. "Oh, so _I'm _gonna be shining his shoes. _Great_. As if his ego wasn't big enough as it is already."

"Luke…"

Turning my gaze towards her, I can tell that she's being completely serious – it kind of startles me seeing this from her. Usually she'll be joking around and having a good time with us when none of the other guards are around, which is probably why a bunch of the guys have taken to calling her _Saint Bonnie_. It's kind of a running joke, since Bonnie can actually be quite forceful when she wants to be, but she doesn't seem to mind the little nickname we've given her. If anything, I think she's actually flattered by it.

"Well," I remark, giving her my full attention, "what's going on, Bonnie?"

Making sure that nobody around is awake to hear this Bonnie moves closer towards my cell before telling me the big news.

"You're getting a job – Larry's orders."

Widening my eyes, I look at her in complete confusion and shock. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Don't play dumb, Luke," she scolds, giving me a small smile. "You. Are. Working. That means slightly better meals, more time to occupy yourself, and less time spent in… this. If you do a good job, they might even shorten your sentence."

"…this was your doing, wasn't it, Bonnie?" I ask quietly, knowing the answer is yes when she bashfully lowers her gaze to the floor. I don't have the heart to tell her that a shortened sentence won't matter much, considering what we're gonna be doing in… I'd say less than a week now. "Well… thank you. This is huge, you've got no idea…"

Shaking the notion off, Bonnie lowers the flashlight as she prepares to take her leave. "Don't mention it," she tells me, before giving me a warning look. "Just… don't blow this, alright? It took a mighty bit of convincing for the marshal to allow this. I… I don't wanna see you getting hurt."

"You don't need to worry about me," I respond as she returns to her patrol of the cell block. A job! A real, hard-working occupation! Wow… I didn't think I'd ever actually be _happy _to have to work again, especially considering that I won't actually be getting paid for this shit.

I wonder what he'll actually have me doing out there… hopefully nothing too dangerous or embarrassing.

"_Hmph…" _I hear from next door as I lay my head down to rest once again. Gulping, I feel some butterflies at my stomach; worrying that Kenny may have just overheard that entire conversation.

Good god I hope this goes well.

….

"_Hey, Lukey-boy! Off to another day of kissin' ass, are we?!"_

"_Maybe you should sweep up what's left of your balls over there! I think you lost 'em when taking this job!"_

"_Mr. Shoe-shiner coming to the rescue! Cleanup in aisle four, Mr. Porter!"_

"Fuck all y'all then," I hiss under my breath, sick to death of hearing all of these insults all the time. It's been three days since Bonnie came to me that night with the job offer, and as much as I love not having to eat quite as shitty meals as I had to before, the constant ridicule is really starting to get to me.

I literally have to keep reminding myself that most of the ones mocking me are the same jealous assholes who wish that they'd be in my position. I should've known that Kenny would tell someone about this… son of a bitch. Doesn't he realize how quickly rumours spread around here?

Except this fucking rumour is actually _true!_

Picking up my broom and nearly-busted dustpan, I sigh as I sweep up the floors in front of a bunch of my cell mates. I try to avoid the likes of Andy, Arvo, Roman and that lot, since they're nothin' but trouble in my books. Instead, I tend to keep close to Lee, Kenny and Carver as much as I can, although Bill and Kenny both look like they're ready to tear my head off.

"Got somethin' you wanna say, fellas?" I mock with a cocky smirk, watching as Lee urges me not to push their buttons. "Naw man, it's cool – if they wanna look like a couple o' brats then that's just fine by me! Let 'em talk!"

"Why don't you come on over here, Luke? Then I can smack that pretty boy smile off your face," Kenny suggests, causing Lee to chuckle as he fails to retain his serious expression. We're all friends here, in the end.

And friends take care of each other – they don't go behind each other's backs and leave each other to rot.

Which is why…

"So, are we, umm… you know," I whisper, trying to act as casual as possible. Carver looks over to Nate's cell to give him a thumbs up, which pretty much means that he has everything ready to go. "Bill, those dummies you've got going… you're sure they'll work? You're positive?"

"As long as you don't drop the ball, Porter, then yeah," he gruffly replies, pulling out his "_head" _from underneath his bed to prove his point. "Scissors go around tonight – we'll be our own barbers, stick them on top with the soap and paper towels, stick 'em in the bed and hope for the best. If this doesn't work, Kenny, then I'm blaming you."

"I'll see y'all in hell then," he retorts with a huff, causing me to roll my eyes. Even at their ripe ages, they still act like a bunch of kids sometimes.

I suppose growing up is different for everybody.

"Oh, almost forgot," I mention, checking behind me to make sure that nobody else is watching. "Here – this should make it easier for us."

"Where the hell did you get a screwdriver?" Lee asks, nodding as he grasps the tool and heads to his ventilation shaft to see if it'll work. After about a month of scraping away at the concrete surrounding it, all four of us (five, if you can even count Nate as a _person_) should have no problem tonight with squeezing our way through to the boiler room on the other side of the wall.

Shrugging as if it's no big deal, I put on a stupid grin as I scratch my neck. "Snagged it out of Lard-ass's office," I explain, having no qualms about stealing from that dickhead. "He's got a few of 'em in there, and by the time he notices it'll be too late anyways."

"_EVERYONE OUT!"_

Shit… I totally forgot about that. Every month or so, Larry lets us have about an hour or so of so-called _free time_, and every single time it results in a bunch of us gathering around and listening as Mike sings and Chuck plays a shitty, old guitar for our amusement.

As Bonnie comes to unlock the cells on our side, I sigh in relief that Vince is unlocking the other side of the cell block – he'd be a lot less inclined to hear us out.

"Alright, you bunch of buffoons," she says, unlocking Kenny's cell before moving onto Lee's. "Get out here before I start cracking the whip!"

"Aww, come on now, Bonnie-bear," Lee smirks, causing Bonnie to chuckle slightly. "You know you love us! You wouldn't do a thing like that!"

"Hmm, I don't know, guys," I chirp, looking as innocent as possible before the guard decides to beat my head into my body. "She's a feisty one! She might tear your head off and eat it for breakfast if you ain't careful!"

Shaking her head in amusement, Bonnie finally unlocks Carver's door before turning back to me. "You boys are unbelievable; nothing but trouble!" she teases, smacking my arm as she orders us all out of the cells. "Get a move-on, slow pokes! I ain't babysitting y'all again, I'm telling you that now."

Glancing over at Bill, he shakes his head before motioning towards the ventilation shaft. Sighing, I realize that he's got a point – we've still got some work to do and fine details to plan for later tonight, so the entertainment for us is gonna have to be put on hold for now.

Curious, Bonnie turns around and looks at Kenny, Lee and Carver; staring at them intently for a few seconds before finally putting the pieces together. Spinning back towards me, she looks at me pointedly as I try to beg for her silence.

"Please, Bonnie…" I plead, holding the broom loosely in my hand as I lean against the railing. Chuck has already gotten the guitar out. "We can't do this shit anymore – you know how much we hate it here. All we need from you is to just not care where we are for about an hour or so tonight…. Please?"

Mulling it over and biting her lip, Bonnie closes her eyes before rubbing the bridge of her nose in discomfort. We all know why she'd be hesitant about this – if someone ever found out that she was purposely ignoring the escapees, then she'd be in deep shit within a second. Losing her job, potentially getting disciplined severely… that's a big potential consequence of this.

"If you tell anyone about this, that I'm looking the other way," she warns, staring at me with burning intensity, "Larry will be the least of your problems. Got that?"

"Bless your soul, Bonnie," Bill says in thanks, returning to the back of his cell as he casually chips away at the concrete again. Broken pieces of rusted metal can actually have some uses after all.

As the rest of the cell block gathers in a circle or simply watch from the upper deck as Mike and Chuck get set, I return to my own cell; still filled with disbelief. This is it. After five years of rotting away (ten for Bill and Lee), we're finally gonna do it. Our plan has to work, it just has to.

We're gonna be the first to escape Alcatraz.

