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...for the families
of Malaysia flight MH370,

227 passengers
and 12 crew members

have simply vanished

without any real explanation.

Up next, the bizarre case
of Alistair Skinner
and The Cult of The Missing

when Mass Disappearances
Case Files returns.

When I can't sleep,
I'm literally a zombie.

But when my doctor recommended
Surreniquel for my insomnia,

of course I had questions.

Were the stories
on the Internet true
or just fake news?

At Gemini-Hastings,
we understand the confusion.

That's why we are donating
one dollars of every purchase

to the Organization
For Journalistic Integrity.

Because Surreniquel is
an effective and mild solution

for troubles with sleeplessness,
and is recognized

by 17 of the world's most
respected scientific journ--

Toby?

Toby?

Where are you,
you little fucker?

There you are.

You're awfully quiet...

...for a little boy.

The Others are coming.

In the Middle East,

the US military outsources

to private war contractors,

Doubles the number of troops
without telling the taxpayers.

You can do things,
hide things, no oversight.

We're just one private company
among dozens.

We handle delicate operations.

The Global War on Terror
is a bottomless money machine

that creates a fog
around itself.

So that no one here back home
has the slightest idea

of what's been going on
in Afghanistan,

the longest war now
in US history,

in Iraq, Syria, Libya...

Spreading democracy
and fighting terror
endlessly without borders.

Make sense, right?

But there's one problem.

Something very strange

that doesn't make
any sense at all.

It's a vanishing act.

All through the Middle East.

Populations being erased.

Weapons used in war have a habit
of finding their way back home.

This vanishing act,

it's here now.

It's come home to America.

Jay, I don't need
a fucking job, man.

- Alex.
- Oh, Sam.

- You're on your cell phone.
- No, I was just making
an important call--

You know, I tried paging you,
but then I see
you don't have your walkie.

You know,
the one I gave you last week.

I left it in the car.

I don't know
what to do with you.
Every time there's an excuse.

Your shoes, you're not
even wearing the shoes.

Security guards
don't wear running shoes, okay?

- Every time there's an excuse,
every time.
- Okay, if I'm fired,

then let's go, let's do it.

The CIA contracted our company

to oversee the distribution
of a vaccine.

A vaccine given out very low-key

to tribes in villages
off the main roads
of Iraq and Afghanistan.

Lucid-D is its name.

A vaccine being tested
on civilians.

They were told it was for polio,

but that was a lie.

The Lucid-D vaccine
wipes out populations.

Seen it with my own eyes.

Villages with hundreds
of people empty,

just months
after being inoculated.

But there's something
even more fucked up.

Call it a weird side effect.

It's the bodies,
they go missing.

Eventually, you start
asking questions.

Like, where did you bury them?

Where are all the mass graves?

Then you get the strange answer.

That there aren't any graves.

That they didn't
burn them either.

That they're just gone.

Lucid-D has come home

to the United States.

Our allies will soon
have it too.

But it wears a mask now.

It's no longer a vaccine.

It's a pill.

The drug is called Rexittack,
a Schedule 1 narcotic.

And Jeremy was advised to
immediately start injecting it

or suffer grandiose side effects

from a commonly prescribed
medication called Surreniquel.

You were scammed by a doctor
without a license.

He told me
I would suffer brain damage

if I continued
taking Surreniquel.

He said I would sleep better.

On Rexittack? He said that?

He, uh, gave me a schedule for

three times-a-day,
uh, injections.

But Surreniquel is a mild,
commonly prescribed sleep aid,

FDA approved
and well-documented.

- I've had three seizures--
- In six weeks?

Six weeks.

Uh, immune system's shot.

I sleep maybe...

- What's going on?
- Come on in, man.

My transmission is fucked.

And I've got her upstairs
convincing the landlord
that I smoke pot down here.

Don't you?

No, I go outside,

but now I have a text saying

that I can't do it
anywhere on the property.

Well, I got fired.

- From the mall?
- Mm-hmm.

