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CONTENT WARNING: Heavy existential dread, discussions of suicidal ideation, grief, and loss, descriptions of war, gun violence, and executions, depictions of claustrophobia, burial, and injury, and loud noises

01302020: Beneath the ruins of a shattered dream, two immortals contemplate eternity

Starring Airen Neeley Chaconas as Anna Sheridan, Van Winkle as Sam Bailey, Ezra J. Wayne as Ned Leroux, Virginia Spotts as Kate Sheridan, and Sam Taylor as Ren Park, with original music by Jesse Haugen. Written by Van Winkle and produced by Virginia Spotts, with dialogue editing and sound design by Van Winkle.

This episode was made possible by our supporters at Patreon.com/homesteadcorner, ko-fi.com/homesteadcorner, and our backers on Seed&Spark.

For more information, additional content, and episode transcript, visit thesheridantapes.com

Script

Transcript

CONTENT WARNING: Heavy existential dread, discussions of suicidal ideation, grief, and loss, descriptions of war, gun violence, and executions, depictions of claustrophobia, burial, and injury, and loud noises

[Quiet waves lap on an unknown shoreline]

[Cold wind blows]

[Footsteps on a gravely beach]

Anna Sheridan

Death is um… a tricky thing to talk about. Our knowledge of death — of the fact that we all die — shapes us as people. And yet most of us refuse to acknowledge it with anything more than jokes… at least, until it touches someone we know.

It was four years after my encounter at the Mirror House and the accident that followed. It was a… lonely time in my life. Perhaps the loneliest I’ve ever been, and that’s saying something. I’ve always felt isolated — distant from those around me. Maybe it was the touch of the supernatural. Maybe it was the fact that I was a closeted lesbian growing up in the Midwest. Or maybe I just chose to be alone because I thought it was easier. I’d already lost a friend I could barely remember to something I couldn’t understand, and a part of me still blamed myself for her unmaking.

Oh I still had friends… fellow ghost hunters and people I met at signings who stayed in touch when they could, and I’d just started working with Maria a few years earlier. But they didn’t really know me, because I didn’t want them to. I didn’t think I feared death — I thought that what happened to Amy was worse than death. But looking back on it, that’s exactly what I was afraid of — growing close enough to another person that the severing of that link would be too painful to bear.

And yet, death found me eventually, as it finds everyone. I was in Northern California at the time, on a long backpacking trip outside of cell coverage. I didn’t get Kate’s frantic texts or voicemails until it was far too late. And a few sleepless nights of driving later, I found myself standing beside my father’s grave, watching as they lowered his casket into the ground. I almost didn’t go at all. I couldn’t say goodbye to my dad — not really. But I did go… and right there, in front of my whole family and all of our friends, I finally broke.

I stayed in my childhood room for months after that. I just couldn’t stop crying, not for very long. I barely ate. I hardly slept. I only came out of my room when absolutely necessary, and never lingered longer than I needed to. My mother tried her best, but… she was my mother. All she knew how to do was smother me until I lashed out, then retreat into herself once I did. Kate was a little better but… I didn’t let her in either. I couldn’t.

And then one day in early winter, I stopped crying. Before anyone was awake, I packed my bags, got into my car, and drove east. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t want to know. My phone was dead, but I didn’t bother charging it before I left the house. I just drove for hours and hours and hours until the sun began to set, and I pulled into a scenic overlook on the edge of a winding mountain road. I only realized what I was doing when I found myself standing at the edge of the railing, wondering if it would hurt when I hit the ground.

For some reason I still don’t fully understand, I didn’t jump. Maybe it was that same fear of death that kept me from taking that leap into the unknown. Maybe it was some part of me that still held on to hope that this wouldn’t be my life forever. Or maybe it was just that same curiosity that’s always kept me here: that need to see what’s around the next corner, down that darkened alley, beneath those shadowed trees.

So I kept going. I went back to my old life — seeking out the supernatural and writing my experiences into fiction… Or at least, I tried to. No matter what approach I took or where I looked for inspiration, the words no longer came. Anthony had been as understanding as he could, but Poultice had investors to appease and a strict timeline for publishing my next book. So finally, I rented a cabin in Langlois, Oregon and locked myself in until I finished it.

