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A transcript is a retrospective written record of dialogue, and like a script (a prospective record) may include other scene information such as props or actions. In the case of a transcript of a film or television episode, ideally it is a verbatim record. Because closed-captioning is usually written separately, its text may have errors and does not necessarily reflect the true Canonical transcript.
Transcripts for Lost episodes up to and including "Enter 77" are based on the transcriptions by Lost-TV member Spooky with aid of DVR, and at times, closed captions for clarification. She and Lost-TV have generously granted us permission to share/host these transcripts at Lostpedia. Later transcripts were created by the Lostpedia community, unless stated otherwise below.
Disclaimer: This transcript is intended for educational and promotional purposes only, and may not be reproduced commercially without permission from ABC. The description contained herein represents viewers' secondhand experience of ABC's Lost.
Episode 8 - "Meet Kevin Johnson"
Directed by: Stephen Williams
[The Barracks at night. A wind is blowing leaves on the ground. Birds are chirping in the distance. Inside Ben's house Aaron is cooing in Claire's arms, and the members of Locke's camp are tensely waiting. The door opens. Locke enters pushing Miles, who has his hands tied with rope.]
LOCKE: Thank you all for your patience. I know it's taken me a few days to... figure out our next move, but I didn't want to do anything until I knew more about our situation. You deserve to know everything that I do, so... no more secrets. As you all know, Miles here and three of his people came to the Island about a week ago. So I brought him up from the boathouse to share with us exactly why they're here.
MILES: We're here for him.
HURLEY: Um, we kind of, like, knew that forever ago.
SAWYER: Well, all right then. Problem solved. How soon do we turn him over?
LOCKE: We can't turn him over.
SAWYER: And why the hell not?
BEN: Because once they have me, their orders are to kill everyone else on the Island.
CLAIRE: Wait. So... what, he's one of us now? You're--you're gonna protect him? He tried to kill you, John.
HURLEY: Yeah. He won't even tell us who his spy on the boat is.
BEN: It's Michael.
BEN: My spy on the freighter is Michael.
SAWYER: I'm sorry. You mean the same guy that killed two women in cold blood to set this little bastard free? And then sold all of us out so he could get off the island? That Michael?
LOCKE: Yes, James. [Sighs] That Michael.
[The Freighter at night. Sayid and Desmond are sleeping in their berths. An alarm starts to blare. Desmond and Sayid wake up and run onto the deck. People are watching as Captain Gault is beating up two of his crew members. The ships tender is leaning against the freighter's railings.]
GAULT: The rules of desertion... still apply to everyone.
[He punches the last man twice.]
GAULT: [Talking to the group at large.] Nobody leaves this ship without my say-so! I'm not beating these men to scare you! I beat them to save your lives! Do you remember what happened to the last two men who took off in this boat?
[Indicates to the tender.]
GAULT: You remember what happened to Minkowski? As soon as we get the engines fixed, we're back in the hunt. In the meantime, everybody just hold on. Johnson!
MICHAEL: Yes, sir.
[Sayid looks intently toward Michael/Johnson.]
GAULT: Clean this mess up.
MICHAEL: Yes, sir.
[The crew starts moving about, talking indistinctly. Michael starts to walk. The two beat-up men get escorted through the door back to the berths. The captain starts climbing up the stairs to his quarters. Sayid walks toward Michael.]
SAYID: Hello, Michael.
MICHAEL: [In a lowered voice.] Not now, man. [He tries to continue walking.]
SAYID: Yes. Right now.
[The captain looks down on the deck for a moment.]
SAYID: Why are you on this boat?
MICHAEL: I'm here to die.
[Michael walks away from Sayid.]
[The Barracks at night. Locke is walking away from Ben's house, pushing Miles along. Sawyer runs after them.]
[Locke and Miles turn around.]
SAWYER: That's a nice meetin', John, but I thought there wasn't gonna be more secrets.
JOHN: What are you talking about?
SAWYER: I'm talking about the 3 million bucks your buddy here asked for.
JOHN: Yeah. Miles offered his loyalty in exchange for the money. But as I haven't seen a bank on the island, I didn't think it worth mentioning.
SAWYER: Somethin' funny?
MILES: Linus will find a way to get it.
SAWYER: And how will he do that?
MILES: He wants to survive. And considering a week ago you had a gun to his head, and tonight he's eating pound cake... I'd say he's a guy who gets what he wants.