"_Hello Muddah, hello Fadduh," _Mike begins as I pluck away at the stone. _"Here I am at… Camp Grenada!"_

Knowing that this will be my very last day in this secret place of hell brings me a sort of… joy; of release.

"_Camp is very… entertaining… And they say we'll have some fun if it stops raining!"_

Satisfied that the hole in the wall will be big enough to crawl through, I smirk as if I'm truly living the good life; taking my fake head and slowly tossing it from hand to hand like a basketball. Things are finally gonna be different – I'll be able to start over with Jane, She said she'd wait for me… hopefully that offer still stands.

I'll have to visit Nick's grave first, though. I'm more than overdue for a visit.

"_I went hiking… with Joe Spivy! He developed… poison ivy!"_

"_You remember… LARRY CAUL… He got ptomaine poisoning last night after dinner!"_

"Heh… if only," I comment, hearing a whole bunch of laughter as Mike continues to amuse the crowd. Chuck's guitar playing isn't quite as rusty as I thought it would be.

Walking over to my cell, Lee hands me the screwdriver as I start to undo the bolts that fasten my escape route.

Won't be long now…

"_All the counselors, hate the waiters! And the lake has… alligators!"_

"_And the head coach, wants no sissies, so he reads to us from something called Ulysses." _

_The fuck does that mean, _I think to myself, though not really paying attention as I see Lee leaning against the railing and looking downwards. If anyone deserves to spread his wings and fly, it's definitely gotta be Lee Everett. I can't imagine being away from his wife and kid for so long… I wonder if that's what he thinks about every day?

"_Now I don't want, this should scare ya! But my bunkmate… has malaria! You remember, Lee and Carver… they're about to organize a searching party!"_

Dropping the screwdriver for a second, I turn around with widened eyes as I slowly walk out towards the balcony. Kenny and Carver do the same, and all four of us stop to see as the entire cell block – every single prisoner – stops what they're doing, stands up and salutes us one by one. Vince has got no idea what's going on, and Bonnie's intently trying not to look over at us… but I for one feel a little warm and fuzzy inside.

Did we really have such a big impact? I guess that everyone in here knows what we're gonna try to do… except for the guards themselves. Sure, there have been attempts to get out before, but usually people knew beforehand whether it was gonna work or not.

Nodding to the crowd, the four of us disperse once again as Mike and Chuck continue playing. I feel honoured by all of this, and as much as I hate the Rock with all my soul, I've gotta say that I'm gonna miss some of the people I've met here.

"_Take me home! Oh Muddah, Fadduh, take me home, I hate Grenada! Don't leave me out in the forest where I might get eaten by a bear!"_

"Gentlemen," Carver murmurs with folded arms, "tonight… we're making history. We'll be legends."

"Fucking A," Kenny agrees with determination.

"_Wait a minute… it stopped hailing," _Mike finishes up, getting a round of chuckles from the crowd as the song starts to die down. _"Guys are swimming, guys are sailing! Playing baseball, gee that's better!"_

"_MUDDAH, FADDUH KINDLY DISREGARD THIS LETTER!"_

…..

_Nobody's POV_

Larry sits in his office chair, fuming over paperwork that's telling him the worst kind of news for his job prospects. Decreased funding?! What the fuck is this horseshit?! Larry's worked his ass off running Alcatraz, keeping everything in tip-top shape and running a smooth, fair system that everyone enjoyed, and _this _is how they repay him?!

At this rate, he might need to close the place down within a year and move all of his prisoners to the mainland!

…mulling it over, Larry sighs heavily and rubs his eyes together. Perhaps this won't be so bad. He's getting on in years, and being away from Lilly so much hasn't really been favourable to their family dynamic. Larry hardly sees his daughter anymore, and this has really only proven to drive an even bigger wedge into their already rocky relationship.

Maybe he can have the retirement he's always wanted – moving back home, flying planes when he feels like it, and beat up any hooligans that rub him the wrong way.

Not wanting to dwell on this for right now, Larry kicks the cupboard in frustration before standing up to leave. Perhaps a route around the cell blocks will be enough to clear his head. Larry really doesn't trust his guards to do the right thing half the time, considering that most of them are complete and utter morons in his mind, and it couldn't hurt to try his hand at it again.

Besides, what better excuse for beating up prisoners than if they're not sleeping when they're supposed to?

Heading out the door and over to the first cell block he comes across, Larry stops Bonnie as she's making her nightly rounds; looking even paler and timid than she usually does.

"What's the word?" Larry questions. "Anything suspicious or out of the ordinary?"

"Nope!" she immediately squeaks, widening her eyes as she says so. Shaking her head, she chuckles nervously before rubbing her arm in discomfort. "Nothing that I've seen, at least. Nope, it's been a nice, quiet night for a change – everyone's sleeping and absolutely nothing is going on!"

Quickly brushing past the marshal without another word, Larry shakes his head in confusion and glares at her back. That was… a little _too _weird, even by her standards. Larry never understood why she would be so _soft _and _kind _to the prisoners that she'd be dealing with. Really, what would be the point? They're criminals, for god's sake! If it were truly up to him, and government regulations would allow it, Larry would probably have them all be forced to jump off a ten story building without a parachute of any kind.

Now _that _would be a deterrent to commit these heinous crimes!

Pulling out a flashlight from his pocket, Larry fumbles around with it until the device finally cooperates. These things are relatively new and work like shit, but anything beats stumbling around like a fool in the dark the entire time.

Noticing that Vince is just standing there with his mouth hanging wide open, Larry suspiciously wanders on towards him.

"Vince, what the fuck are you doing?!" Larry snaps him to attention, causing Vince to turn towards the man slowly in shock. When the guard simply points inside of the cell, Larry's panic instantly increases tenfold.

…No…

Immediately opening the cell in fury, Larry storms inside and rips the covers off of the bed; stumbling backwards as what appears to be some kind of head falls to the floor. It's got a whole bunch of hair attached to it, and Larry's vision goes completely red as he picks the object up.

Hair, soap and fucking paper towels… Son of a bitch!

"CHECK THE OTHER CELLS, NOW!" Larry bellows, spinning around as Vince quickly does what he's told. Empty, empty, and… empty. Four empty cells, four missing prisoners.

And Larry knows exactly who these fuckers are, too.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the cell block, Nate is absolutely freaking out. Try as he might, he hasn't been able to pull the ventilation shaft open at all. He wasn't given anything to use other than his hands, so he's been yanking away at the vent all night; practically ruining his fingers in the process.

The man's got a crazy look in his eye; that sweet taste of freedom just to much to resist. It's addictive, and Nate would love nothing more than to get out and start having fun again.

So you can imagine, when Nate finally does manage to rip the vent off of its mantle in the wall, how completely devastated, desperate and insane he gets when he discovers the shocking truth – there's a whole whack of pipes blocking his escape behind the shaft.

Carver fucking lied to him.

"Heh… hehehe… Ha! Haha! HAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" he chuckles in complete madness, causing a handful of guards to sprint over to his cell and barge in. Seeing the man with bloody, mangled fingers and laughing like an uncontrollable lunatic, the guards take him by his armpits and drag him away.

If there's one thing that can solve _any _mental health problem, it's gotta be their tradition of sticking two steel rods into people's brains. That just makes all of their problems go away…

Back on over with Larry, he too has completely lost his mind – but not in the bat-shit crazy way. No, he's completely gone bonkers in rage for one reason, and one reason only.

They're gone – they fooled everyone with this plan, and to add salt to the wound, Larry punches the wall furiously as he sees the little message that Lee left him; marked on the wall using some extra soap bars:

_FUCK YOU LARRY! _

"EVEREEEETTTTTTTT!" he roars into the escape hole; his voice echoing as the four prisoners quickly make their way to the raft outside.