Or at least, that was the plan. Instead, I found myself hunted by a supernatural fire that tore through the cabin in the dead of night. There was an anger in that fire I still don’t understand — a rage and bloodlust that called out of the flames themselves with a hatred I could feel. And as my lungs began to fill with smoke… I finally realized why I didn’t want to die that night on the overlook — why I would not die in that cabin.

As soon as I escaped from the cabin and the fires were extinguished, the first person I called was Maria. In the heart of the inferno, I’d realized just how much she meant to me… that she’d been my anchor for these last few months, holding me steady in the storm. Even when I couldn’t get out of bed, I still wanted to talk to her… to hear her voice… to know she was okay. To tell her that I loved her.

[Otherworldly thunder]

And for that reason… I need to get back to her. I need to escape this place. I need you to find me.

[Cassette noises]

[Click]

[Main Theme]

Recording Begins

[Cassette noises]

[Click]

[A tape recorder switches on as debris hits the record button]

[Metal creaks under concrete and earth]

[Water drips from broken pipes]

[Electricity sparks distantly]

[Eventually Sam shifts, waking, and gasps in pain when he tries to move]

Sam Bailey

HELP! Someone help! Fuck, I can’t feel my legs… HELP!!! HELP!!!!

[There’s no answer]

[He forces his breathing to slow]

Alright Bailey… you know how to get out of this. Deep breaths… focus on your breathing, stay calm… if you can get across the veil—

Ned Leroux

I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.

[Faint noise of squelching]

Sam Bailey

Oh, of course it’s you.

Ned Leroux

Well unfortunately the building collapsed on both of us, so it’s not like I’m going anywhere.

Sam Bailey

[Scoff] And whose fault is that?

Ned Leroux

Pretty sure it’s yours, actually.

Sam Bailey

Mine? How is this my fault—

Ned Leroux

—Remind me which one of us ran in here first? I was just following you.

Sam Bailey

…shit.

But I mean… we can both get out of here, right? We just need to get across the veil, and then we can—

Ned Leroux

—No Bailey, we can’t.

Sam Bailey

Why not?

Ned Leroux

Because you’re half crushed and bleeding out right now. I doubt

you’d stay conscious long enough to make it across, much less get back. Besides — neither of us are going to die down here. Trust me.

Sam Bailey

So what, we just… wait for ISPHA to get its shit together and dig us out?

Ned Leroux

You got a better idea?

[Far away noises of continued crumbling]

Sam Bailey

Why the hell did you follow me anyways? Kate was right there on the surface if you needed to talk to someone so badly.

Ned Leroux

Because I need your help, not hers.

Sam Bailey

[Scoff] Well that’s new.

Ned Leroux

I’m serious. Morrison, he’s — I can’t take him on alone. I need someone else like me to challenge him, and if you help me then we might be able to—

Sam Bailey

—You’re scared.

Ned Leroux

No, no, of course I’m not. We just need to be strategic about this — make sure we take all—

Sam Bailey

—You’re scared, and you ran away. Did you even bother warning Bill and Rob about what was happening?

Ned Leroux

What are you talking about?

Sam Bailey

Bill and Rob. They moved back to Oslow a few days ago.

Wait… You didn’t know?

Ned Leroux

Well it’s not like anyone told me!

Sam Bailey

Doesn’t Bill have your number?

Ned Leroux

Not since my old phone got frozen in liquid nitrogen last year!

Sam Bailey

Oh shit… 

[Sam grunts, trying to reach his phone]

Fuck, mine’s pinned under the rubble… I can’t reach it.

Ned Leroux

We need to get out of here — we need to warn them.

[Ned tries to shift his body around the rubble, but more rubble falls from above]

[The weight increases on Sam’s legs, he fights the intense pain with difficulty]

Ned Leroux

Shit.

Sam Bailey

[Breathing hard] Well it’s not like either of us are going to die down here, are we?

Ned Leroux

Not the fucking time, Bailey.

Sam Bailey

Oh, now that is rich.