I guess that sucks.

Carol Marson,

estranged daughter
of Betsy Marson Galloway.

- So what do you want me to do?
- Just follow her.

Her mother thinks
she's in a cult.

- Really?
- Yeah.

Her mother's rich.
She lives out of state.

She's just been paying Derrett
to keep tabs on her.

- So where's Derrett now?
- Derrett is in rehab.

That's why you're helping me
with some of this shit.

Hmm.

What kind of cult?

All I know...

...is she doesn't want anything
to do with her mother

or her mother's money.

I guess that's a cult.

Do you ever see Sarah?

Sarah? Like...

Sarah's ghost?

Yeah, maybe.

Uh, no.

Do you ever dream of her?

No, man, I don't dream
about my dead niece.

Alex, what's the matter
with you?

Nah, I'm good.

Jesus Christ,
you're obviously still
taking that sleeping pill

that fucks with your dreams.

- Hashtag fake news, dude.
- Yeah.

- It doesn't mess with my dreams.
- Hmm.

Oh, Jesus Christ!

She's fucking nuts.

Dude, did she just take
a picture of you
smoking that joint?

Did I tell you
she thinks the Earth is flat?

Dude, why don't you just
smoke it at the park?

Why doesn't she just get
a fuck buddy or something?

People do crazy shit like this
when they've got nothing
to live for.

- Kinda like me.
- Shut up, Jay,
you got tons to live for.

Oh, good.

Maybe you can make me
a list sometime.

The Lucid-D molecule is now
in a drug called hyborexitan.

A pharmaceutical company
in the US called
Gemini-Hastings Biotech

had it patented last year.

It's the main ingredient
in their flagship drug,

an insomnia medication
called Surreniquel.

It took just six months
for the company to get the drug
ready for FDA approval.

six months to develop it,
do all the studies,
run all the human trials.

Six months is impossible.

The three scientists
that invented Surreniquel

are the brains behind Lucid-D.

I know this because they worked
for the same war contractor

from 2003 to 2015.

I knew them.

Surreniquel wasn't conjured up
in a lab in six months.

It was developed in Afghanistan
and Iraq, tested during the war.

I'm telling you, it has
wiped out small populations

in war zones
all over the Middle East.

But Lucid-D didn't happen
without help from high places.

Surreniquel is the result

of a well-planned effort.

What are you looking at?

Hmm.

S-- Sarah?

Sarah?

What's wrong?

Hey, why are you following me?

Why the fuck
are you following me?

Who are you?

You can see her?

Hey!

Are you just gonna
leave me stranded here?

Did you drive my car?

What the fuck?

You're a lousy detective.

Someone should revoke this.

Thank you very much.

No password on your own phone?

I actually did you a favor
back there.

Yeah. And how's that?

If the cops saw you seizing...

...they would have taken you.

Taken me where?

Where no one would find you.

How long was I out?

Not long.

I'm assuming
my mother hired you.

"You let me die at Alger Park"?

You saw her.

Can anybody else see her?

I doubt anyone noticed.

She's not looking for attention.

Are you a psychic or some shit?

Do I see dead people?

She's not dead.

Then what is she?

Was she your girlfriend?

And she died here at Alger Park?

When?

You know way more about me
than I know about you.

Last year.

And that angel on your phone?

She gave that to you
in a dream, right?

Bet you have a hard time
getting rid of it...

...even though it freaks you out
that you got it in a dream.

Should I stop taking
the Surreniquel?

Like your flyers say?

You're way past
the side effects.

- Should I go to a doctor?
- I wouldn't.

They have to report it now.

- Report what?
- People like you.

This would be my cult.

Assume you have my number.

You may wanna give me a call
if you want my help.

Wait. What kind of help?

That woman with the mask?

She's not your girlfriend.

Don't believe anything she says.

We live at a critical time,

when extreme weather
and sea levels are on the rise,

when oil companies are building
drilling platforms

on increasingly
more dangerous waters

as our primary source of power,

a finite resource,
has started to run out,

when more than one third of our
world's species will be erased

by mid-century because of us.

