Present Day

Rowan returned to the infirmary after escorting Charlotte back to her room to rest. He stopped a few feet before Tenley's desk where she sat staring at her journal, causing her to glance up at him as he asked, "What's wrong with her?"

Tenley leaned back in her chair. "She's dehydrated," she said with a half shrug, "and she needs to rest."

"Seems like that's all she's been doing," he confessed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Ye didn't see anything off with her examination?"

Tenley shook her head. "Was I supposed to?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "She's been acting...different..."

"In what way?"

Rowan shifted in his spot. "I'm not sure how to explain it without sounding like..." he sighed heavily, shoulders slumping forward, "like a crazy person."

Tenley held his worried expression with one of her own. "Rowan," she began, her voice gentle, "you know you can tell me anything, right?"

He nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. He lifted his gaze to meet her. He inhaled deeply. "She's a visionary."

"A what?"

"She can see the future."

Tenley blinked at him. "What? Like...Like - "

He nodded again. "Like Jiya, aye," he told her. "It's something she's had her whole life."

Tenley's eyes darted around his face. "Does..." she hesitated, "does Quinn know?"

"Aye, he knows," Rowan admitted. "She's told us some of the things she sees but..." Tenley waited for him to continue as he seemed to get distracted. He averted his gaze to his boots. "I think the visions are what's causing her to lose sleep."

"Why didn't you tell me she was your mother?"

Rowan's eyes snapped up to Tenley's. "Ah, I see she told ye." He leaned against one of the nearby exam tables. "I didn't want anyone to know."

Tenley stood from her desk, approaching him. "Why?"

"It wasn't safe," he confessed, studying Tenley's expression. "For any of us." He shrugged and added, "Still isn't."

"She said something similar about you," she told him. Rowan chuckled slightly. She hesitated but asked, "What do you know, Rowan? What aren't you telling me?"

His pained expression turned away from her as he pushed off of the exam table. "It's not safe yet," he warned. "I'm doing everything I can," he turned to face her, "I promise ye... I won't let anything happen - "

"Rowan," Tenley interrupted, her voice laced with a warning, "Don't string me along...not after everything we've been through."

"I can't," he whispered. "I can't risk losing it all..."

"There's no one here," she whispered back, motioning to the empty room.

Rowan shook his head. "That's where ye're wrong," he said, glancing toward the door. He turned back to face the doctor. He stepped up to her, wrapping her in his arms to embrace her, his lips dropping to her ear. He whispered, "We have a mole."

"What?" she whispered back, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling closer to him. "How do you know? Who is it?"

Rowan leaned his head against her forehead. "I don't know yet," he whispered. "But ye need to be careful."

"Why?"

"I think they're after ye," he replied.

Tenley's brows drew together. "You think?"

Rowan shook his head. "I know..." he swallowed, voice dropping again, "I know... because I've seen it..."

Across the bunker, Lucy curled up in her bed with 'The Lost Colony' open in her lap. She was nearing the halfway mark of the story itself but if she hadn't been carefully studying the drawings inside the book, she would have finished it by now.

The story itself was a clear fabrication of the historical facts as they knew them to be regarding Roanoke. The author inserted fictional characters within the story to tell it in a more sci-fi-based manner. So far, she had enjoyed the novel until she turned the page.

The drawing on the page, much like the others, was roughly sketched in pencil or ink from long ago. It seemed to be done from the window of a building from the colony itself, overlooking the rest of Roanoke and the thick forest surrounding it.

The forefront of the drawing showed the open window, the delicate eyelet curtains hanging on either side of the window, the small table underneath the windowsill, a small potted plant on the ledge, and a small stack of books next to a freshly baked loaf of bread - still steaming from the fire - on the table.

Outside the window, the artist sketched the town, including the passersby on the ground. In the distance, the thick woods surrounding the colony showed slight breaks in the trees. The longer Lucy stared at the image, the more details she spotted in there. The hastily sketched lines curved in places behind the trees. She followed those lines and realized she could make out not one but three Time Machines in the forest.

Flipping through the pages, Lucy didn't stop until the next drawing. This one seemed like an innocent enough sketch of one of the distant houses surrounded by trees, a small plume of smoke escaping from the stone chimney. The longer she studied the drawing, the more she noticed strange strokes of the pen within the shrubs.

