Within seconds, the guys are on the beach. With a "Hey!," Lincoln bursts from the underbrush. Michael "hey"s him back -- one hopes the brevity of the greetings were inspired by a tight timeline and not an emotional issue -- and they get down to business. "We got what we need?" Michael asks. "We got what we need," Lincoln confirms. "What do we need?" Splenda asks. Lincoln notices him for the first time and says wryly, "Always picking up strays, huh?" Heh.
Everyone heads toward a spot on the sand -- Mahone helping Whistler -- and they begin to dig. Well, everyone except Whistler, who's checking the stopwatch Susan B. gave him and attempting to weasel out of the escape once again: "If you think [the One World Conspiracy] is going to swap me for your nephew, you're mistaken." Michael: "Shut up." Whistler continues, "Once they get hold of me, they're going to kill all of you, and I don't want Sofia caught in the crossfire. Listen, just let me go. I'll contact them. I promise. I'll say I'll turn myself in once L.J.'s safe." This time, Linc has had enough: "Hey! You've got no say in what happens to my son. You got it?" He and Whistler are about to throw down when Mahone comes over and reminds them that really, the point here is not to get a suntan, but to escape already. As if to underscore the seriousness of the situation, we get a shot of the soldiers doing riflerobics. By the time they're done, they’ll be able to say, "Check out the guns!" and mean it in multiple ways.
Michael opens the cooler that Linc buried those many episodes ago, and he pulls out tiny air tanks. As he begins to hand them out, he explains, "The military controls all the roads around the prison." "You didn't consider a boat?" Whistler asks incredulously. "They show up here and we're ten yards offshore, and we're target practice," Michael replies, tossing him a canister. Mahone notes, "Five guys, four tanks." Oh, lord -- please don't tell me we're about to witness this year's "Two girls, one cup." Actually, we're about to witness Linc being hostile: "Sucks for you, Mahone." Michael tosses Mahone a tank and says he'll share with Lincoln. As Linc orders everyone to toss their boots in the cooler, he's also fielding a phone call from a very tense Susan B. She tells Linc he's got 20 minutes to meet her at a predetermined meeting spot in Panama City. He's all, "Gotta swim! Bye!" Then, demonstrating some forethought, he whips out a baggie for everyone's valuables. Whistler says, "I need to put my book in there," which is how he discovers that he no longer has said book. When he begins freaking out, Michael says coolly, "I thought you already figured out the coordinates." Whistler hollers, "I didn't memorize them! I wrote them in the book!" Keep it up, James, I'm sure there are a few soldiers in the jungle who haven't heard you yet. Mahone is all, "We can continue this discussion once we've escaped" and Linc begins herding people toward the water. Mahone asks Linc to please put his photo of little Cameron Mahone in the baggie, but Linc tells him, "Screw you, Mahone." Probably not a good idea to work the father-son angle with the guy whose dad you killed, Mahone. Splenda balks because, "I don't swim so good." Linc says brusquely, "Too bad, kid, because you're getting wet. Get in." Michael tends to his stray; he'll basically swim Splenda along, and they'll share tanks, switching off every ten seconds. That settled, the guys get in the water. Sadly, they do not disrobe first. I have to take a minute to get over my crushing disappointment over this tragic oversight.