	5. Lost at sea

"_WHERE'S THE FUCKING RAFT?!"_

"_OVER THERE! WE'VE GOTTA HURRY!"_

Huge waves batter the shoreline as the four escapees climb over and down massive piles of rock; traversing the dangerous path as the raft (if you could even call it that) lies in wait a little ways down. The dark, foreboding clouds crackle with lightning strikes as the rain pelts at their faces and the wind chills their nearly-bald heads. Those scissors worked wonders for the four of them, that's for sure.

Darkness enshrouds them for the time being, but that luxury isn't going to last very long for these four. Nobody will openly admit it, but Lee, Luke, Kenny and Carver all heard Larry yelling after them, and they were actually _outside _the prison at that point. If that's any indication, then they need to hurry their asses up – the guards are most likely out for their blood.

Needing to yell because of the storm drowning out their voices, Kenny manages to jump over to their makeshift boat first; with it consisting of old lifejackets, wooden boards, and a few pieces of a used tire. It's all crudely tied together by a thick piece of rope.

"We need to inflate the fucking life jackets?! SHIT!" Kenny swears, instantly getting set to work as he starts blowing air into the little valve thing. "Move your asses! We don't have time for dilly-dallying! And Bill, you fucking idiot! You said that this was all ready to go!"

Climbing down the rocks with Luke and Lee jumping down behind him, Carver huffs out a sigh of annoyance. "Quit your worrying, Kenneth. You should be grateful that we have this shit _at all_. If I hadn't made a deal with Nate, then we'd be dead no matter what."

"You're a real asshole, you know that?" Luke remarks, glaring at the man. "I mean, telling Nate that you were gonna take him with us, and then stabbing him in the back like that? Man, that is low…"

"Society's full enough with crooks as it is, Lukey-boy," Carver responds as they all quickly start blowing air into the lifejackets. "No sense in adding another fuck like Nate into the mix."

Deciding that it'd probably be best not to think about, Luke sighs before wiping the rain droplets off of his forehead. The guy can't wait until they reach dry land once again.

Kenny, very much used to being out on the ocean, doesn't like the looks of things out on the water. "This raft is a piece of shit – if we aren't careful, then we'll end up tearing it apart and drown out in San Francisco Bay," he mentions with a look of dismay upon his brow. "Also… there's something else that I need to tell ya – "

"Hold that thought," Lee interrupts, putting a hand up as he furrows his brow in concentration. "…You hear that?"

There's nothing at first, with just the rustling of the wind and waves keeping them company. Before his three friends can call him a complete nut job, however, they slowly start to hear a loud, wailing sound.

And when the floodlights suddenly turn on as well, the four of them start to panic.

"SHIT! DOUBLE-TIME!" Carver orders as they hurriedly finish up blowing the raft to a suitable level. They all know that noise too well – it's the horn that sounds whenever a prisoner is escaping, and the entire island is on alert for them. They hardly ever have to use the blaring escape horn, but when it comes around, you know they mean business.

Extremely worried that they could potentially get caught, Luke tries his best to stick to the rocky surface of the shore until Kenny can safely place their festering, piece of shit raft into the Pacific. The last thing he wants now is to get caught, not after all of this. They've been planning for this moment for months, and he wants to return home so badly that it's practically killing him.

Kenny, not liking what's about to happen next, silently moves the raft until it's just floating there in the water… but he stops and looks back to his three fellow prisoners with concern.

"What?" Lee asks, sensing that something may be amiss as Kenny lowers his gaze downwards.

"This is really hard for me to say…" Kenny starts off, wishing that things could've been different. "…but the boat ain't big enough to fit all of us. That means one of us… has to get left behind."

When nobody says a damn word, instead just gazing at Kenny in complete, stunned silence, Kenny firmly puts a hand on the raft as he prepares to climb aboard.

"There ain't no way that I'm staying here," he growls, needing to reaffirm this before all three of the others decide to make a mad dash to the raft. "Y'all won't be able to make it to San Francisco without me."

Looking between the three of themselves, Lee, Carver and Luke decide on the only fair, plausible way that they can think of to settle this shit once and for all:

Rock, paper, scissors.

You heard right. A bunch of grown-ass men fighting for a spot on the raft over a childish game, only this time the stakes are so much higher. The loser can pretty much kiss their sorry ass goodbye, seeing's how they'll end up either getting swept away from the current or shot and killed on sight.

"God damn it… God fucking damn it…" Lee shakes his head in sadness, deep down really pissed off that Kenny called dibs on the first spot. Who made him King of the Boats?! "Fine… _sigh, _alright, let's get this done. Are you ready?"

When the both of them nod, Lee closes his eyes for a moment before sticking both fists out in front of him. This is it – judgement day. Whether or not Lee Everett lives to see his little girl again rests entirely on… rock, paper scissors.

Taking a deep breath, Lee exhales as he comes to a decision.

"…fuck this," he says, forgetting about the stupid game as he rushes towards the raft. Carver seemed to have the same idea, since he actually manages to get to the little boat before Lee does.

And that just leaves…

"Haha, very funny, y'all. Now come back so we can do this properly," Luke chuckles, motioning with his hand as he stands ankle-deep in the water. When none of them move an inch from their seats and slowly start to break away, that's when Luke realizes it – he's getting dumped to the side literally and figuratively. "H-hey now! You… you can't do this! No! Fuck that! I won't put up with this shit! FUCK NO!"

"Calm down, kid," Bill attempts, but that only fuels Luke's rage as his fists and teeth clench together tightly. When Luke starts to wade out towards them, that's when Carver starts to get some… _ideas _about what to do with him. "Luke, don't do something that you'll regret. Don't try to come out here."

Hurriedly doing a breast stroke out towards them, Luke spits water out of his mouth as he angrily clutches at the side of the raft. One of the floodlights just barely misses them as it shines on the same spot they were just at a little while ago.

"Porter, I'm warning you! Get. Off. Right now," Kenny snaps, worried as the combined weight starts to tip the raft to one side. It doesn't help that the more they drift out to sea, the rougher the water becomes. "You can go run off to Angel Island and live there! Maybe you can find some shit to make your own raft and get back to the mainland!"

"FUCK YOU, KENNY! YOU AIN'T LEAVIN' WITHOUT ME!" Luke snarls; his eyes getting slightly red from the salt and making him seem a bit less human. With how pissed off he's become, the man now looks more like a demon than anything else.

Things are getting more intense as Luke tries to hang on for dear life, cringing as Carver starts to kick his fingers painfully. But the more pain he endures, the more anger he feels, so Luke (in an attempt to save his own skin) climbs aboard and tries to throw Carver off instead.

"GET… THE FUCK… OFF!" Carver bellows, groaning as he gets a punch right in the face from Luke. "YOU DON'T BELONG HERE!"

"GO TO HELL, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Luke shouts, slamming his head to the side as Bill gets a face-full of water. "I KNEW YOU FUCKERS WEREN'T TRUSTWORTHY! I'M COMING WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT! I'M A PART OF THIS PLAN, TOO!"

Realizing that they're all going to sink if this continues, Lee and Kenny punch and claw at Luke's face as he's knocked onto his back violently. Carver, having just risen from the water after Luke shoved his head in, sees his opening and grabs Luke roughly by the collar.

Luke manages to get a good, hard smack to Carver's already heavily-bruised face, but it's not enough as he starts to get pummeled again and again by the older man. Punching the guy until his nose starts to bleed, Carver then tries to flip Luke onto his stomach in a last-ditch effort to finish this off. Luke thrashes his arms around in a blind flurry that's making it more and more difficult to hold him down, so Kenny and Lee step in to help in the brawl.

"FUCK YOU LEE! FUCK YOU KENNY! AND FUCK YOU BILL!" Luke unleashes a verbal assault on the trio, having lost any kind of friendship he may have had with the men. Beyond those prison walls, these people are absolutely nothing to the man. "FUCK YOU ALL! I'LL SAVE YOU A SPOT IN HELL!"

As a team, the three of them shove Luke's head into the water; pushing only harder when he tries to come up for air. Luke, in an act of panic and realizing that his life is literally on the line, tries to swim away from his attackers.

In desperate times, desperate people will do desperate things; even like trying to swim out in the middle of the ocean. They're way off course, but that's not important right now.