And the human population
continues to grow.

And when Trump
won the election in 2016,

half the nation thought
the world was gonna end.

But unfortunately,
Trump is just a symptom.

You see, America is
the richest nation in the world.

But 40 million of our own people
live in poverty.

We're an empire
on the verge of collapse.

We spend more on our military
than the next eight...

...eight countries combined.

We've been living in an
Orwellian reality since 9/11.

You know, Afghanistan is now
the longest war in US history.

No end in sight.

Ed Snowden revealed
that we're being watched

by a massive
surveillance system,

but we hardly care.

You know,
my brother was a patriot.

He was sent to Afghanistan
to find Bin Laden,

then to Iraq after Bush
and Blair's bait and switch.

Uh, The War On Terror
is the greatest con job
of the 21st century.

And Jeff, like so many soldiers,

has paid a very high price.

In 2000, a Washington think tank

called The Project
For A New American Century,

with neocons like Dick Cheney
and Donald Rumsfeld,

called for America to push its
military into the Middle East

to create a new enemy after
the fall of the Soviet Union.

In 2007, this was confirmed
by four-star general
Wesley Clark,

who revealed that a document
had been circulating
the Pentagon in 2001

that called for an invasion

of seven
Muslim-majority countries

within five years.

You know, fast forward 2016...

...under the leadership
of Nobel Peace Prize winner
Barack Obama,

the US drops 25,000 bombs

at seven
Muslim-majority countries.

The average Westerner

is basically illiterate

when it comes
to the Middle East.

Yeah, we know words, you know,
"Al Qaeda," "Syria," "Assad"...

...but none of us really care
or know what's going on.

I think that's by design.

In Orwell's 1984,
war is perpetual,

the enemy is ambiguous,

and the battlefield exists

in a faraway place
without meaning.

The masses simply fear the enemy
and root for the home team.

We've been put to sleep
by a mass hypnosis so powerful

it erases our collective memory

every time we discover
we've been lied to.

And the weird part...

...is that the real truth...

...it's much scarier
than all the lies.

I've got no appetite.

I'm sore everywhere,

and I'm just really tired.

Rexittack, it's ruined me.

Look at me.

This drug was given to me
by the scum of the Earth,

a liar,
wasn't a, a licensed doctor.

I was fine on Surreniquel.

I, I was sleeping just fine.

Just look at me.

Rexittack is a hoax.

On our breaking news here, uh,

poster child for this entire
Rexittack, uh, epidemic

Jeremy Dorsett.

He has deactivated
his Twitter account

two hours ago.

Reason being?

Suddenly some photos emerged

showing a professional
makeup artist

supplying fake
Rexittack skin damage

onto our beloved Jeremy

before his now fake MSNBC
and Fox interviews.

Netflix has already canceled
his big premiere

on Friday night,
REXITTACK NATION,

blowing his chances
for another White-Helmets-style
Oscar win, obviously.

This Rexittack epidemic
is a hoax.

Corporately-controlled...

Corporately-controlled
mainstream media,

they wave their magic wands...

Alex.

I'm not dreaming.

You're drugged.
Give it up.

It wears off.

You have no idea.

This is so much bigger than you.

The nightmares?

I had them.

You better trust me.

My brother joined the service
because he wanted

to catch the terrorists
behind the 9/11 attacks.

So when the US lied
to the UN Security Council

in order to shift the focus
from bin Laden to Iraq,

my brother didn't question
the bizarre schizophrenia
of the whole thing.

And when Jeff was, uh,
shipped off to Iraq,

we weren't speaking.

He said that I was unpatriotic

for asking questions.

Months later, something changed.

Uh, Jeff started
sending me letters.

Guys in Jeff's unit
were hearing stories

about villages that had been
wiped out, not by combat.

Weird ghost towns,

people missing for no reason.