[Inside Ben's house. People are leaving. Alex and Karl are with Claire, playing with Aaron. Karl has his arm around Alex's waist. Ben is watching them. Alex and Claire are giggling. Aaron is cooing.]
CLAIRE: It's fine.
KARL: Okay, thanks.
CLAIRE: Bye, guys.
[Claire leaves. Alex and Karl start to leave.]
[Alex and Karl turn around. Rousseau comes nearer to hear the conversation.]
BEN: May I have a word with you?
ROUSSEAU: I think we've heard enough from you for one night.
BEN: I'm sorry, you're just gonna have to listen to a little more.
ALEX: It's okay. What do you want?
[Ben takes a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolds it.]
BEN: This is a map to the Temple.
[Alex takes the map.]
BEN: It's a sanctuary. It may be the last safe place on this island.
KARL: How come we don't know about this?
BEN: Well, it wouldn't be a sanctuary if I told everyone, would it? The rest of our people are already there. If you leave now, you can get there in a day and a half.
KARL: If it's safe, why don't we all go — Hurley, Claire, the baby?
BEN: Because the Temple's not for them, Karl. It's only for us. These people that are coming — they know who I am, Alex. They're here to capture me. They'll kill anybody that gets in their way. If they knew who you were, that you were my daughter, they would use you to get to me. We don't have much time.
KARL: Maybe he's right.
ROUSSEAU: I agree. We should go.
ALEX: These people — you said they're dangerous. More dangerous than you?
BEN: Yes. But your mother will protect you. [Lowers voice] Okay, now go.
[Alex, Karl and Rousseau leave.]
[The freighter at morning. Desmond is looking out over the ocean. Sayid is nearby talking to a crew-member.]
SAYID: Where is he?
CREW-MEMBER: Engine room.
SAYID: You sure?
[The crew-member leaves. Sayid moves over to Desmond.]
SAYID: [In a lowered voice] He's in the engine room.
[Inside the engine room. Michael and Jeff are working on the engine.]
MICHAEL: I don't understand, It should be working.
JEFF: Gaskets are all corroded.
[Sayid and Desmond walk down the stairs into the room.]
MICHAEL: Can I help you?
SAYID: The captain sent us down to help with the repairs.
MICHAEL: Oh, thanks. We're okay. Hey, Jeff, man, you know what? We need a pressure valve. You mind grabbing one from the, uh, supply room?
JEFF: Not at all.
MICHAEL: You shouldn't be here.
[Sayid slams Michael against the wall.]
MICHAEL: Hey! Uhh! Aah!
DESMOND: Hey Sayid, what are you doing?
SAYID: Why are you here?
MICHAEL: Listen, if they see me talking to you—
SAYID: Then talk quickly!
MICHAEL: You won't understand it!
SAYID: I'll understand perfectly, Michael. You just start from the beginning and explain how you came to be on this boat.
[Flashback - Michael is in a rundown apartment in New York City's Financial District. A faucet is leaking. A woman and man are arguing indistinctly in the distance. Michael is sitting on a chair writing on a notepad. A car alarm sounds in the distance. Michael looks toward a picture of him with baby Walt. He tears out the note.]
[Manhattan at night. Michael is walking down the street. Cars are honking. Deep bass music is playing in the distance. He gets into his car and turns the key. The Mama Cass song "It's Getting Better" plays on the radio.]
[Getting better every day.]
[Better every day.]
[Michael turns the volume up and pins the note to his jacket.]
[I don't feel all turned on.]
[I just feel A...]
[He revs the engine and the tires squeal.]
[And it's not hard to see.]
[That it isn't half.]
[The car does a sharp turn and the tires squeal.]
[Cause it's getting better.]
[Warm and wilder.]
MICHAEL: I'm sorry [He steps hard on the gas pedal.]
[Getting better every day.]
[Better every day.]
[The car crashes into a storage container.There is crackling. The engine is hissing. The radio is still working.]
[But it's getting better.]
[There are sirens wailing in the distance.]
[Warm and wilder.]
[Getting better every day.]
[A ships horn blows.]
[Better every day.]
[Michael opens his eyes. A monitor beeps steadily.]
[Steady beeping continues.]
[A nurse enters the room.]
LIBBY: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you, Mr. Dawson.
MICHAEL: It's... what happened to me?