Reaching over to her end table, Lucy grabbed her reading magnifying glass and brought it back to the book. Upon closer examination, she could identify the strange markings - a body. Hiding within a shrub near the house was the unmistakable shape of a body. Then she spotted another. Then another. She started to keep track of how many she found but quickly lost count.

Grabbing a pen, she started numbering the bodies she found within the picture. By the time she finished examining the drawing in its entirety, she had found 120 bodies hiding within the trees, the brush, the planks of wood along the house's porch, even within the smoke of the chimney. She sighed heavily, leaning back from the book. Her eyes bounced around her room in thought. She realized that was the same number of colonists at Roanoke.

Flipping back to where she left off in the story, Lucy began to read. This time, she was determined to read it more carefully, hoping to spot more of these hidden details. She didn't want to skip reading the story in case there was a clue hidden within the text. They had encountered this before with Poe's works.

It would be a long night.

1948

That evening when the city slept, Quinn and Rufus were escorted to the bakery with some of Abba's men. Two men were carrying the boxes of the thallium behind them. The men leading them, opened the door to the bakery, allowing the others to slip inside.

Rufus glanced over to Quinn. "Tell me you have a plan."

Quinn blinked at the man, turning his gaze to take in the bakery's surroundings. The tall warehouse-like building had boxes of flour and other supplies stacked neatly around the room, the smell of baked bread filled their nostrils.

Quinn's eyes drifted along the shelves to the floor. He could see a break in the wood planks where he suspected they had been stashing their poison. His suspicions were confirmed when the men carrying the box of thallium set it down to open the floorboards.

Quinn clicked his tongue, gaining the attention of Abba's men. "Are ye sure ye want to do this?" he asked, tilting his head at them. "If this plan fails, who do ye think will be blamed for it?"

"Shut up," one of them muttered, turning back to the opening in the floor.

"If ye're caught," Quinn continued, "it's not Abba who goes to trial for this...it'd be ye..." the men glanced up at him again, and he continued, "and it won't be Abba standing before the firing squad. It'd be ye and ye families."

The men paused their work to exchange worried glances. One of them stood up and approached Quinn. "Shut up."

"Ye know I'm right," Quinn pushed. "Ye know it's the truth because I can see the doubt lingering behind yer eyes. Ye know if there was no risk, Abba would be the one in here doing this - not ye."

"He's got a point," one of them replied, looking up to the man standing before Quinn. "If Abba knew this would succeed, he'd be here - "

The man before Quinn shouted, "Shut up!" He whirled back to Quinn. "Unless you want me to shoot you," he pointed to Quinn's chest, "you'd best shut up."

"I don't think ye have the guts," he challenged. "Ye think ye do but yer not like them...ye're a tailor, not a murderer."

Rufus inhaled sharply, shifting in his place. "We can still make a break for it..." he added. "We can just tell Abba we did it... and not risk killing ourselves in the process - "

"Shut up!" the man shouted again.

Rufus shook his head. "You don't understand," he started. "This stuff," he pointed down to the vials of metal in the boxes, "it's incredibly dangerous to handle. It will kill you... it starts with losing your hair then it will feel like you're walking on hot coals..."

The men near the crates stopped their work, listening intently to what Rufus was saying. "Hair loss?" Rufus nodded. The man near the crate stood up and said, "Amir lost his hair in clumps, Eli. Maybe we should listen - "

"Shut up," Eli told him. "Amir is sick - "

"Sick from this stuff," the man continued, backing away from the crates. "He was in charge of it before - "

Eli whirled around. "I lost my family to these monsters!" he spat. "I refuse to let them off so easily!"

"But they don't," Quinn told him. "They'll be tried and executed. Laws -"

"Laws," Eli spat. "Laws mean nothing to people like this! Abba was right. I should just kill you - "

Before Eli could get his gun aimed at them, Quinn grabbed the barrel of the rifle, pushing it away from Rufus. Eli pulled the trigger as Quinn jerked the gun away from him. Rufus hunkered down behind some crates for cover. Quinn smacked Eli across the face with the butt of the gun, turning it onto the other men.

"Don't do something ye'll regret, eh?" Quinn warned them. The men nodded, hands raised by their heads. They glanced down at the unconscious Eli. Quinn asked, "Now, answer truthfully... do ye really want to do this or would ye rather go home to ye families?"