So one night, Jeff and a couple
of the guys ventured out
to see for themselves.

And they found an empty village.

Uh, TVs and radios left on,

dinner on the table,
livestock still kicking.

No people.

Uh, they found a little girl

hiding in the walls
of an empty house.

She said
that monsters came at night

and kidnapped people
in their dreams.

Jeff and, uh, two soldiers,

they got caught,

they got court-martialed
and sent home.

Jeff had bad PTSD.

He was thrown
in a veteran's hospital

and put on a drug cocktail.

That included Surreniquel,

supposedly still in drug trials.

And the other two guys...

...in different hospitals
in different states,
also on Surreniquel.

All having nightmares
about the war.

Jeff, uh...

Jeff started having nightmares
about his best friend Ralph,

he, he got his head blown off
by an IED.

Soon, Jeff was hearing
a strange noise in his head

and claiming that Ralph
was wandering the halls
of the hospital.

Jeff freaked out on a nurse
when she denied
having seen Ralph's ghost,

denied screaming
after seeing Ralph's, uh,
blown away face.

My dad, uh, tried to get him out
on a weekend pass,

but they threw Jeff
in a straitjacket

and locked him up,

and that's the last time
we saw him.

You know,
the official story was that

all three men were released
on their own recognizance.

My parents, uh,
got caught up in a lawsuit
with the other parents

accusing the government
of having men kidnapped,
as an extraordinary rendition.

Went nowhere.

But what actually happened,
the unofficial story,

is that Jeff
and the two soldiers,

they vanished.

And they were taken, but...

...not by the government.

They were taken by The Others.

I'm sorry for all of this.

I'm Dr. Ferguson.

Carol used to work for me.

You mean before they took away
your license?

They said you were disoriented
when they found you.

Found me?

They broke into my apartment.

You got this from a dream?

From an ex-girlfriend...

...who died.

Alex, by any chance,
did your girlfriend

take her own life?

And you felt
a strange need to keep this,

even though it's got
a chipped wing?

She made it.

When were you put on the drug?

Last year.

For insomnia?

And anxiety.

I'm sorry to inform you
that the Surreniquel
damaged your brain

by the sixth week
of you taking it.

But from what Carol
has told me...

...you've gone way beyond
the regular side effects

to a place that only
a very few seem to go.

All right.
And why should I believe you?

I worked for the company
that makes it.

I know what it does.

At first, you started
to sleep better.

You had more energy
during the day.

And then the dreams started.

You've never seen a war,

have you, Alex?

But you dreamt of war.

And human suffering.

Then along comes Sarah.

She said she was trapped.

And that you were
the only person
who could help her escape.

But she's just a dream.

Carol said
she was wearing a mask.

Yeah, she made them
and sold them online.

Did Carol ever tell you
about Toby?

No, I didn't.

Toby was a little boy
from Carol's childhood
who disappeared.

When she started the drug,

Toby eventually found his way

into her dreams.

But the Toby
in Carol's Surreniquel dreams...

...was different

from the little boy she knew.

He was made of stone,

face and body.

And he had
an excellent reason for this.

Why?

Probably the same reason
Sarah gave for wearing a mask.

Because I couldn't remember
her exact features.

So a mask makes sense, sort of.

But what's a mask
if it can't hide the truth?

They make
a good point, actually.

Our memories aren't as accurate
as we think they are.

We tend to think of the brain
as having a hard drive,
like a computer,

and that our memories
are stored somewhere inside
in perfect condition.

But science has yet to find
even a thumb drive up here.

I don't think memories
are stored in the brain at all.

Well, where would they be
stored then?

I think brains are more like TVs
than computers.

You can watch
The Brady Bunch on TV.

But if you open up the box,
you won't find Jan or Alice.

You won't find
a little Mike Brady

in the wires and the LEDs
giving lectures

that don't even cut it
in the real world.

You won't find any of it.

Why?

Because there's nothing there.

The show is just a transmission

sent to a box.

Transmissions over channels.

