No turning back. He wriggles into the pipe and starts crawling, plastic bag dragging behind.

RED (V.O.)

Andy crawled to freedom through five hundred yards of shit-smelling foulness I can't even imagine. Or maybe I just don't want to.

EXT -- FIELD -- NIGHT (1966)

Rain is falling in solid sheets. Shawshank is half a mile distant. BOOM DOWN to reveal the creek… and PUSH IN toward the mouth of the sewer pipe that feeds into it.

RED (V.O.)

Five hundred yards. The length of five football fields. Just shy of half a mile.

Fingers appear, thrusting through the heavy-gauge wire mesh covering the mouth of the pipe. Andy's face looms from the darkness, peering out at freedom. He wrenches the mesh loose, pushes himself out, and plunges head-first into the creek. He comes up sputtering for breath. The water is waist-deep.

He wades upstream, ripping his clothes from his body. He gets his shirt off, spins it through the air over his head, flings the shirt away. He raises his arms to the sky, turning slowly, feeling the rain washing him clean. Exultant. Triumphant. A FLASH OF LIGHTNING arcs from horizon to horizon.

INT -- ANDY'S TUNNEL -- DAY (1966)

Once again, we see stunned faces as CAMERA PULLS BACK.

RED (V.O.)

The next morning, right about the time Racquel was spilling her little secret…

INT -- CASCO BANK OF PORTLAND -- MORNING (1966)

The door opens. Spit-shined shoes enter. DOLLY the shoes to the counter.

RED (V.O.)

…a man nobody ever laid eyes on before strolled into the Casco Bank of Portland. Until that moment, he didn't exist -- except on paper.

FEMALE TELLER (O.S.)

May I help you?

TILT UP to Andy. Smiling in Norton's gray pinstripe suit.

ANDY

My name is Peter Stevens. I've come to close out some accounts.

INT -- BANK -- SHORTLY LATER (1966)

The teller is cutting a cashier's check while the MANAGER carefully examines Mr. Stevens' various I.D.s.

RED (V.O.)

He had all the proper I.D. Driver's license, birth certificate, social security card. The signature was a spot-on match.

MANAGER

I must say I'm sorry to be losing your business. I hope you'll enjoy living abroad.

ANDY

Thank you. I'm sure I will.

TELLER

Here's your cashier's check, sir. Will there be anything else?

ANDY

Please. Would you add this to your outgoing mail?

He hands her a package, stamped and addressed. Gives them a pleasant smile. Turns and strolls from the bank.

RED (V.O.)

Mr. Stevens visited nearly a dozen banks in the Portland area that morning. All told, he blew town with better than 370 thousand dollars of Warden Norton's money. Severance pay for nineteen years.

INT -- OFFICE -- DAY (1966)

A MAN in shirtsleeves is going through the mail on his desk. He finds Andy's package, rips it open. Pulls out the black ledger and files. Scans a cover letter. Holy shit. He dashes to his door and yanks it open, revealing the words on the glass: "PORTLAND DAILY BUGLE -- Editor In Chief."