The men glanced around at each other before the one confessed, "We want to go home."

"And what of Abba?" Quinn questioned. "Are ye planning on warning him of what took place here?"

The men shook their heads. "He trusted a German," the man told him. "How can he trust one of them but expect us to kill more?"

Quinn lowered the gun, nodding. "Godspeed."

The men kept their eyes locked onto Quinn as they shuffled out of the bakery as quickly as they could, never looking back.

Rufus padded over, glancing down at the unconscious Eli. "Did you know they would leave and let it go?"

Quinn shook his head. "No," he said, turning back to Rufus. "I took a gamble."

"Hell of a gamble," Rufus muttered.

Quinn motioned to the vials. "What do we do with all of that?"

Rufus sighed, shoulders slumping forward. "Yeah...this will be fun without the CDC's help..."

At the entrance to the prison, Flynn, Wyatt, Abba, and a couple of Abba's men were waiting for the guards to grant them access inside. Wyatt glanced over at Flynn, before turning back to look over his shoulder at the two armed men Abba brought with them. He pieced together a potential plan to overpower the two behind them if necessary and he hoped Flynn could see his intentions on his expression.

He turned back to Flynn and furrowed his brow. "Hey," Wyatt muttered. "You okay?"

Flynn blinked at him but didn't have a chance to answer. The door to the prison opened and the group was escorted inside. They followed their escort deeper into the facility.

Wyatt and Flynn carefully eyed the men they passed by, making mental notes of who appeared to be working with Abba, Rittenhouse, or simply historical people about to be caught in the crosshairs of whatever crazy scheme was set into motion.

They were led to a small room just outside the guardhouse tower. Abba turned to the escort as soon as the door closed behind them. He reached out, shaking his hand. "Are we all set?" Abba asked.

The escort nodded. "We're ready on our end," he admitted. "What about at the bakery?"

Abba eyed Wyatt and Flynn. "We'll know in a moment."

The escort turned his gaze over to the two. "Who are they?"

Before Abba could answer, a massive explosion shook the building. The lights flickered as they swung on their chains above them. Scattered shouts and screams echoed within the evening air. Another blast shattered the windows, throwing people off balance.

Bracing themselves against the wall, everyone's eyes darted outside. In the nearby warehouse, outside of the prison, bright orange flames licked the navy sky. The dark black plumes of smoke billowed and disappeared into the night. Alarms blared around the prison.

Wyatt turned to Abba. "What is this? What's going on?"

Abba's dark eyes were wide, the shock was written on his expression. His mouth fell open, lip quivering. He blinked away the confusion as he stammered, "I-I...I don't... I don't know!"

"You didn't orchestrate this?" Wyatt questioned him. Abba shook his head. "If you didn't do this, then who did?"

Abba struggled to answer. The fear on his face was enough for Wyatt to realize this was more than Abba's ambitions. Turning to face Flynn, Wyatt asked, "What do we do?"

Flynn's gaze remained locked outside of the guardhouse to the prison yard. The prisoners were becoming restless and taking down the guards on the inside. His lips pressed together for a moment as he explained, "There's a riot out there."

"What?!" Wyatt gasped, sidling up to Flynn. He glanced outside to see the prisoners overpowering the guards. Wyatt turned back to Abba. "What are you doing?"

Abba shook his head, hands raised defensively. "I swear- I ... I didn't know-"

With clenched fists, Wyatt marched closer to Abba. "What were you thinking?!" He snatched the front of Abba's shirt, holding onto him as he hissed through gritted teeth, "What is the point of all of this?"

"Wyatt!" Flynn called out to him. "Let him go."

"You can't be serious!" he retorted, glancing over his shoulder to Flynn. "He's killing innocent people - "

"This isn't his doing," Flynn told him, eyeing him briefly from the corner of his eye. "Not entirely."

Wyatt blinked at him, unable to understand the words. "What?" He glanced between Abba, who was still under his grasp, and Flynn, who remained fixated by the window. "What does that mean?"

Flynn blinked, his eyes locking onto a familiar pair outside near the distant wall of the prison. With a slight jerk of his head, he silently ordered Wyatt to join him. "I believe Rittenhouse set this up."