As the waves get rougher and tougher, the three grown men keep a firm hold onto the twenty-seven year old; knowing fully well that Luke will try to keep this up for as long as he can.

"Grr… I ain't… gonna let you…" Kenny grunts, pressing the man's face down as a number of air bubbles start to form on the surface. Won't be long now…

Lee feels incredibly guilty by all of this, as does Kenny… but what other fucking choice does the man have? He can't and _won't _allow himself to die until he can see Clementine again… even if that means killing for a second time.

When Luke slowly starts to lose energy, air and consciousness, his flails become less and less frequent; realizing that this will indeed be the end of him. He's only got two regrets in his life… and yet they nearly break him as the water quickly starts to enter his lungs.

One is that he never got to tell Jane how much he truly cared about her. When he got enough money after returning to North Carolina, Luke was gonna buy a ring and ask her to marry him. He'd be dirt poor afterwards, but he was so sure that he'd be able to figure it all out.

The other regret… was that he never got to find out who killed his best friend, Nick. That asshole would prowl the streets without punishment, and he'd never be able to bring them to justice.

He owed his friend more than that.

If he ever found out how ironic this statement was, then he'd probably have tried to take Lee Everett down with him to a watery grave. Instead, he floats alone in the water; unmoving and devoid of any life.

Luke Porter is dead.

"FUCK! FUCKING… FUCK! FUUUUUUCCCKKKK!" Lee shouts out to the heavens, burying his face in his hands as Carver catches his breath and Kenny shamefully tries to steer them in the right direction.

…..

"Everett… do you even _possess _a pair of balls, man? Get over it!" Carver snaps, really just lashing out as a means of coping with what just happened. He'll never openly admit it, but it's true. "Luke was going to fuck up this entire plan if we let him have his way – is that what you'd want, huh? It was him or all of us – we would either leave him behind or all fucking drown! No sense in having the rest of us die off, too!"

Choosing not to look at him for fear of doing something he might regret, Lee continues to stare mindlessly out on the water; partly hoping that a shark would swim by and just swallow him whole – that'd probably be a suitable punishment for his crimes.

But of course, there are no sharks in San Francisco Bay, and Lee's still alive.

"How can you even live with yourself?" Lee whispers; the salty ocean breeze tickling his beard as Kenny closes his eyes. "We killed that boy… We never gave him a chance from the start…"

"He was a _man_, and that _man _was gonna – "

"I know what you fucking think, Bill. And he was practically a baby compared to us," Lee shakes his head, running his hands over his face. "…I killed Luke's best friend. He was the one I killed – he's the reason I even got locked up in the first place."

This revelation startles Kenny out of his silence, as he turns to Lee with a shocked expression.

"Whoa," he breathes out, "really? The same guy?"

"The very same…" Lee regretfully nods, feeling the guilt eat him up from the inside. "And now I've murdered the other friend, too. It… it should be me face down out in the middle of fucking nowhere. Luke should be here right now… not me…"

Not knowing how to respond to that, Carver and Kenny somehow manage to keep their mouths shut and focus on staying afloat. The storm's calmed down quite a bit, as now it's only drizzling over their heads, but the three of them barely pay it any mind.

They should be celebrating, shouldn't they? After all, it's not every day that somebody manages to break out of one of the most impenetrable prisons in the US. And not even one, but three?! That's unprecedented – it's never been done before, and likely won't ever happen again after the guards' slip-up.

But this is a hollow victory, no matter how much you try and sugar-coat it. Deep down, the three of them know that Luke had just as much right to live as any of them, if not more so. The guy wasn't even thirty years old yet, and may have had his whole life ahead of him assuming that he didn't get caught back in his hometown. But no… he was robbed of any slight chances of success that he may have had – all because the three old assholes wanted to go home too.

Lee's never felt more selfish in his entire life.

"…we're gonna need names," Kenny points out, causing Bill and Lee to look over at him. "They're gonna be looking for a Kenny, Carver and Lee once we get back – hell, those names are gonna be on every police report and FBI target list for the rest of our lives. We need a new alibi."

Sighing deeply, Carver nods as Lee just kind of stares off into space. They'll be reaching the shore soon, and this is just one of many details that they're going to have to figure out. "For once, Kenneth, you might actually be right about something," Carver jokes, but all Kenny gives him is an unimpressed scoff. "I've got a buddy who works at the Bureau who might be able to help us with that. He could get those names in without anyone suspecting a thing. Hmm… I'm thinking… Frank."

"Frank? Why that?" Kenny asks, kind of confused as to why he'd want it so specific. When Carver shrugs his shoulders and just tells him that it fits with his personality, Kenny rolls his eyes and thinks of one himself. "Uhh… John. John Anglin – I don't know anyone named that, so maybe it'll be less suspicious. What about you, Lee?"

Saying nothing, Lee just shakes his head and closes his eyes; clearly still upset about what just went down.

"Well, you better fucking hurry it up," Kenny advises as the raft gets stuck on the sand bar. "We're here. Gents… we did it."

"Let's make sure it stays that way," Carver adds, hopping off the raft as his two companions do the same.

Despite landing at a beach of some kind, there are next to no patrons due to the weather. The place is practically empty except for a few stragglers that are either walking their dog or going out for a run, but for some reason there's a lifeguard posted out on such a shitty day like today.

And, of course, there also happens to be a police officer out on duty, and when he saw the three of them come in on a raft, the man immediately hopped the wall and started walking towards them.

"Shit…" Kenny whispers, realizing that they still have their prison shirts on. They're ripped and worn down, though, so it's very difficult for anyone to recognize where it is they're from. Well, that's what the three of them are hoping for, anyways. "Just play it cool, alright? Act naturally…"

"Hmph… that makes it so much better coming from _you_."

"Stuff it, Carver…"

Casually strolling towards them, the officer wipes the rain out of his eyes before getting right in front of the three convicts. He's a rather bigger man, with short hair, dark skin and glasses.

Clearing his throat, Kenny prepares to address the man and hopes this doesn't have to turn ugly.

"Evening, officer!" Kenny politely introduces, which is something that he often neglects to do. "What, uh… what can we do for ya?"

Looking behind the trio, the man narrows his eyes slightly before addressing the group. "The name's Officer Alvin," he says first off, showing that he's clearly not as brutal a person as the guards could be at Alcatraz. "Mind telling me why you folks were floating on a raft on a night like this?"

Clearing his throat, Lee instantly tries to think of an excuse that'll satisfy the big guy. "We were, uh… practicing for a boating competition back home, so you see," Lee straight up lies to the man's face, though sounding pretty convincing nonetheless. "It's a charity thing – you build your own raft and race it against other people."

"Going out on the water isn't a crime, is it?" Carver questions, wanting to cut in before they blow their cover.

"Well… no," Alvin admits as he rubs the back of his head. "…But it's still mighty dangerous to be out on the water during a storm. Those currents can be deadly at times."

"Oh, don't we know it!" Kenny chuckles, nodding his head in agreement. "But we were just about to head on back inside… So if that's all you needed, then we'll just be going."

"Hold your horses there, cowboy," Alvin smirks, patting Kenny on the shoulder. "I know this is a bit redundant and all, but I'm gonna have to jot down some names. Don't worry, it's just for police procedure – no charges or nothin'. It's just technical stuff, you know what I mean?"

Nervously looking between the three of them that remain, the men gulp before nodding in agreement; hoping to god that they don't get prosecuted for providing false information.

Carver starts off first.

"Frank… Morris."

Then Kenny.

"John Anglin."

And finally, Lee comes up with a name for himself, but mentally kicks himself as he makes a tiny mistake.

"Uhh… Clarence _Anglin_."

Kenny wants strangle the ex-history professor so much right now, but he bites his tongue as Alvin looks doubtfully between the two of them. "Step brothers, I take it?" he questions, not trying to be racist or anything but noting that the two of them look nothing alike.

