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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.