Wyatt tugged Abba over to the window so he could peer out of the dirty panes. His blue eyes darted around the riot taking place outside in the prison square. "What do you see?"

Flynn sucked his teeth before admitting, "I recognized the driver of the truck that nearly ran you over earlier." Wyatt's eyes glanced over to him, confusion creeping across his expression. Flynn said, "I couldn't place why I recognized him until now."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Wyatt questioned, brows drawing together in confusion.

Flynn pointed toward the far end. "That man there," he began. "Does he look familiar to you?"

Wyatt's eyes narrowed onto the short frame of a man in a black suit. His black poufy hair was sloppily slicked back. His chiseled jaw jutted out as he barked orders to some of his men, encouraging the rioters to wreak havoc. "No," Wyatt admitted, turning back to Flynn, "Should he?"

Flynn nodded, a seriousness crossing his expression as he kept staring at the man. "That's Eugen Weidmann," he explained.

Wyatt blinked at the name. "Why does his name sound familiar?"

Flynn licked his lips. "Because that's the name of the man who helped get their thallium," he began, motioning to Abba. "But more importantly, Bloodstone stopped his execution in 1939."

Wyatt jerked back as if Flynn's words slapped him in the face. His mouth parted as his mind started to piece together that mission and the details from it. "Christopher Lee?"

Flynn nodded. "And his lackeys gave you quite the beating - "

"Yeah, yeah...I remember," Wyatt nodded as he retorted. "What the hell is he doing here?" He cocked his head to the side as a thought hit him like a ton of bricks. "Wait a minute," he began, holding Flynn's gaze, "You said he was Bloodstone in 1939 but you think this was set up by Rittenhouse?"

Flynn nodded, glancing back outside. "That's because," he said, pointing again, "that's Emma talking to him now."

"You've got to be kidding me," Wyatt scoffed, glaring out of the window again. He spotted the bundled-up red hair he grew to hate.

Emma stood beside Eugen Weidmann, speaking to him and seemingly giving him orders as the riot erupted around them. Even from this distance, Flynn and Wyatt could tell Emma didn't look quite the same as the last time they had seen her. She turned to face Eugen, pointing her finger at him as if scolding him. The two noticed the large swell of her belly underneath her clothes before she stormed away from the riot.

Just as Wyatt opened his mouth to remark on what they witnessed, the windows to the guard tower behind them shattered; shards of glass rained down onto the cement floor. Bullets ricocheted into the building causing the three to cringe and dodge for cover.

"We're gonna die!" Abba shouted in a panic. "This is not what they said would happen!"

"Who?!" Wyatt shouted over the noise. "Who said this wouldn't happen?"

Abba's lips quivered from fright as he covered his head with his shaky hands. With wide eyes, he cried, "Reynolds!" Flynn and Wyatt exchanged glances.

Another massive explosion shook the guard tower, a monstrous roar engulfed their ears. They covered their heads with their hands as the building shook violently, breaking the support beams overhead, causing them to come crashing down into the room with them. The crackling of fire eating the wood grew in intensity as the smoke took over the place.

"We have to get out of here!" Flynn coughed as the heavy smoke invaded his lungs.

Wyatt's eyes narrowed through the hazy smoke. He could make out the briefest glimpse of light peeking through. He coughed hard. "This way! I think I see a way out!"

As Wyatt led them out of the inferno surrounding them, his ears caught just a second too late the crack of another support beam coming loose from the ceiling above. His eyes snapped up to see the beam swinging down towards him. Acting quickly, Wyatt dodged backward, stopping Abba from continuing forward in the process.

Flynn watched as the support beam crashed into the wall adjacent, crushing the drywall on its descent just before it covered the walkway and those standing there. He bent down, tossing fragments of burned plaster off of a terrified Abba before helping him to his feet. "Wyatt!" he called out, eyes darting about the debris, "Wyatt! Are you okay?"

Violent coughing could barely be heard beyond the chaos surrounding them. "Yeah," Wyatt replied, pushing the pieces of the drywall off of him. "I'm here..."

Flynn's eyes landed on the soldier as he carefully stood up out of the debris. His gaze dropped to the trail of crimson running down the side of Wyatt's face and neck, soaking into his clothes.

Abba gripped the tufts of hair on the sides of his