Chuckling in slight embarrassment, Lee nods before quickly wrapping an arm around Kenny's… err, _John's _shoulders. "Yep! Our parents separated when we were small," Lee tells the officer, wanting this conversation to be over with as soon as possible. "We've been pretty close since then – can't you tell?"

There's a hint of doubt swimming through Alvin's eyes; almost as if he's trying to judge the validity of this claim. For a second, the three of them think that he's going to ask them to come on down to the station, but luckily for them, Alvin simply nods and gives them a small smile.

"Alright, that's enough for now," he says, causing their insides to loosen a little bit. "Just be careful, alright? No more messing around out here – you're lucky as all hell that Troy wasn't on duty today. He can be a real nasty devil when he wants to be."

The man is about to turn and take his leave, but something clicks in his mind as Carver grits his teeth together in slight anger. Why won't this guy just leave them alone?!

"Oh, I forgot to mention," he tells the men, giving them a precautionary glance, "there's been some word going out, and I'm not supposed to tell anyone this… but you guys seem alright. You know that prison out in the distance? Alcatraz? Apparently a whole group of criminals broke out of there – at least, that's the rumour. We haven't gotten any real details yet."

"No way!" Lee exclaims, acting completely surprised as Kenny struggles to retain his laughter. "Get out – are you serious? Nobody could escape from that place!"

Shrugging his shoulders, Alvin adjusts his cap before placing his hands on his hips. "That's the rumour – we'd all best watch ourselves tonight," he advises before tipping his hat in goodbye. Once the guy is fully out of sight… the three of them just stand there; completely flabbergasted.

Lee, for his part, falls straight onto his back and lays in the sand; rubbing his arms back and forth like a snow angel as he thanks his lucky stars.

"Ten years," he exclaims, chuckling in disbelief at what they've accomplished today. "Ten. Motherfucking. Years."

As Carver sits on his knees and marvels at the prospect of finally being relatively free from his shackles, and Kenny runs up to the lifeguard and hugs her with delight, Lee sits there in the sand without a care in the world. The trials of what they're going to do next can wait, and for now at least, the thought of Luke and Nick are slowly getting pushed to the back of his mind.

They've the impossible – they've broken out of Alcatraz.

Now their new lives will truly begin.

_AN: If you're wondering, no, this isn't the last chapter – I've still got a few more ideas left in mind. But thanks for reading this, guys, despite my historical inaccuracies with dates and such :P _

_Anyway, I'm thinking next chapter's gonna be the finale, so I'll try and have it up soon!_


	6. A new identity

With nothing but the clothes on their backs, Carver, Lee and Kenny spend the rest of the day just trying to get as far away from the coast as they possibly can. That police officer was either blissfully ignorant to whom they actually were, or he had to be one of the worst detectives that they had ever come across in their entire lives. The only thing different about them in terms of look is their shortened hair – hell, even the shirts they were wearing were from the prison!

Not wanting to make a goof-up like that again, the three of them decide to turn their shirts inside out; hoping that somebody won't stop them on the side of the street and question why they're looking so funny.

Having no vehicle to get them back home is turning out to be a real pain in the ass, but Kenny seems to have a plan that should put their tired legs at ease.

"Ever heard of hitchhiking?" he questions, causing Carver to smack his forehead and Lee to look at him as if he's gone completely crazy. "What? You dumbasses have a better idea, then? It's not like we can take the bus or nothin'!"

"Or _anything_," Lee corrects, looking smug as he wears a smirk like a cocky prick. "Your grammar disgusts me! Didn't you ever get an education?"

Shoving him jokingly on the shoulder, Kenny sticks his thumb out as they wait on the side of the road. "Not everyone worked at a fucking university, _professor_," he states, grimacing as four different cars pass by them without a care in the world. "No worries, they'll come like moths to a flame."

Nearly an hour and a half passes by the time those words leave Kenny's mouth, but still he persists as Carver and Lee watch on with annoyance. Sitting on the side of the road isn't exactly a great idea; especially when you're on the run from the law.

Rolling his head back, Lee suppresses the urge to groan in frustration.

"You know," Carver points out, "we could've been to the next town by now. Give it a fucking rest, Ken – they're not gonna stop for us."

"Just trust me, alright?! I know what I'm doing!" Kenny insists, although even he's having a tough time staying positive after all this time. The three of them made the assumption that things would pretty much be smooth sailing from here on out; that they could erase their identities from the record books, start fresh and return to regular society.

But adjusting to normal civilian life has already proven difficult for Lee. He had to look over his shoulder three times at a couple just walking out eating ice cream on a nice afternoon; baffled that people would actually be able to do something like that with nobody judging them for it. Mr. Everett's used to getting yelled at for taking a second helping of leftover mush from the prison cafeteria.

Suddenly, the unthinkable happens – somebody actually stops their vehicle, pulls over to the side and rolls down their window for them. "Hop in!" shouts a friendly Asian-looking man with a short beard and a hoodie overtop of his head. "Where are you folks headed?"

"What'd I tell ya?" Kenny questions to his buddies before stepping up beside the man. "Hey there, friend, the name's Kenny! We're looking to head out east - Florida for me, Georgia for my friend Lee over here, and uhh… Bill, where was it you needed to go again?"

Pausing to mull it over, Carver shrugs his shoulders and says, "I guess I'm going wherever the wind might take me. Don't really have a set destination."

"_Riiiiigghht…_," Kenny sarcastically says before turning back to the kind man in the RV. "Anyways, we're kind of stranded out here for right now. We'd really appreciate a lift if you could. Any chance you could help us out, uhh…"

"Matthew," he introduces with a smile as he gestures to another man in the driver's seat beside him. "And this is my partner, Walter. We were actually just heading in that direction ourselves – going on back to North Carolina. You guys are welcome to tag along if you'd like!"

Patting the guy on the arm kindly, Kenny slides open the back door as Lee and Carver pile in beside him; squished together in between a drink cooler, beach equipment and a whole bunch of souvenirs.

Lee chooses not to say anything when he accidentally squishes and snaps an antique, model boat as he sits down. Umm… surprise?

"You guys aren't here to rob us or anything, are you?" Walter asks as he looks at them through the rear-view mirror. "You're not dangerous or anything, right? No guns or anything? Because this is a rental and I'd rather not have blood all over the seats…"

"Walt!" Matthew chuckles, looking embarrassed.

Smirking back to the man, Walter shrugs his shoulders as he turns the vehicle back on. "What? Can't ever be too careful with a group of hitchhikers, you know."

"Nope, nothing like that," Kenny chuckles nervously, with Carver and Lee not looking at the pair of men in the front seats. "Just… visiting some friends around the area."

Sinking lower in the seat as the cops whizz by their RV, Lee, in paranoia, tries to make sure that nobody from the outside can see him, as Carver looks over at him like he's an idiot.

This is gonna be one long car ride.

….

_Two days later…_

"You're positive that you can make it on your own from here?" Walter questions, not wanting them to just get lost out in the middle of nowhere again. They made it to Georgia – a sort of halfway point between Florida and North Carolina – in order to suit both parties. "It's not a problem at all if you still need a ride, you know. You're more than welcome to travel with us."

Shaking his head, Kenny goes over to tell him how thankful the three of them are as Lee looks out over the city. Atlanta – this is his last stop for now. Growing up in nearby Macon, Lee would often come to the city with his buddies for shits and gigs, usually if a band was playing or they wanted to get up to no good around the streets.

Years later, this place became his home. He married his long-time girlfriend Carley at a banquet hall down on the outskirts of the city, bought a house around the same area, and introduced a beautiful baby girl into the world here. This is where Lee truly belongs; not cooped up in the worst prison he's ever been in – not that he's ever been in any other prison besides Alcatraz.

The man's gut feeling tells him that his baby girl is here somewhere; out living her life with no idea that he's out and finally free.

"If there's anything at all we can do to pay y'all back…" Kenny says, but Walter's having none of it.

"Consider it a favour for a few good friends," Walter insists, making Kenny nod in appreciation. These two are alright. "Just help someone else down the line."