Not storage.

That drug...

...has added a brand new channel
to your brain.

You've started to hear
a strange noise.

Yeah.

We call that The Signal, Alex.

We think it's a transmission
your brain is receiving
that you are not meant to hear.

- It fucks up my vision.
- Yes.

I see Sarah when I'm awake.

She saw her too.

When you hear The Signal, Alex,

everyone can see her.

Where does it come from?

We don't know.

What we do know
is that people like you

who start hearing it

don't last very long.

We can temporarily
block The Signal

and buy you some time.

How?

You've already been injected
with a small dose of Rexittack.

What?

Why the fuck would you do that?

- We're not talking
the street version, Alex.
- What the f--

- What the fuck's wrong with you?
- Alex, they're lying to you
about Rexittack in the news.

- It's not even the same drug.
- A bunch of fucking crazy
cult people.

I'd like to go now.
Is that possible?

Fine.

But you should know that
that small dose of Rexittack
is not enough.

It won't last.

There's a new treatment
I'd like to try.

Shut up.
I'm not listening--

Alex, it works.

It worked for me.

Hey, what if I don't do it?

Everything you're talking about?

Then you'll disappear.

Is that a threat?

He's not a prisoner.

Don't treat him like one.

Dude, what the fuck?

9-1-1. What's your emergency,
please?

Sorry, I meant to...

...call the station.

So during his last months, uh,
my brother became obsessed

with the history
of mass disappearances.

You know, bizarre cases
where large populations

mysteriously vanished
for no reason.

Like the disappearance
of the settler colony
of Roanoke, near North Carolina.

The Brazilian village
called Hoer Verde

where 600 people vanished
in 1923.

You know,
Jeff was especially obsessed

with a weird case
from the UK in 1906.

A Jim-Jones-style cult lead
by a charismatic fellow writer

named Alistair Skinner,

called The Church of The Others.

Had about 200 followers,
initially based in London.

When family members
started sniffing around,

Skinner moved his flock
to a plot of land
in rural Wales.

The police raided the camp
but only found
two cult members,

an old woman and a teenage girl.

And the rest were gone.

They told the police
a bizarre story

about beings
from another dimension

called The Others.

They said The Others
feed on fear like a drug,

and use nightmares as portals

between their dimension
and ours.

See, at bedtime, uh,
they were forced to ingest
this white powder

which Skinner said
made their brains more
receptive to The Others.

So, through The Others,
he said there were
three stages to salvation.

First, you suffer nightmares.

Violent dreams about people
hurting other people.

The second involves being
haunted by dead loved ones.

The third stage,
they call communion,

when your body and soul
merge with The Others

and you transcend our world.

Neither could explain
why they were the only two
left behind.

Only one paper mentioned
that the girl complained

of a strange noise in her head.

So the police dug up
a large burial plot,

hoping to find the bodies
of the missing cult members.

Instead, they felt a coffin
with no body.

Just a diary and a photo.

The only photo you can find
of Skinner.

He's surrounded
by three figures called

The Sisters Of Sorrow,

gatekeepers of The Others' dimension.

So, supposedly, Skinner
was buried in the coffin,

in a sleep, as part of a ritual

that would give him access
to multiple dimensions.

A reward
for his faithful service.

Weird story.

And hard to swallow when
your brother's losing his mind.

Of course that all changed
when the Surreniquel controversy
got out.

When a drug company
with serious ties
to the military fires 95%

of their doctors worldwide,

something's up.

You see, these are scientists

who are risking their careers
to warn the public

about the drug
they themselves worked on.

I think The Others are real.

If believing
in multiple dimensions is crazy,

then so is science,

and so is mathematics.

They've been watching us,
salivating

at our centuries of stabbing
each other in the back.

See, The Others are a parasite.

They're the, uh, multinational
extracting oil

from a defenseless ecosystem,

and then moving on.

They're just in it for the high.

The real nightmares
are the Alistair Skinners
and Hitlers

who let them in, the kind of
evil that never dies,

the kind of evil that's just...