LIBBY: You were in a car accident. It's a miracle you're alive.
MICHAEL: How badly am I hurt?
LIBBY: Shh. You just need to rest now.
[Ghostly voices whispering.]
LIBBY: It's a cold night.
[Michael finally realizes the nurse is Libby.]
LIBBY: I brought you some extra blankets.
[He awakes from his dream.]
[Woman speaking indistinctly over P.A.]
NURSE: Ah. Let's get some light in here. Now I thought I heard someone shout, and something tells me it wasn't him. You okay? [Sighs] You're lucky to be alive. E.M.T. say they found you in a wrecked car with a note pinned to your chest. You didn't have any I.D. on you. Want to tell me your name? [sighs] Yeah, I didn't think so. You want me to call Walt?
MICHAEL: [Pauses] What?
NURSE: The note pinned to your chest. It was written to "Walt." You want me to call him?
MICHAEL: [Whispers] No.
NURSE: Okay, then.
[Door opens and shuts.]
[Sometime later, Michael walks up to the door of a house. We can see a Christmas tree through the window. He knocks twice before an elderly woman opens the door.]
MICHAEL: Hey, ma.
[Dog barking in distance.]
MICHAEL: Can I... come in?
[The woman comes out and shuts the door behind her.]
MICHAEL'S MOTHER: No. You know the answer to that.
MICHAEL: I wanna see him.
MICHAEL'S MOTHER: No.
MICHAEL: Just let me talk—
MICHAEL'S MOTHER: I don't know what you said to that boy, but whatever it was, he doesn't want to see you.
MICHAEL: Please, ma. He's my son. I have a right—
MICHAEL'S MOTHER: I thought you were dead! They said your plane crashed in the middle of the ocean, but you show up here fine and dandy, only I can't tell anybody about you or Walt, can't call you by your real names. He barely talks to me, but he does wake up screaming in the middle of the night, and I'm the one that's got to tell him it's gonna be okay. So until you can explain to me where you were for over two months and what happened... you gave up your rights.
[Michael starts to leave but then turns back.]
MICHAEL: Will you, uh... will you tell him I love him?
MICHAEL'S MOTHER: Yeah.
[She goes inside. Michael walks away, but as he turns his head back, he can see Walt looking at him from the upstairs window. They make eye contact but only briefly before Walt turns around.]
[Later, Michael opens the door to a pawn shop. Door bells jingle, siren wailing in distance.]
GUS: What can I do for ya?
MICHAEL: How much can I get for that?
GUS: Why is there Chinese writing all over it?
MICHAEL: It's Korean, man — the guy who gave it to me.
GUS: You don't look like you speak Korean. I'll give you $300 for it.
MICHAEL: I'm not looking for money.
GUS: What are you looking for?
MICHAEL: I want a gun. I want a gun with bullets.
[Soon after, Michael goes in an alley. A siren wails in the distance. Michael takes out the bullets and begins to load the gun.]
MICHAEL: [whispering] Come on. Let's just get this done. Help me just get this done.
[The revolver spins; he exhales deeply and then presses the gun to the bottom of his chin.]
MAN: Excuse me, sir. You got the time?
MICHAEL: [Grunts] No, man. No.
MAN: Come on, Michael.
[The man is revealed to be Tom Friendly.]
TOM: How about for an old friend?
[In the dirty city alley, a car alarm wails and horns honk in the distance. Tom stands over Michael wearing a black trenchcoat.]
TOM: Manhattan, huh? We let you leave one island, you just go to another one.
[Michael gets up and points his gun at Tom, firing. But he's at too close range and Tom steps inside his arm. The gun discharges into the air past Tom's head. Tom wrests the gun from Michael's hand and elbows him in the face, knocking him backwards.]
TOM: Will you just relax? I just came here to--ooh!
[Michael has recovered, assumed a boxing stance, and landed a left jab and a right hook to Tom's face.]
[Tom gives Michael's jaw a right uppercut, sending Michael to the pavement. He lands with a grunt.]
TOM: Now are you ready to talk? Like adults?
MICHAEL: [Panting] Yeah.
[Tom offers his hand to help Michael up. Michael takes it to get up, but comes up at Tom with a discarded wine bottle in his left hand, hitting Tom over the head. Tom reels back with a grunt. Michael smashes the bottle into a dumpster and transfers the bottle to his right hand, threatening Tom's jugular with a jagged edge; Tom pulls the revolver on Michael and cocks it.]