As the three of them watch as the dust trail dissipates and the RV becomes nothing more than a dot on the horizon, Carver, Kenny and Lee stand there in silence; not really knowing what to say to each other. They all know what has to happen next, but none of them really want to move after all they've been through.

"So… looks like this is it," Kenny remarks, putting his hands in his pockets as he scratches at his now-bald head. "We're finally free, and… now we need to move on."

"Don't be so fucking sappy about it," Bill chuckles as Kenny glares at him. "Lighten up, gents! We're finally out! We fucking did it! Never in a million years would I have thought that would happen."

Nodding in agreement, Lee glances out over the city again for quite a while with a sigh. He needs to know, and if it kills him trying to find that girl again, then so be it. He'd gladly get shot in the head if only for one more second of knowing that Clementine is alright.

"Go get her, man," Kenny interrupts his thoughts; the both of them knowing exactly what he plans on doing.

"Find your girl and bring her home, Lee. You need to quit wallowing in pity all the time," Carver smacks him on the shoulder before twirling on his heel and heading on down the path. "So long, you bastards! I'd say it was nice knowing you and all, but I'd probably be lying!"

"Where the hell are you going?" Lee calls out after him as Carver shrugs his shoulders.

"No clue, Everett! That's the beauty of travelling!" he hollers back, scaring a few crows as they take off through the sky. "You never know where you're gonna end up!"

Deciding that he had better hit the old, dusty trail as well, Kenny breathes out through his nose before nodding to Lee. "You take care of yourself, man. I mean that."

"I hope you find your family, Ken. I really do," he responds, engaging in a firm and final handshake as Kenny too takes off down the path; opposite of Carver as he looks onwards.

The three of them would never admit it, lest they get called a wussy or something for being so sentimental about it… but they're gonna miss having each other around. Not as prison inmates or co-conspirators, not as strangers or even business partners…

But as friends.

"So long, gents…" Lee whispers in sadness; going his own way as he hops the guard rail and heads down into the city.

…..

Walking towards the house, Lee frowns as he sets foot upon the driveway and spots the sign on the lawn – _FORECLOSURE_. The place is abandoned, and it really shows from the outside. The grass is super long and thick, the once pristine garage door has been dented and vandalized, and several of the windows have been smashed in several places.

Realizing that Carley must've packed up and moved out after the incident, Lee casually walks towards the front door; wiping away a small layer of dust as he peers through the window. Doesn't look like anyone's inside…

Lee, remembering how they always kept a key perched up in the little birdhouse that he and Clem made when she was small, pulls the wooden thing off of a branch and shakes his head in amusement – it's still there. Even though he knows that it's technically trespassing for him to barge in like this, Lee unlocks the door and steps inside regardless. He used to live here at one point, and it's not as if anyone's looking to buy the place when it's in this state.

"Jesus…" Lee whispers as he looks at the ugly wallpaper that still hangs on the walls. Why they ever picked olive green as a backdrop for this place he will never know, but right now he's growing kind of fond of it. Green walls are a lot better than grey, he'll be the first to tell you.

Grimacing, Lee notices the indents of what used to be a whole bunch of pictures set up on the wall. Over here used to be the one of Clem's first birthday party, and this one was his and Carley's wedding day. The one overlooking the kitchen used to be a picture of all three of them plus the extended family, and in the living room there was one that had Clem and her grandparents (Lee's parents) all sitting together playing checkers or something.

But if there's one photograph that Lee absolutely knows wouldn't have gotten touched, it'd be upstairs; hidden away in a small crack in the wall. He knows this because he was the one who put it there, wanting to look at it for when he returned from his prison sentence.

And here he is.

Jumping a bit as a mouse scurries past his foot, Lee creaks open the door to his old bedroom and shakes his head. Carley used to share this place with him… but then all of that had to change.

For the first few years after Clementine was born, Lee Everett was the happiest man on the planet. He loved his family dearly, and he'd often take Clementine out to do something with just the two of them – whether it was playing catch, going to the park, going to a movie or whatever. He smirks as he remembers how pumped up Clem would get whenever she got to choose the movie, even though she'd almost always pick the scary one – Lee just figured that she wanted to seem brave or something like that.

They'd always, without fail, end up leaving the theater about halfway through the movie because neither of them could take it. Lee never minded this, though – Clem was his whole life.

Lee thought at one time that Carley was the absolute love of his life, and that no matter what life might've thrown their way, they were meant to be together for eternity. He loved her, and she loved him… or so he thought.

Sure, there may have been love in the equation at first… but it started to change. Arguments started to become much more frequent – usually about how to pay off the house, keep Clementine in school or how the two of them never took the time to spend with each other. Their conflicting work schedules often kept them apart, and there started to become a bit of resentment when one parent would come home while the other would be out for most of the night stuck at their job.

They tried to make it work, they really did! Carley and Lee desperately tried to see eye-to-eye and find some common ground; something to keep Clementine from barging in on them with tears prickling at her eyes, questioning why Mommy and Daddy were fighting for the billionth time. And for a little while, Lee thought it was working. The two of them managed to cool their jets around each other, generally stayed out of each other's way when they were in a mood, and everything seemed pretty normal.

And then Clementine's eighth birthday came along.

Despite Lee being all happy and such during the day, warming with pride as Clementine wrapped her arms around his stomach and thanked him for setting up a small party with her friends, he couldn't help but be a little ticked off. Where was Carley? She was supposed to be there for their little girl's big day, but she never showed up. No explanation, no nothing.

Concerned, Lee had rushed over to the Travelier Motel to where he thought Carley was going to cover a news story; having asked Sandra to watch over Clem for a little bit as he promised that he'd be home soon with Mommy in tow.

What a big fucking lie he told her that day, and what an even bigger lie his wife had told Lee that day. There was no news story of any kind – nobody had gotten shot in the motel room, and there was no story to be told… yet. When he asked the manager if she had seen any reporters around, she shrugged her shoulders and said that the only people who came around that day had been a woman and a young man with a dark red baseball cap.

Nick Randall never stood a chance. His face practically got implanted onto the lamp after Lee had bashed him with it so many times; fuming with rage that some snot-nosed punk had the audacity to sleep with his wife in some shit-hole of a motel room.

Carley called the cops as Lee gave her the finger and told her to never come near his family ever again.

Funny how just the exact opposite happened that day.

Swatting these painful memories aside, Lee finds the hole in the wall and digs around inside; praying that a raccoon isn't living in there and tries to bite his fingers off. When he feels the small piece of paper still intact inside, Lee smirks in victory as he pulls it out.

The picture of him, Carley and a newborn Clementine is still there, and he lets out a shaky sigh as he tries to keep it all together. This is what he's been missing for the last ten years – his little girl is probably all grown up and ready to take on the world, while Lee's been wasting his time locked up in a cell for the last ten years.

Furious with himself, Lee frowns and rips himself and Carley out of the picture, leaving only baby Clementine as he places her picture in his pocket.

Clementine is the only thing left in this world that he gives a damn about anymore. The love that he and Carley had shared may be gone now, but he'll always care deeply for Clementine.

He never stopped loving that kid, even when he was locked up for so long.

….

With a newly-shaven beard (in order to avoid suspicion), and having just spent the last few hours scouring a good chunk of the city, Lee sighs as he sits on a bench in the middle of the UGA campus. He knows fully well that he wouldn't be welcome inside the buildings, but honestly he doesn't think anyone left here would really remember him anyways.

"Fuck…" he mumbles, leaning his head back as he stares at the sky; peering up at the clouds in discouragement. He really should've seen this coming, now that he thinks about it. Atlanta's not small, and the odds of finding her on foot with no real indication of where she could possibly be are really dampening Lee's spirits.

Watching as various kids (mostly in their young twenties) walk around between classes and chatting about… whatever it is the kids talk about these days. Lee's not used to the lingo anymore.

He's so preoccupied in his thoughts that he doesn't even acknowledge that somebody else has plopped themselves beside him.

"Is this seat taken?"

