(loading portions of the deer he shot with help from Kimble and Phil Jr.) I keep my camp meat back here. The law gets a little snoopy. I reckon you know about that, though.
(Phil Jr. hands Kimble a piece that he gives to Corbin)
CCorbin
(to Phil Jr.) I didn't hear you tell him thanks boy. Now look, son, just because a man kills his wife.....
For Richard Kimble, another shabby room, another lonely night, another reaching out to touch someone he has met along the way. That is how it is, that is how it must remain. Richard Kimble is a fugitive.
Those who run need sanctuary, a time and a place to catch their breath and plan ahead. On the estate of a wealthy couple, Richard Kimble has found a temporary haven.
The farm hand who likes his work lives a wholesome, uncomplicated life -- unless he is Richard Kimble, fugitive. The quiet country road is a road to danger, the peaceful village or farm, a potential trap.
How much farther must a fugitive go before he can stop and rest. North or East or West or South. One direction is as good, or as bad, as another, if you're Richard Kimble, fugitive.
You travel at night if you're on the run. The dark is a shield against curious eyes, against questions, against talk. Haunted by what lies behind. As always, fearful of what lies ahead.
Richard Kimble still travels in the dark. Waiting. Hoping for the day he can prove his innocence. Until then, it must remain night for him. Until then, Richard Kimble must be what he is. A fugitive.
Another stopping place at the end of another road. If your name is Richard Kimble, you're guilty of escape and flight. You have no future unless you can find the past: the night of September 17th, two years ago. You saw the man who killed your wife that night. The face was there for only a moment but you'll never forget it. And you keep looking. Today, a truck driver mentions a one-armed man in Decatur. The description fits.
Some will believe him, some will not. Some will change their beliefs, but most important, he again believes in himself. He again has the will to run, and for a fugitive, this instinct is survival.
Little fishing villages that dot the coastline are like the sea that sustains them: capricious, sometimes cordial, sometimes angry, dangerous. Tonight, the village of Puerto Viejo will be festive. Handyman Jeff Parker rooms in the warehouse loft. He's had a pleasant month here but he's made no commitments -- for it's only a matter of time till he has to move on. Parker is a fugitive.
Somewhere far ahead in the distance and time, lies a harbor of many names: safety, love security, peace. Meantime, the only haven for Richard Kimble is the freedom to move and remain a fugitive.
After a while, one town is much like any other. And even a man running from the law must pause occasionally for the routine of everyday life. But, for Richard Kimble, everyday life is anything but routine.
For Richard Kimble, there is still no end to his flight. It could come tomorrow, or next year, or never. But tonight, Richard Kimble is almost content. For having helped find a home, and an end to running for another fugitive.
Never chase a thief -- not if your own fear of capture is probably greater than his. Even in the fashionable remoteness of Indian Lake Lodge, that fear haunts this clerk who calls himself Stu Manning. At other times, Richard Kimble might have enjoyed vacationing here. But there is no vacation for a fugitive.