Ned Leroux

I’ll bet it is.

Sam Bailey

Look, we’ll call them as soon as we get out of this, okay? Morrison hasn’t left those tunnels in what… two months? I doubt he’s in a rush to do anything dramatic now.

Ned Leroux

You really believe that?

Sam Bailey

I mean… what choice do we have?

Ned Leroux

…fine.

[Distant noises of crumbling]

[Beat]

Sam Bailey

You… you really care about them, don’t you?

Ned Leroux

What did I tell you about poking around inside my head, Bailey? I know I can’t lie to you about this shit, but the least you could do is respect my privacy and—

Sam Bailey

—I didn’t.

[A long moment of silence]

Ned?

Ned Leroux

Still here, Bailey.

Sam Bailey

I’m sorry if that was—

Ned Leroux

Save it. 

[Silent moment]

Sam Bailey

Do you… uh… how come this… hmm.

[Beat]

Why don’t you cross the veil?

Ned Leroux

Beg pardon?

Sam Bailey

You said I can’t enter the Source because I’m injured, right? But you’re completely fine. You could get out of here, tell Kate where I am, and then we can all—

Ned Leroux

—No. 

Sam Bailey

No?

Ned Leroux

No, Bailey. Even if I wanted to, I don’t have a guide to get back across the veil at the right point. I’d be lucky if I made it out of there at all.

Sam Bailey

Couldn’t I… I don’t know, guide you back from here?

Ned Leroux

I don’t know — could you? You know how to do that?

[Beat]

Sam Bailey

…not really, no.

Ned Leroux

Then I’m not gambling my existence on a leap of faith, if it’s all the same to you. Too much of a risk.

Sam Bailey

What risk? It’s where we both came from, right? What do we have to worry about in there—

Ned Leroux

—Have you seen the power that created you in the Source? Hmm? Actually seen it, not just heard its voice?

Sam Bailey

…no, I don’t think so.

Ned Leroux

Consider yourself lucky. Last time I went into the Source, I almost did.

Sam Bailey

Why would that be unlucky?

Ned Leroux

Because one of those powers pushed us through the walls of reality, Bailey. Because we’re always connected to that power, drawn to the thing that made us but unable to reach it because it’s on the other side of the veil. If it finds you in the Source…

Sam Bailey

…you’ll be drawn back in. Stop existing as you and just become… part of that power again.

Ned Leroux

Which is why I don’t cross over unless I have no choice. Tempting as it might be.

Sam Bailey

Never?

Ned Leroux

Never by choice.

Sam Bailey

That’s a very specific answer, Ned. 

[Ned is silent; long moment]

[Groaning] And there goes the silent treatment again. Is this how you always act when you can’t get the last word, or is this just for when you can’t walk off dramatically like you did—

Ned Leroux

—Oh, shove it up your ass, Bailey.

You really want to know?

Sam Bailey

I mean… it’s not like we have anything else to talk about, do we?

Ned Leroux

…fine.

It was 1919. Petrograd. Just a few years after the October Revolution, middle of the civil war. I’d been in Russia for a while at that point — the great war was carrying on a little too long for my liking, and while there was a lot of fear there, it wasn’t fear of anyone specific… just an ever-present, creeping death. But the Bolsheviks… well, they knew how to party like it was 1793. Revolution against revolution, turn after counter-turn, civil war after rebellion all the while the rest of Europe tore itself to pieces because somebody shot someone else’s son. The tsar abdicated one year, and the next he and his whole family were shot to death in a dingy basement. It was… useful.

Sam Bailey

Useful?

Ned Leroux

A conducive environment for fear of authority — of power. I’d managed to climb the ranks in the Red Army, and by the time the

war really got going, I was a general in good standing with Moscow. I managed to stay off the front lines most of that time. I wasn’t in any real danger from the fighting, but as the year went on and the nights started getting colder, I was worried about the possibility of being caught outside after dark and freezing up. I could hardly explain that to my commanders, not without them realizing what I was. So I commandeered an old governor’s mansion in Petrograd as my base of operations during the White’s offensive. I wasn’t worried… at least, not at first. But then the White’s began taking the nearby towns and cutting off our rail lines. By the time they reached Pulkovo Heights, we only had one line to Moscow left. We were still getting supplies, sure… but it wouldn’t take much for the White’s to sever that connection and leave us stranded.

