Meanwhile, in verdant Wilcox, Arizona, Lincoln, and LJ are marking time in the back of a single police cruiser. It's good to know that with such a high-profile apprehension of a nationally-wanted felon and his son, there's no need to put the Burrows boys in separate cars, or to have a multiple-car escort to make sure something doesn't go wrong.

Anyhoodle, Linc is trying to convince the two cops in the front seat that L.J. has nothing to do with the whole sordid escape-from-prison mess when a big, black van looms into view. Because it quickly gets up to ramming speed, the cop soon concludes, "I don't think it's one of ours." You think? Also, why does it not surprise me that the same geniuses who had but one dinky car for the most wanted man in America do not think to drive evasively? Long story short: the squad car is soon run off the road into the luxuriously leafy old-growth forest that is so common throughout Arizona. Not one to miss an opportunity for escape, Linc soon kicks open a back door and bids L.J. to follow him as they hobble to freedom. Good thing L.J. suffered no internal injuries from his run-in with the speeding car, huh?

The Burrows boys begin running awkwardly, but a squad of rapidly moving Sprockets quickly apprehends them. The guys all grab the still-handcuffed Linc and L.J. quickly, while the woman decides to take command of the situation with an "Okay, calm down --" opener. It is ineffective: Linc un-calmly head-butts her. She rears back, and then Linc gets her goat again by interrupting her attempted threat to bellow, "Who the hell are you?" She tells him they're with his father. Dad Ex Machina! Awesome!

And now we move to a conversation between Mahone and Kellerman. Kellerman is all, "Lincoln Burrows has been apprehended!" but Mahone is too chill to care. Kellerman says, "I'll need your talents on the ground." What an excellent euphemism for "I will need you to gun someone down in cold blood." I must begin using it immediately with my own henchmen. Now, if only I could find reliable henchmen... Anyway, enough about me. Mahone is all, "I'll get there when I get there," and poor magnificent bastard Kellerman is forced to get snippy with him: "I don't think you heard me. Get to Arizona." Mahone protests, "I'm thisclose to Scofield." Kellerman snaps, "We have a bird in the hand." "So might I," Mahone counters. It's too bad all that time spent staring at birdbaths didn't help him understand that the whole point to the "bird in the hand" bromide is that it's what you do have that counts, not what you might get. Anyway, Mahone reveals that he's in lovely Gila, New Mexico, so he can crash Michael's rendezvous with Dr. Sara later today.