...too big, uh,

too big for one man.

All law enforcement agencies
and the military

have been organized
to search out

and destroy
the marauding ghouls.

Their survival
as the heavy rain--

Holy fuck!

This is...

Holy fuck!

Don't look so freaked out, man.

Don't worry,
she won't tell her mom.

I guess she fucking won't.

Look what she's involved in.

So what about Derrett?

Fuck! He's in rehab.

That fucking drug is messed up.

And the media's
feeding us a bunch of bullshit.

I think that's a bunch
of bullshit.

Holy Christ,
they're fucking liars, man.

If you think Wolf Blitzer
and Rachel Maddow

are serious journalists...

...you are a disgrace
to millennials.

Whatever that means, dude.

When I was a kid,

we had 13 channels,

and something called
investigative journalism.

- You didn't have 13 channels.
- We had a rotor.

I'll tell you about it sometime.

But these CNN guys,

they're all multimillionaires.

- PR firms...
- So what?

...stylists...

I don't wanna get
into your shit right now.

Look, I think

they're really fucking
with my head.

Injecting me with Rexittack.

Got my eviction notice today.

Really?

Yeah.

The flat-earther.

She's got the landlord convinced
I smoke down here.

A bunch of other bullshit
I didn't even know about.

Well, I think your landlord's
stupid for believing her.

Alex.

You've been telling me
that for months

you've been having these
messed-up nightmares with...

...some fucking fem bot
pretending she's my dead niece.

Are you telling me
it was just guilt?

No.

- Was it the drug?
- Look, I shouldn't have
said anything.

No! No!

What's this?

No!

Night of the Living Dead.

No!

No!

It looks like The Walking Dead,

just black and white.

No![screams] No!

It's so ahead of its time.

It's the 99%,
rising from the dead.

Because these people inside
are just too stupid

to see how fucked up
the system is.

So what?

They're gonna break in
and tell 'em?

No, they know that's pointless.

They just eat them instead.

What I said before,

I'm sorry, man.

My sister...

...was a shitty mother.

I, I hate to say it but...

...Sarah took a backseat
to my sister's

endless parade
of psychotic boyfriends.

I know.

If I wasn't such a loser...

- ...I'd have adopted her
out of that goddamn mess--
- Jay, you're not a loser.

Point is...

...when you two started
seeing each other...

...Sarah had a little spark
in her eyes.

Clearly, it wasn't enough.

No, well...

...her road was mapped out
long before you guys even met.

Jay...

...I don't think I know
who I am anymore.

Neither did she.

This is real.

In the next few decades, sea
levels will continue to rise.

Extreme weather events
will continue to grow,

both in strength and number,

and many of the poorest regions
of the Earth

will become
virtually uninhabitable.

If you don't believe
the science,

you might consider the warnings
of the World Bank,

or the US military itself.

Climate change
and a growing population
with nowhere to go.

Mankind has never faced
the terrible things
that are coming this century.

Governments will collapse
and armies will be outnumbered

when an immense
global migration crisis

on a scale unimaginable
destroys everything we've built.

Except for one constant.

A hard truth about our history

is that democracy as we know it,

it's only
a few hundred years old.

We've always been ruled
by an elite upper class,

a small group
of immensely powerful families

and individuals
who control governments,

corporations, land, resources,

and anything else
you can think of.

In the last few decades,

they've been consolidating
their power

through trade deals
and banking laws.

The richest 1% today

owns half of the world's wealth.

Alistair Skinner
was a self-serving
religious maniac,

and pieces of his diary
are all over the Internet.

They predict
a doomsday scenario,

like most
of the world's religions.

I'm an atheist myself,

but if I had to place a bet
on Armageddon,

I'd put all my money
on this century.

The Others?

They know what's coming.

The vaccine and the Surreniquel?

Just an opening act.

See, The Others have
struck a deal

with a class of human beings
who will do anything

to protect their power.