So one night, I took the heaviest coats I owned, stuffed a pair of hot stones from the fireplace into the inner pockets for warmth, and slipped out of the mansion on foot. I made it out of the city unnoticed, which was a small miracle in and of itself, although it did take longer than I’d hoped. I could feel the stones cooling inside my jacket, and I knew that if I didn’t hurry up, they would go cold and I would freeze. My body doesn’t generate its own heat, and we’d just been hit with a cold snap, so it was well below freezing. If I didn’t get far enough away and find a source of heat in time, I wouldn’t make it.

Well. I didn’t. I’m honestly surprised I made it as far as I did, but it still wasn’t enough. I got well out of Red Army territory at least, so I didn’t need to worry about being executed for desertion… but I didn’t make it past the Whites. One of their patrols found me frozen solid and curled up in a ditch just outside Yamburg. I was still wearing my uniform, of course… a stupid oversight, but I was wearing basically everything I owned to try and keep warm. Soon as they saw it I went straight from the medic tent to a shithole POW camp they’d set up in a drafty old barn… just a holding pen for the soon-to-be-executed, really. No one was supposed to stay there any longer than a few days, so they didn’t worry about the mess.

[Rubble crumbles, distant booms continue]

I was the exception, of course. Next day, I was dragged out with a few other prisoners, put against a wall with a bag over my head, and shot by firing squad. Six volleys later, and the executioners were out of bullets. I tried to play dead, but I was frozen stiff and couldn’t react convincingly enough to fool them. Two days after that, I was dragged to a makeshift gallows and hanged from the neck until dead. I was able to fake it well enough that time, but when one of the soldiers stabbed me with his bayonet to make sure, it came out covered in half-frozen tar. I could have faked a bit of blood if I’d been in better shape, but as it was my executioners just panicked and cut me down. I was back in that barn under much closer guard after that.

They probably would have kept trying to execute me until the Red Army pushed them back… if not for the rumors about me reaching a small group of British and American volunteers traveling with them. As soon as they heard, I was moved out of the barn and into the basement of one of the larger houses outside of town. At first I was elated — my room had a coal stove and was actually sealed against the elements, so I was finally able to move freely for the first time in nearly a week. There was a small bed with a horrible, itchy mattress in the corner, an uncomfortable wicker chair against the far wall, and a small, round table in the center. It wasn’t much, but compared to that barn, it felt like the Ritz.

But before I could get comfortable, one of the Americans came through the door and pulled a small, loosely-bound book out of his jacket and told me to read it. The thing stank of the Source, and I heard it whispering as I took it from his hands. He wore gloves, of course… Not too unusual for winter, but I knew he wasn’t wearing them for the cold. The book burned with malice in my hands, and I knew I was facing off with another power. It wasn’t my first… you can’t live as long as I had without running into others. But I could feel this book in a way I’d never felt before… like it was a tornado of pain and violence barely held back by the leather binding it. But I had no other choice, so I opened the book. I can’t remember what happened next, but sometimes I can still hear my own screams echoing in my head.

I’m guessing now that they were the people who sponsored Morrison… or at least, some predecessor of that group: rich kids with more money than sense, treating relics of the infinite like toys. What they were doing in Russia in the first place, I still have no idea… but they’d found a new plaything, and they were intent on seeing if they could break it.

The book was just the first. When I finally woke up, my captors returned just long enough to place a small golden statuette on the table before leaving. It wasn’t an ancient idol or anything quite so cliche… just a small statue of a horse, rearing up to charge. At first I hardly felt its presence, and wondered if someone hadn’t sold them a fake artifact without them realizing. I started pacing around the room, trying to figure out a way to use this to my advantage… then I looked back and realized the statue wasn’t on the table anymore. It was on the floor now, about two feet closer to me than when it started. I put it back on the table more out of curiosity than anything else, then went back to pacing. The next time I looked, it was four feet from the table, again in the direction I’d been pacing. I put it back, and the next time I looked… eight feet from the table. By the time I started panicking and banging on the door, it had reappeared basically at my feet, on the far side of the basement. It was only then that I realized the door wasn’t locked at all, and when I pushed it open, there were no guards outside.

I ran. Of course I did. Stupid, now that I think about it for more than a second. It was past dark and freezing outside, but I didn’t even think about the cold — I just ran. I made it out of town, out into the hills, and almost to where I knew the White’s patrols ended… and then I heard a whinny from behind me. I turned around, already knowing what would be following me… but there was nothing there. Just… frozen earth under a thin layer of old snow. Confused, I turned around to keep running… only to see the statuette now standing in my way, daring me to keep going. I stood there until I froze solid, and my captors arrived the next morning to bring me — and the artifact — back to where we both started.

I know now that at this point, Trotsky and the Red Army had arrived in Petrograd with reinforcements, but all I knew then was the feeling of panic overtaking the camp. My captors spoke in hushed voices behind the door when they thought I was asleep. The footsteps I could hear from the street outside were rushed and frantic, and in the distance, I heard sounds that might have been mistaken for thunder. I sensed that the end was coming — though what end, I didn’t know. The Whites had already tried to execute me several times, and nothing would stop them from trying again if they had to retreat quickly. They might even get lucky this time. Even if they didn’t, the Reds would capture and try me as a deserter if they found me here. But more than anything, I worried about my captors — the ones who really didn’t seem to be on any side but their own.

The answer came sooner than I would’ve liked. The door to the basement opened again on an overcast, almost moonless night. The one I guessed to be their leader — a towering American with a thick white beard I was half-convinced was fake — entered first, holding a fairly large object covered with a white cloth. He was wearing gloves as usual, and while he didn’t rush, he set the object down on the table and removed his hand from it as soon as he could. He spoke in his broken half-Russian, telling me that he appreciated all the data he and his comrades had been able to gather from these tests… and that they only had one more trial to run.

He told me to wait until they left the room, then remove the cloth from the object on the table. When I asked him why he didn’t remove it himself, he just laughed — a little longer and louder than the question warranted, honestly. He said that the thing on the table wasn’t meant for “mortal eyes.” He then assured me that they would know if I didn’t follow orders… and that I would regret it. With that, he walked out the door and left me alone with the thing on the table.

Curiosity got the better of me in the end, of course. I stood up, walked to the table, and pulled the cloth away to reveal an antique brass lamp with six or seven clear glass faces around a short wick in the center. It was plainly made, with no real decoration and almost no grime or soot on the glass… but the wick was burning, as it had been since before it entered this room. I hadn’t felt any heat through the cloth, and even if I had, the flame should have been smothered long ago. And yet it was burning — a solid black flame, tinged with blue at the edges. It didn’t flicker or move with the air around it, and the reality of my situation became horribly clear as the darkness of that flame began to shine into the basement, eating away at it inch by inch.

I stumbled back. I almost screamed, I think. The other normal lanterns around the room were still burning, and I backed up to the closest one, holding it out in front of me for protection as the dark continued to spread. It wasn’t like lighting a candle in a darkened room, where the light immediately fills the space — the darkness moved slowly across the basement, expanding to fill the darker corners before pressing in on the small circles of light, slowly consuming them. I extended the wick of the lamp in front of me as much as I could, removing the oil-stained glass to make it as bright as possible. That seemed to slow it down briefly, but as I watched, the wave of shadow swept over the other lamps, smothering them as they winked out one by one. I couldn’t see the door on the other side of the room anymore. There was a tiny slit of a window high in the wall behind me, but the world outside was nearly as dark as the basement, and I couldn’t risk abandoning the protection of the light to try and squeeze my body through that narrow opening — the thinner I stretched myself, the faster I’d freeze, and I couldn’t risk getting stuck halfway.

There was one other way out though… a way I’d always been able to escape, but hadn’t dared to try until that. I’d learned it from another Source-being centuries ago… I guess you would call him a vampire? But I didn’t hold that against him. He taught me how to slip out of the world and into the Source, along with the dangers of navigating those waters alone. I didn’t want to ignore his warnings: I was exhausted, freezing, and drained from lack of sleep and facing off with other powers. But the way I figured, I had no other choice. I checked the lamp one last time, sat down with my back against the wall, and began to meditate. A moment later, I felt my body slip away, and I found myself in the Source for the first time since I was birthed from it.

It was… different. Being in the Source, as opposed to being part of it. I was me, for one thing, and I could see and hear it like it was a physical place. It wasn’t, of course, but… you know how the mind will do anything before it admits it’s seeing the impossible.

Sam Bailey

How did you see it?

Ned Leroux

Huh?

Sam Bailey

What did the Source look like to you?

Ned Leroux

A… desert, at night. No moon, no stars… just a black sky over a pale expanse of dry, white dirt. There was a mountain range on the horizon… several, I think. Each one taller than the one before it, although they disappeared from view pretty quickly. And every time I looked back I swore they’d moved without me noticing.

Sam Bailey

Interesting… 

Ned Leroux

Anyway… I wandered around for a bit, not quite sure what I was supposed to be looking for. I knew how to get back out of the Source, and that my physical body would follow wherever I ended up, but I didn’t know how to find my way back to the right time and place. The vampire had mentioned something about anchors in the real world, but I honestly didn’t have anything like that to rely on. So I just started looking around — walking for what felt like hours in one direction or another, only to look back and see that the mountains seemed just as far away as when I left. There were no landmarks, no beacons, not even a star in the sky to navigate by. This was the infinite… and I had no way to navigate it. Even worse, the longer I stood in one place, the more difficult it became for me to hold my shape. I knew my body wasn’t actually there — it was still sitting in that basement in Yamburg as the dark closed in, frozen in time at the moment I passed through the veil. But I felt the way I sometimes feel on scorching days, when it’s too hot for my body to really keep its shape without me forcing it to. Except this wasn’t my body losing its shape, but my mind… my soul, I guess you could say. Losing hold of the thing that made me me through all those different lives. And then I heard the footsteps.

There was something behind me. I felt its presence a moment after I heard it. I turned to look, and at first I didn’t see anything… then I noticed movement near the closest mountain range. I thought maybe I was finally seeing one of those peaks moving on their own… but then I realized it was something standing in front of those mountains, and just as massive. I could barely see it through the haze and dust, but even what I could see—

Sam Bailey

I’ve seen it too. The Guardian.

Ned Leroux

I felt its next footsteps more than I heard it. The ground shook as it moved towards me, its tendrils reaching in my direction. It looked like it was hundreds of miles away, but I knew better than to trust that as a measure of safety in this place. So I ran. That was about all I really could do — run, or return to my body where it was and let that dark lantern consume me. I had a horrible feeling that wouldn’t end any better than the guardian catching me and feeding me back into the power that made me. So I just ran.

I can’t say how long I was running. Obviously. Time doesn’t work like that in the Source. But it felt like a long-ass time. My legs — or whatever actually moved me around in there — kept feeling like they were melting, losing their strength the longer I ran. But I pushed on, as fast as I could for as long as I could, with the guardian’s footsteps getting louder with every passing second. It felt like I was running for days… years, even. Like I’d always been running, and I always would be. And some small part of my mind kept asking me if I wouldn’t like to stop running… if it wouldn’t be easier to just give up and let it all fade.

I didn’t listen. I refused to listen. I’d made it too far, survived too much shit to just give up now. But eventually, it wasn’t up to me. I felt my legs give way as my strength finally gave out, and when I looked back, the Guardian was almost on top of me: arms and tendrils stretched out to grab me. In a moment, I knew it would all be over… so I made a gamble. It was a stupid risk, but when my only other options were oblivion or worse — it felt like it was worth a shot.

I pushed myself out of the Source right where I stood. No idea where or when I’d turn up, but I decided that was better than being unmade. The desert, the mountains, and the Guardian all faded away in an instant, and I found myself lying on a patch of cold, grassy earth, staring up at a night sky full of stars with a full moon overhead. My body was whole and solid once again, still wearing that Red Army uniform from before. I was alive… alive, and still me.

Took me a while to figure out where and when I was, and even longer to ditch the uniform once I did. North Dakota. 1923. The war was over, as was the usefulness of the name and face I’d been wearing. I stole some clothes off a washline and tried on a couple of faces before I found one that seemed suitably American, then started hitchhiking cross-country with no idea of my next move. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure if I’d made it back to my own universe after all, but everything seemed to match up with what I could remember. I could never really know for sure, though… at least, not until one of Morrison’s sponsors showed up in his old office. I was almost ready to kill the old fool before he mentioned Petrograd. I’m guessing my captors made it out of Yamburg after all.

[Quiet for a moment]

Sam Bailey

Why did you risk the jump?

Ned Leroux

Beg your pardon?

Sam Bailey

Why did you leave the Source like that? You could have ended up anywhere… deep space, middle of a volcano, bottom of the ocean… why risk it?

Ned Leroux

Besides the fact that the Guardian would have destroyed me if I’d stayed any longer?

Sam Bailey

Besides that.

Ned Leroux

[Sighs] Because, Bailey… for… people, like us — as someone who lacks the ability to die naturally — living is a choice. A constant, conscious choice to hold on to whatever imitation of a real life we can make surrounded by people who just… they don’t last. And we don’t make that decision unless we have a reason to.

Sam Bailey

Reason?

Ned Leroux

There has to be a reason to stay. Fear, love, power, revenge… fuck, even boredom is enough of a reason to stay. Something has to hold us to the wheel of fire longer than any human could bear. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here.

Sam Bailey

And what’s your reason?

Ned Leroux

You already know, Bailey.

Sam Bailey

Do I? You must have had… people you cared about, at some point. People you lost.

Ned Leroux

It was fear, Sam — fear of dying, fear of going back to that pre-existent sludge I used to be… fear of not being me any more. That was why I came back. That’s why I stayed.

Sam Bailey

…was?

[Crash of rubble above, the area around them begins to shake]

Sam Bailey

What the hell is that?

Ned Leroux

Hold on, I think it’s… 

[The rubble above them suddenly lifts, disappearing as a large crane lifts it away]

[Heavy machinery and voices fill the air]

Sam Bailey

Hey — HEY! Down here! Help!!

Ren Park (distantly)

There they are! Kate! Kate, we found—!

[Rubble shifts, striking the recorder]

[Click]

[Silence]

[Click]

[Sound of a heart monitor]

[Distant sounds of machinery through the medical tent walls]

Kate Sheridan

…yep, looks like it’s still working after all.

Sam Bailey

Kate, do we really need to be recording this right now—

Kate Sheridan

Yes, we do, because I want it to be on the record that if you ever try something that stupid again, I’m going to kill you.

Ned Leroux

[Small laugh] I’m not sure what chance you’d have if a collapsing building didn’t—

Kate Sheridan

—And you — zip it. I have questions for you too.

[Ned scoffs and rattles the handcuffs on his bed]

Ned Leroux

Not like I’m going anywhere.

Sam Bailey

Look, Kate — I know you’re upset, but I knew I was going to be okay. Promise.

[She steps towards him]

Kate Sheridan

Did you? Because I don’t seem to remember you ever being all that clear on the limits of your immortality, Sam.

Ren Park

She has a point.

[Sam turns towards Ren]

Sam Bailey

Oh… uh, hi Ren.

How long have you been standing there?

Ren Park

Whole time.

[Beat; Sam notices his energy]

Sam Bailey

You listened to the tape from Anna’s house, didn’t you?

Ren Park

Yeah. It was… it was a lot.

Sam Bailey

Tell me about it.

Ned Leroux

Look, can we please stop with the chit-chat and focus, people?

Sam Bailey

Shit, you’re right — Kate, Ren, something’s happening in Oslow. Morrison is… I don’t know, but it’s bad. We need to warn Bill and Rob before he tries anything, and if we can’t reach them, then we need to… to…

What?

Kate Sheridan

Sam…

[Small sigh]

Bill and Rob are gone.

[Clack]

Recording Ends

End Theme & Credits