"Knock yourself out," Lee says, bending forward and resting his chin underneath his fist as he closes his eyes.

After a few more seconds of silence, the mystery person tries to spark up a conversation with the man. "Umm… is everything alright?"

"…no – definitely not," he admits with a shake of his head. "But it's not something I need to trouble you with. Sorry… I've just been looking for someone."

"Oh…" she says knowingly, finding it kind of humorous that he still hasn't turned around yet. "Are they lost or something?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Lee leans back on the bench and turns to look at who exactly it is that he's talking to. It's a girl, obviously, but something about her seems kind of… familiar.

Deciding that it's probably just his imagination, Lee smirks slightly before readdressing her. "I'm not really sure," he admits, finding it strangely easy to talk to this person. "I haven't been around in a long time, and I don't really have any way of contacting them, you know? It's a bit of a pain."

"Well," she frowns slightly, keeping up her charade as he remains oblivious, "that really sucks. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Hell, it's my problem – I shouldn't burden a stranger with stuff like this," he reprimands himself, finding himself slightly drawn to this girl for some reason. There's something striking about her, and he's getting a nagging feeling that he should know this mysterious person. "So, umm… I'm Lee. Nice to meet you, Miss…?"

Putting her hands in her lap and crossing her legs, the girl smiles a tiny fraction as she looks at the ground.

"…Clementine," she answers, causing Lee to nearly fall off the bench in shock. "Hi, Dad."

…

Unable to believe his eyes, Lee scoots backwards for a moment to truly take all of this in. "Y-you… you're…?" he stutters, finding himself chuckling as he shakes his head in utter disbelief. "Clem? Clementine?!"

"The one and only," she nods, folding her hands together as she waves at a friend passing by.

This… definitely isn't how Lee pictured things would go. He's over the moon and practically hyperventilating with bubbling happiness at having finally found her again… but he hasn't been a part of her life for a decade now. He missed ten years of her life growing up, and for what? Just so that he could kill some asshole with a lamp?

One time of uncontrolled rage removed him from his little girl. That regret stings like fucking hell.

Trying to compose himself, Lee wipes his eyes with his sleeve before finding himself staring at her face. She's grown into a beautiful, young woman since his time away from her, and he honestly didn't recognize the kid that she once was. This one's more sophisticated; more mature, but she's still got that mischievous glint in her eyes that used to make Lee's heart melt.

"Wow…" he finds himself saying, chuckling once again as he finds her smiling towards him. "I'm… I'm sorry, Clem, it's just… wow. I didn't think I'd ever find you again, let alone _here _of all places!"

"Yeah… I go to school here now," she shrugs, causing Lee to widen his eyes. "Yep, I'm a freshman here. I'm uh… actually taking history right now. I wanted to go into teaching like you."

Beaming, Lee sighs in content as he closes his eyes and lets this all sink in. She wanted… Jesus, Lee can't even finish the thought without swelling in pride.

But there's another part of him that really, REALLY doesn't want her to follow in his footsteps. That can only lead to ruin.

"I can't tell you how proud I am of you… but you shouldn't look to me as a role model," he says regretfully. "In fact, I'm probably the _last _person you should be following. I did a bad thing, and…"

"…you're not supposed to be here, are you?" Clementine asks, knowing fully well what his answer is as he stays silent. Why she even attempted to talk to him knowing all of that completely blows Lee's mind, but Clem doesn't seem to mind too much. If anything, she's ecstatic that he's finally out of that island prison. "Well… you're here now, and that's all that matters. No matter what you did… you're still my Dad. Nothing changes that."

Feeling as though he's going to burst if he doesn't at least _show the thing _to his daughter, Lee pulls out the folded-up letter and flattens it on the bench; careful not to rip it or anything. "I tried to write back," he explains, guilt plaguing at his mind as he scans the words for the billionth time. "The guards were pretty much a bunch of jack asses, so I wouldn't be surprised if you – "

He's interrupted as Clementine unzips her bag and pulls out a folder, filled with thick stacks of paper as she carefully removes the elastic band surrounding it. Inside the folder are dozens of letters – some of them addressed from Lee, but a ton written by Clementine. Lee notices that the writing becomes a little bit clearer with almost every entry she's written.

"I wasn't allowed to send them back," she explains, a slightly bitter tone in her voice as she frowns. "I'd write these out once a month even though I knew that you'd never see them… It kind of felt wrong to stop doing it, you know? It was almost like… if I stopped writing them, then you'd really be gone for good…"

"Clementine…" Lee whispers shamefully, wishing that things could've been different. "I'm so sorry… I know that doesn't make up for it at all, but… God, I'm so sorry…"

Shrugging it off, Clementine wipes at her eyes for a moment as her smile falters a little bit. "No big deal," she croaks out, putting the letters back in the folder and putting it back in her bag. "Umm… do you wanna come back with me for a little while? I could fill you in on… well, everything, I guess."

"…yeah," Lee agrees, standing up as Clementine leads him back to her car.

He just hopes that he doesn't break down when he realizes just how much he's missed over the years.

…..

Lee stays silent as Clementine talks about the stuff that's happened, including getting a boyfriend for the first time (which unfortunately Lee couldn't be there for to set some ground rules on dating his daughter), driving her first car, graduating from high school, and everything else she can think of. All of that Lee wasn't there for, and although he won't show it, this information hits him like a ton of bricks.

And what has Lee been doing for the last ten years? Rotting away in prison, twiddling his thumbs while his life flashed right before his eyes. He'd give up anything in order to get those long years back with his little girl.

"Well, here we are," she announces, slightly confusing Lee when he sees how small the place is. Before he asks, however, Clementine beats him to the punch. "It's just me and my roommate living here. Her name's Sarah – she's pretty cool when she wants to be. I think you'd like her, Dad."

"Sounds like you've got things pretty well sorted out," Lee acknowledges, still trying to get over the overwhelming shock that he's actually even _talking _to Clem again. "So, uhh…"

"Are you okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine… it's just, uhh… I'm good," he nods, earning an awkward pause from Clementine.

"That's good."

"Uhh, yeah… being good is… good," he says, fumbling around with his words as Clementine puts the car in park and turns off the engine. As she's about to step outside, however, Lee tells her to wait. "Clem… your mother, is she…?"

Breathing out through her nose heavily, Clementine shudders before telling him to just come on inside. Worried that he may have stepped on some thin ice, Lee quickly nods before hopping out and following her into the small townhouse (if you could even call it that).

"Sarah? You home?" she calls out, getting no response as she kicks off her shoes and heads to the kitchen area. Setting her bag on the counter, the girl grabs a couple cups from the cupboard and fills them with water; handing one to Lee as he takes it gratefully. "We're kind of on a budget," she jokes, earning a chuckle out of the older man as he looks around.

"Quite the place you've got going," he comments, choosing to ignore the slight mess of clothes and such that's left on the floor in the hallway – just like her old man.

"I'm glad I've got your approval," she chuckles before her face turns sombre once again. "Okay… how do I put this? Well… Mom and I moved out of the old house about seven or eight years ago, and it was just us living in some shit-box deeper in the city."

Hanging onto every word, Lee sits in a chair and nods his head as she continues.

"After a little while, she started… kind of, umm… seeing someone," she says meekly in case Lee doesn't take the news very well, but it really doesn't bother him too much. The guy had expected something like this to happen, after all. "His name's Doug, and he's… well, he's nice and all, but he's a massive dork. He kept on talking about… computers, whatever those things are, and saying how the military had their hands on this secret technology that they weren't handing out to the public."

"Sounds… charming."

"It felt weird being around the two of them," Clementine says, seeing right through that phoney line as she shakes her head. "Mom didn't understand why I always felt awkward around him all the time, and… we fought. I didn't like how we were just supposed to _forget _about you; as if somehow our lives would just go back to normal. I didn't _want _to forget about you, but she wouldn't let me send any more of the letters, and then I – "

"Easy, easy," Lee soothes; most of his anger about Carley's little side activities having fizzled out a long time ago. "It's alright, Clementine – you don't have to go on."

Stubbornly shaking her head, Clementine downs her water in one go before placing it in the sink. The way that she can knock back a drink like that makes him a little bit… _concerned_ as to what she might be doing on the weekends, but it's not really his place to tell her what to do anymore. That right disappeared a while ago.

"After graduation, Mom and I… well, I may have yelled some things that I shouldn't have," she admits, folding her arms across her chest. "We both got really angry, and she gave me a choice – either deal with the shitty situation we had, or get out. So… here I am."

Looking down steadily, Lee can't believe that she'd have to endure all of that by herself. If it had been any time before the graduation, then Clementine most likely wouldn't have anywhere else to go. According to her, she kind of lost contact with her grandparents after he was sent off to Alcatraz, and it's not as if Brian (his brother) would be able to support the kid – he could barely pay the bills by himself, let alone have a kid thrown into the mix.

The rest of the time that he spends there, however, has a much lighter tone as they talk more about the happier times in their lives. Well, Clem mostly talks, but Lee shares a few more friendly times among his cell mates – like the times that Bill would try to piss off the inmates on the opposite side of the wall from us, or when Luke tried to juggle all of the plates at once and dropped every single one, and even the times when he and Kenny would spend out in the cafeteria; playing a game of cards that the fisherman had snagged from Larry's office the one time.

The one thing that he keeps to himself, however, is how and who managed to escape off the island. He doesn't have the heart to tell her that despite this reunion, her Dad is still a very much wanted felon across the USA.

As the conversation dies down a little bit, and Lee finishes another glass of water, the two of them just sit there quietly; both realizing what has to happen now.

"…I don't think you can be here," Clementine points out with a frown, to which Lee hesitantly nods in affirmation.

"I know," he tells her, taking one hand in his as he adjusts her hat on her head. It's her signature look, and he wouldn't want that to get tarnished. "They're gonna be looking for me, honey. I won't put you through any of that."

Biting her lip, Clementine reaches in one of the cupboards to pull out a set of old car keys that Lee hasn't seen in years. "Mom let me keep your truck around," she tells him, handing the keys off as they both head to the small garage. "Figured you should have it back after all this."

Opening up the front door, Lee takes a second to relish in this moment. From this point on, he is no longer Lee Everett… and he can't be around for Clementine anymore.

The hardest words to say are goodbyes, aren't they?

Taking one last look at the man that she had been so fond of earlier in her life, Clementine jumps him as she wraps her arms around his neck tightly; hugging him like no tomorrow as she buries her face in his shoulder. Sarah pops into the front and sees what's going on, but she simply turns away and heads into the kitchen. They look as though they need some space.

"I love you so much, sweet pea," Lee murmurs, wanting nothing more than to stay here in Atlanta to be close to his daughter. "I'm gonna miss you so… so much…"

"Me too…" she replies, kissing him on the cheek before letting him sit back in the front seat of the pickup truck. As the guy slowly backs up and waves goodbye for the very last time, Clementine walks out onto the driveway; Sarah close beside her to see if she's alright.

"I'll be… fine…" she chokes out, satisfied that she at least got to see her real Dad one last time. "Goodbye… Dad…"

Lee, not taking his eyes off the rear-view mirror in case she suddenly disappears from his view, clutches the steering wheel fiercely as his knuckles turn white. When he finally has to turn the corner, Lee gets a chance to breathe as he fully takes in what this all means.

He won't be able to see his baby girl ever again, and this time… this time it's final. No letters, no contact – they're completely separated once and for all.

As soon as Lee notices the stacked folder of letters that Clementine purposely left for him to read over, Lee slams on the brakes and bursts into tears.

His old life is officially over, and Lee Everett no longer exists.

…

"_Michigan State," _Clarence Anglin reads aloud, nodding as he turns down an old county road and searches for… something. Just anything to get him back on his feet and out in the world again.

Perhaps this could be the stroke of luck he's been looking for. Maybe this could be a chance for him to find a new place and start his life over again. Detroit sounds like a good stop for now at least, as he can probably land a job working at one of the various steel plants lying about.

After all, they don't call it the Motor City for nothing!

As he pulls into town for a bit of a break after that long drive, Clarence parks the truck and steps out into the sunshine. What a beautiful day it is out here! Just the time for a man down on his luck to try and turn his life around!

Heading into the nearest coffee shop, Clarence walks up to the counter with a smile and a wave at the cashier; hoping to try and cheer the woman up a little bit. As he tries to strike up a conversation and thanks the lady for the coffee, he can't help but notice what her nametag says:

_JANE_

_It couldn't be_, he thinks to himself, smacking himself out of his stupor as he tells the lady to keep the change and heads out to the little patio that they have outside. Thinking about Luke is only gonna set him off, so it's best not to dwell on the fact. Besides, there are plenty of Jane's in the world – Clarence is just getting paranoid again.

Settling himself down at one of the picnic tables, Clarence picks up a newspaper that somebody left lying around and opens it up to the front page.

_ESCAPE FROM ALCATRAZ! FOUR INMATES ESCAPE THE ISLAND PRISON – GONE WITHOUT A TRACE!_

Gazing at the four mugshots of some people named Kenny, William, Luke and Lee, Clarence's eye twitches for a moment before he folds the paper up and brings the coffee to his lips.

"Good for them," he comments, taking a sip and placing it back down. If Clarence had skimmed further down the page, he would've noticed the part explaining how Alcatraz was shutting down later that month, but he remains blissfully unaware for now.

Best that it stays that way – after all, Clarence wouldn't want to ruin a perfectly sunny afternoon.

He waves to an elderly couple before drinking the rest of his steaming beverage in silence.

_Meanwhile…_

The waves batter and splash at the shores of Angel Island; scaring some of the construction workers with how high the waves can truly get around here. They really haven't a clue why they're over here instead of off on Alcatraz with the rest of their crew – it's not as if this place is gonna become a tourist attraction or anything.

After all, who would want to go for a tour of a haunted prison?

That's right – the workers all know it, and the prisoners that they're in the process of shipping off know it too. The names are passed around like a ghost story… Luke… Lee… Carver… Kenny… The men who disappeared in a puff of smoke. Their names are gonna live on in infamy for years to come, being the only people to ever get out of the cells like that.

Did they die? Are they living among society right now? Well, shucks, who knows, really?

"We'd better be getting paid extra for this shit," one of the workers complains; lighting up a cigarette and inhaling the fumes. "This whole fucking place is cursed, man. I'm telling you – I didn't like the look of this island when we sailed over. All that fog and shit man… Creepy as hell."

"Would you quit whining already? Those are just tall tales," his buddy rolls his eyes, hammering various pieces of metal into the ground. "Now come on – the work ain't gonna finish itself."

"Ha! I wish," the man grumbles, but suddenly widening his eyes as he spots something floating into the shore. "Holy fuck! Look, Pete! Over there!"

Pete, narrowing his eyes as he sees what his friend's going on about, drops his hammer and walks over towards it.

"Jesus Christ, dude! Don't go over there!"

"Calm down and think about it, Johnny!" Pete retorts, beckoning for him to follow in behind. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph… it's a person! Come on over and help me drag him in! Fucking hell…"

As a team, Pete and Johnny manage to drag the body onto the dirt and flip the person over onto their back. It's a man with brown hair that's been cut off recently, wearing a prison shirt and skin as pale as the snow.

"Damn it… we've gotta tell somebody!" Johnny insists, getting a nod from Pete as he sighs in discouragement.

Another one from the prison, it seems.

As Pete turns around with his friend to report the death to their supervisor, the wind bites and howls at the body's wet skin and clothes; whipping through the air as it viciously comes roaring off the ocean waves. If this man was alive, he probably would've developed a sever case of hypothermia.

As the men try their best to explain things to the supervisor… the fingers on the body start to twitch slightly.

After about a minute or two of this, Luke's eyes re-open – only this time being a dull grey as a low, hungry growl elicits from the back of his throat.


End file.

Walking Dead, Crime, Mystery