An out-of-control,
terrified population

teeming with nightmares

won't be a problem for the 1%

when the masses suddenly
begin to disappear.

Toby was my best friend.

I was nine, he was six.

My mother didn't like it.

She was just embarrassed

that I was best friends
with the son of a poor woman

she hired to be her housekeeper.

There was a forest
at the edge of town.

It was a Sunday.

I wanted us to ride our bikes
to the woods, me and Toby.

We had this urban legend
in our town.

A gang called
the Black Daggers
that had a fort in the woods,

where they had
animal sacrifices,

and satanic rituals.

I told my dad that
we were biking to the school...

...but we rode to the forest.

It was huge.

We rode our bikes
for, like, an hour.

And got lost.

When we couldn't find the path
that we came in on,
Toby started crying.

I got mad and hid by a creek.

When Toby
finally stopped yelling...

...I went back to find him...

...but all I found was his bike.

It got dark, my dad showed up.

There were search parties.

It was all over the news.

We never found him.

And you're not even listening.

No wonder you had nightmares.

That thing in my nightmares,

it wasn't Toby.

It was impersonating my memories
of a stone statue.

This ugly memorial...

...built by my mother's church.

The same freakish grin.

One night I smashed it
with a hammer...

...but that just
made it scarier.

I was the first person
to try the treatment a year ago.

No more stone boy.

And the Surreniquel nightmare
stopped.

And so did The Signal.

Climate chaos
is not such a big deal

when you can build your own
fortress on high ground.

But an out-of-control
world population

is a threat to the One Percent.

Even a fortress isn't safe
when millions of savages
are charging your gates.

So, The Others will wipe out
most of the population
for the oligarchs.

In exchange,

The Others will get prime-time
access to our suffering...

...and our nightmares.

It's the perfect deal.

No one will believe it.

The thing about
conspiracy theories

is that eventually,

the internal documents get out.

When Gemini-Hastings
fired its doctors, uh,

for blowing the whistle
on Surreniquel,

many of them joined
an underground resistance

of hackers
and extreme activists.

They are desperately
working together

to uncover evidence
about the drug

about The Others,
the New World Order.

Rexittack is just one attempt
at finding an antidote.

They call these dream tokens.

These are objects
that have come from inside
the Surreniquel nightmares.

Now the FBI pulls these photos
as fast as they leak online.

All kinds of new metals,

stuff not on the periodic table.

Maybe these will lead
to something.

...keep changing.

Yeah.

Hey.

Hey.

What is it?

Maybe it's like the angel.
She gave it to you in the dream.

- No, it wasn't her.
- Who was it?

I don't know, I don't remember,
but it wasn't her.

Are we conducting a séance?

Alex, the treatment we're about
to try tonight might not work.

But it worked for her, right?

How many people
have you tried this on?

Another two milligrams
of Ativan.

He's too lucid.

Alex, here's the deal.

Whatever happens tonight,

I was never here.

You and I have never met.

We're applying
what little we know

to a problem
we barely understand.

But what if it doesn't work?

Then I have nothing else
to offer you.

Dr. Ferguson...

...I'll be outside.

Okay.

Something will happen
to her, right?

Tonight, Alex,

her name is Sarah.

But she's an imposter.

Don't forget that.

And she's lying to you
to breach a barrier.

What barrier?

A line not meant to be crossed.

Will I remember anything?

Hopefully not.

How are you feeling?

Like Jell-O.

Okay, what am I supposed
to be seeing here?

Absolutely nothing.

Good, then they're working.

You're all set.

Okay, now I'm seeing red.

Let's get started.

Alex, take a deep breath.

Let the light absorb you,

and the sound wash over you.

Let go of all your thoughts

and let your mind wander
to a vast expanse.

Moment by moment,
you float deep and deep

to a place without space...

...and a time with no worries
of any kind.

Where your mind
is free to wander...

...in a dream
that lasts forever.

Alex, what do you see?

A hose...

...exhaust flooding the car...

Sarah?

- Where's Sarah, Alex?
- She's in the car.

Alex, what is Sarah doing?

She's wearing the mask.

Carol.

Alex, you need to grab the mask.

I can't move.

You need to try.

- Remove the mask, Alex.
- I can't move.

Grab the mask.

Grab it.

Okay.

She's doing it.

Doing what, Alex?

Giving me the mask.

And now...

...I'm wearing it.

FBI, open up!

There's been a terrorist attack.

The whole country.
We are in a state of emergency.

They hit our water supplies.

- Where is everybody?
- Everyone's driving
to medical checkpoints.

- Alex, where is Dr. Ferguson?
- I don't know.

It's a nerve agent.

A really bad one.

Carol, they're saying
there's a vaccine.

- We all need to get vaccinated--
- This doesn't make any sense.

Tell me about it.

Six states,
48 cities and counting.

Alex, what happened after
Dr. Ferguson brought you out?

She didn't.

And they already know
who did it. Russia and Iran.

And North Korea likely hacked
the water utilities computers.

Do you remember being put under?

Of course.
What's wrong with you?

Carol, this is serious.

- What do you remember?
- Who cares? Read this list.

Look at this shit.

- "Extreme diarrhea...
- Alex?

- ...seizures, burning skin,
sudden rage--"
- Alex! Alex!

- Look at me.
- What?

I remember everything.

The red light,

Ferguson,

you and that Mike guy.

- What's wrong?
- Nothing.

Yeah. Well, I woke up
not too long ago.

You were still asleep
on the couch.

I guess I assumed
they already left.

They wouldn't do that.

We need to leave.

Why?

Aren't you listening?

To get to a medical checkpoint.

The Signal.

I heard it.

I saw Toby.

- What are you doing?
- I'm calling somebody.

- Who?
- I don't know, whoever answers.

Hang up the phone.

Carol, hang up the phone.

Hang up.

Neither one of us knows
what happened to them.

You're right.

Because we were both asleep.

Come here. Read this.

- We'd better do it.
- Do what?

Essential supplies,
we're gonna need them.

What are you doing?

There's a first aid kit
under the sink in the bathroom.

And there's blankets
in the living closet.

Alex, where exactly
are these medical checkpoints?

Do you know how to get there?

Yes.

We are sending this transmission
from the future.

The future population
has been wiped out

by an alliance
between The Ruling Elite

and a terrorist organization

of other-dimensional origin
called The Others.

All that remains
of the world's citizenry
is a small, slave population.

This transmission is
jamming their signal.

Your brain has
a unique structural anomaly

caused by the hyborexitan toxin,

allowing you
to receive our message.
Listen carefully.

We now know that there
is no scientific difference

between dreams and reality.

They are simply
alternate dimensions bridged

by a state of consciousness
called the Lucid Divide.

Others like you
are mounting a resistance
by crossing dreams and time.

Our only goal is to stop
the Great Global Disappearance
before it happens.

Anyone who is with you now
is likely an agent of The Others

or of The New World Government
itself.

The Lucid Divide
is a dangerous state

where realities intersect
and nothing can be trusted.

We are trying to extract you.

Leave behind
all digital devices.

The enemy is using them
to track you.

I had a dream.

That I'm driving
on Horatio Alger Road...

...this endless road
that leads to a wonderful life.

But the road is
full of potholes...

...and buried in the thick fog
of factory smoke.

In the dream,
the driver is not me.

And the voice on the radio...

...it's my own voice.

And I'm talking to myself.

"Carol, open the door.

Open it now
and fall out on the road.

Too late, he sees you."

At the end of the dream,
I realize that the driver

is a nightmare.

This is not a dream.

Are you gonna kill me?

I just deliver you.

Come on.

Carol!

Carol!

Carol.

You're special, Carol.

They want you to join them.

They need to know
if you share their values.

This is not a dream.

And you are not asleep.

...sought or unsought, by the
military-industrial complex.