[Michael drops the bottle and it shatters on the ground. Michael pulls the revolver close to his forehead.]
MICHAEL: Do it. Go ahead, do it!
TOM: [Yanking the gun away] You'd like that, wouldn't you?
MICHAEL: How do you find me?
TOM: We're the ones who sent you home, Michael. Did you honestly think we weren't gonna keep tabs?
MICHAEL: What do you want?
TOM: Your help.
MICHAEL: Why would I help the son of a bitch who kidnapped my son?
TOM: We gave him back to you in one piece, Mike, you're the one who lost him. You told him, didn't you? You couldn't carry the guilt of what you did to those two women all by yourself, so you shared it with a 10-year-old kid. Is that why you want to kill yourself, Michael? Because that's the way he looks at you now? Because he knows you're a murderer?
MICHAEL: Go away!
[Michael turns to walk away.]
TOM: I got some bad news for you, amigo. You can't kill yourself. The Island won't let you!
MICHAEL: [Panting] What'd you say?
TOM: No matter how bad you want to, no matter how many different ways you try, it won't happen.
[Tom hands the revolver back to Michael.]
TOM: Give it a shot if you don't believe me. You got more work to do, Mike. When you figure that out, I'm in the penthouse at the Hotel Earle.
[A siren wails as Tom walks away.]
[In Michael's studio apartment, a quiz show plays on an old Panasonic TV. Two teams of three players sit at lecterns on the left and right, while a game show host enters from doors in the back middle.]
MALE ANNOUNCER: Let's give a warm Hollywood welcome to your host...
[Cheers and applause. Michael sits on a bed playing with the gun in his hands. On the table in front of him sit dirty dishes and a framed photograph showing Michael holding Walt as a toddler. As the game show continues to play on TV, Michael puts the revolver to his temple and begins to squeeze the trigger.]
GAME SHOW HOST: ...our jump-ball category... literature. I hope you stayed awake during high school English. All right...
MICHAEL: [Quietly squealing] Ahh...
[The hammer pulls back and snaps forward with a click, but the gun does not fire. Michael grunts, both scared and shocked.]
GAME SHOW HOST: ...Slaughterhouse-Five?
[A bell chimes on the game show as a player rings in. Michael opens the revolver and checks that it is still fully-loaded. It is.]
FEMALE CONTESTANT: Um, is it Kurt Vonnegut?
[Cheers and applause. Michael closes the revolver and puts the gun to his temple again.]
GAME SHOW HOST: Correct! And triple your puzzle points in the next round--can you give us the name of the book's protagonist?
MAN: We interrupt this program for a news bulletin.
[Michael braces for squeezing the trigger a second time when the TV catches his attention.]
FEMALE ANCHOR: The wreckage of Oceanic Flight 815 has been found. This footage confirms the airplane did, in fact, crash at sea.
[The TV shows the underwater ROV footage of the wreckage. Michael puts the gun down and begins watching intently.]
FEMALE ANCHOR: At these tremendous depths, there is little hope of recovering any remains. Investigators are equally skeptical about the chances of retrieving Oceanic 815's black box. The real story behind what happened to this fateful airliner may have been lost along with the 324 passengers onboard. But even with this tragic discovery, the victims' families were hoping today...
[Michael sits in shock at what he is hearing.]
[Michael knocks on a door labeled "THE HOTEL EARLE - PENTHOUSE." Tom opens the door and smiles.]
TOM: I didn't expect you that fast.
[He waves Michael inside. Tom chuckles as they walk inside. Another man, stylishly dressed with the top few buttons of his shirt open, hands Tom a glass of bubbly. A tempting fruit plate sits on a table nearby.]
ARTURO: Is this the guy who hit you with the champagne bottle?
TOM: Yeah, but I had it comin'. [Chuckles]
TOM: Arturo, Michael and I have some business we have to attend to. Would you get some air?
ARTURO: Of course.
[Arturo leans into Tom and they kiss on the cheek.]
TOM: Help yourself to the chow.
[The door opens as Arturo steps out.]
TOM: Don't make it to the mainland too often—
[The door shuts behind Arturo.]
TOM: —so when I do, I like to indulge myself.
[Tom bites into a grape.]
MICHAEL: So you people can just... come and go?
TOM: Some of us. You want a drink?
MICHAEL: What I want is for you to tell me what my plane is doing at the bottom of the ocean.
TOM: [Chuckles] That's not your plane. It's a phony. A man named Widmore put it down there, and he staged the whole wreck.
MICHAEL: Staged? Why would he stage a--
TOM: Because he doesn't want anyone else finding where the real plane ended up... except for him.
MICHAEL: I'm supposed to believe this?
TOM: [Stepping closer to Michael] Did the bullet bounce off your skull, or did the gun just jam on you?
MICHAEL: Prove it.
MICHAEL: Prove that this guy, Widmore, did what you say he did. Prove it.
[Tom motions Michael over. He picks up a file and tosses it down to Michael, who leafs through the documentary evidence while sitting in a chair: a photo of dug-up graves, a receipt...]
TOM: That's the cemetery in Thailand where Widmore dug up the 300-odd corpses he needed. And the purchase order for the old 777 he bought through a shell company, and the shipping logs for the freighter he used to drop the whole mess down a trench deep enough to guarantee that no remains are ever gonna be identified. Do you have any idea what it would cost to bring those bodies up?
MICHAEL: Whatchyou want from me, man?
TOM: In a few days, a freighter is porting in Fiji. It's Widmore's boat. We have reason to believe he's finally found the coordinates of the Island, and he's heading right for it. So congratulations, Michael. Your shore leave is over. You just got a job on that boat. Meet Kevin Johnson.
[Tom sits down and tosses a U.S. passport to Michael and it drops on the table in front of him. Michael pages through it. In his new passport photo, he's smiling a big toothy grin.]
TOM: You're joining the crew in Fiji as a deckhand.
MICHAEL: You want me to go undercover? Why the hell would I go back to work for you people?
TOM: Because if Widmore finds the Island, it's good night for everybody on it. He'll kill them all without thinking twice. You wanna redeem yourself for what you did? This is your only chance. You can save all their lives.
MICHAEL: No. I can't. I can't go back to that island.
[Michael gets up and starts to leave.]
TOM: I didn't say you were going back to the Island. You're not going on that boat so you can swab decks, Michael.
[Michael turns around.]
TOM: You're going so you can kill everyone onboard.
[In Fiji, native drumbeats play on a busy wharf street. An old green bus drives by, piled with luggage. Men carry baskets and women staff market stalls. Horns honk, and men speak a Pacific Island language. A forklift beeps. Seamen align ropes in preparation for departure of the freighter Kahana. A taxicab drives up and Michael steps out, slinging a duffel bag over his shoulder and donning a black ballcap. Minkowski, standing on the docks and wearing sunglasses, turns around and calls out to Michael.]
MINKOWSKI: Hey. You our engineer?
MICHAEL: Nah. Just a deckhand.
[Minkowski takes off his sunglasses.]
MINKOWSKI: Well, we're all equals on this boat... as long as you play decent hold'em. I'm George... Minkowski.
[He shakes Michael's hand.]
MICHAEL: Kevin Johnson.
MINKOWSKI: Ah, nice to meet you, Kevin. All right, well, why don't you go check in with Naomi over there? And, uh, I'll be seeing you. Welcome.
[Naomi finishes up checking in another crewmember coming aboard.]
NAOMI: Okay. You're good to go. Thanks.
[The other crewmember boards the ship. Michael steps up.]
MICHAEL: Uh... I'm reporting for duty. Kevin Johnson.
[Naomi checks her manifest.]
NAOMI: Naomi Dorrit. Pleasure. So you're from the States, yeah?
MICHAEL: New York.
NAOMI: Yeah, I could tell from the accent.
NAOMI: How'd you guess? You can head onboard. Oh, uh, one of these crates was delivered for you.
[Naomi indicates a medium-sized wooden crate with "KEVIN JOHNSON" stenciled across it. It's locked with a padlock.]
NAOMI: I'll have it delivered to your berth?
MICHAEL: Yeah. Thanks.
NAOMI: Welcome aboard, Kevin.
[Men are calling orders around the ship as Michael steps aboard. Someone calls to him.]
MILES: Your name isn't Kevin.
[It's Miles Straume, the spiritualist. He's sitting on a pile of crates on the deck, nonchalantly eating an orange, peeling it with a knife. He smiles.]
MILES: Don't worry. Eighty percent of the people on this boat are lying about something. