Wrong Turn 3: Left for Dead

Yeah!

Go, Trey! Go!

- Come on, man!

- You guys are slow!

- Don't get caught up in the rocks.

- Oh, my God!

Come on. Keep it going north-south.

Look out for that rock!

Look out!

Whoo! Whoo!

My turn.

That's it.

Jesus, Alex. Anyone ever told you to go

slow when we first enter the chute?

Slow is for pussies.

Get in there.

Let's set up camp

here for the night.

All right.

Let's pull the boats in.

This place is perfect.

Hey. We're gonna go look

for some firewood.

You do that.

I'm gonna blow a stick.

Don't hog all the kush.

Mmm.

You are a total exhibitionist.

So what?

The girls need to breathe.

- We're in the middle of the woods.

- Who's gonna notice?

I don't know.

Some banjo-playing freak.

- What?

- Forget it.

Hey, where's Trey?

Oh, the Boy Scout's gathering

the right kindling up the river.

Like there's a wrong kind.

I'm gonna go look for him.

You guys, don't do anything

that will scare the animals.

- Okay?

- Mm-hmm.

Hey.

Alex thinks I'm a slut.

Do you think I'm a slut?

Yes. But that is what

I love about you.

- I thought you loved my tits.

- I do. You have perfect tits.

I could hold them forever.

Please help me!

Oh!

Help!

Please, help! Help!

Ooh!

Hey, come on!

Why don't you step off, skinhead?

You fight one bean,

you fight the whole burrito, huh?

Quita!

You got your sh*t set?

Just make sure your f***ing

taco jockeys don't f*** it up.

Don't test me, cabron.

You know, normally,

I'd slit your throat for less.

But seeing as we're business partners,

I think I'll let it slide.

Just remember one thing.

You're not the only one

that's good at slitting throats.

Now, I paid you a lotta f***ing money

to help put this together.

So the sh*t better come good

like clockwork next week.

Don't you worry, Chavez.

I won't burn you.

Money is money.

It makes the world go round.

Oh.

I'm not worried...

but we all know

how you like to burn things.

Firebug.

All right, keep moving.

Let's go, guys.

Man, he is an idiot.

I'm just telling you

what he told me.

Hey. Late on your last day?

Farmer will probably

write your ass up for it too.

He can write all he wants.

Damn, Nate, those are some

expensive-looking threads.

You got to dress for success, Walter.

Nate, I was just telling Walter here

how Sergeant Farmer was saying...

you're probably just gonna flunk out

in your first semester anyway.

Oh! Nice.

I really care what he thinks.

Ah, by the way, warden wants to see you.

He says we got a transfer tonight.

Oh, man, I just wanna have

a peaceful shift and go home,

not go on a goddamn road trip.

- I'll see you out there, man.

- See ya.

Cell Block "A"

prisoners, clear the yard.

Clear the yard.

- You wanted to see me, Warden?

- Nate.

- You know Willy here, don't you?

- A prisoner from Cell Block 3.

Willy Juarez is actually U.S. Marshal

William Juarez. This is Marshal Davis.

They're gonna help us out

with the Hazelton transfer...

specifically with Carlo Chavez.

That transfer isn't

supposed to happen until next week.

Yeah, well, I pushed it to tonight.

Our friends here got word...

that Chavez's gang may attempt to

break him out during the transfer.

We put Juarez undercover

to try and find out...

who he's passing

the information through.

You chain him up

next to Chavez on the bus.

Nate, only you will know

my real identity in case of an incident.

Now, for this to work,

Chavez has to trust me.

As an added precaution,

I've altered your route.

Nobody knows it

but the people in this room.

I'm counting on you, Nate.

- Thanks, Ally.

- No problem, boss.

Sheriff's station. Deputy Lane speaking.

Yeah. When?

What type of vehicle were they driving?

Ye-Yeah. Where can we reach you?

Thanks. We'll get back to you.

Some college kids went missing, they

were river rafting and didn't come back.

- How long?

- A couple of days.

- Where?

- Bluefish River area.

They probably stayed over so

they could camp a little longer.

I'll take a drive out there.

I can do that, Sheriff.

You don't have to.

No. It's fine.

I could use the fresh air.

Come on, Leon!

Hey, come on! Hey!

- What the f*** do you want?

- We're going on a bus ride, Mr. Chavez.

- What, now?

- Yeah, now. You know the drill.

Well, this sh*t ain't right.

Where're you taking me?

Hazelton.

But they said I wasn't going

till next week.

I guess they couldn't wait

to see you.

What about my sh*t?

We'll have it boxed up

and shipped. Let's move, Chavez.

Touch me again,

I'll break your f***in' fingers.

Just move your ass

before I lose my patience.

Oh, no, you don't. No. You're not

chaining that murderer next to me.

Shut up, Crawford.

Let's get Chavez up front followed by

Juarez here and then the rest of'em.

What's your problem?

My problem is... I don't wanna

be chained to a whack job...

who went all post-traumatic stress

on some poor a**hole in a bar.

I mean, what-what-what-You know,

couldn't hack the war, soldier boy? Huh?

- Can't handle your liquor?

- Listen. I pushed the guy. He fell.

And he hit his head.

Okay? I'm innocent.

- Yeah. So am I.

- And so is everyone else in here.

Never trust a con, huh?

I'm not buying your bullshit,

soldier boy.

I heard you had your hands

all up in the cash register.

Just leave me alone.

Oh, now. Soldier boy

wants to be left alone.

Oh! She had what?

You get a "DearJohn" letter?

Yeah. Yeah, went psycho

when you found out...

your wife was f***ing a real marine,

you punk-ass b*tch?

That's enough. Shut up.

Man, I'm just saying, I don't

wanna be chained to a murderer.

I mean, at least stealing cars,

that's an honorable trade.

Jesus Christ, Crawford. Floyd over here

killed 3 people that we know about.

That... That's different, man.

Floyd's my friend.

Just get moving!

Keep it moving.

Get outta the way.

Move. Watch your step.

Here are the transfers.

Gas up here.

The sheriff will be told

you're coming...

you're scheduled to arrive.

Stupid sh*t, making us go all night.

F***ing bullshit! Don't you think?

Shut the f*** up and don't talk.

Floyd!

- What the hell?

- What you laughing at, b*tch?

- F*** you, Adolf.

- You're dead, wetback.

Enough!

It's not him you should be worrying about.

Right?

It's all right. I got the word out.

It better be all right, homes.

So...

what you gonna do

when you graduate law school?

Practice law.

I know that, wiseass.

- What kind of law?

- The kind that buys me a big townhouse...

on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

- So it's all about money?

- I plan on doing some pro bono work.

But first I got to be successful.

Hmm. You got some pretty big expectations.

I put myself through school, and I'm gonna

put myself through law school.

And when I'm all done,

I wanna retire to, like, Miami.

South Beach. Live a nice,

comfortable life, you know.

Retire?

Man, you'll be too old to enjoy it.

Money isn't everything, my friend.

- I gotta go.

- Just can't wait.

- Move.

- Oh, God.

- Walter, where's the fire?

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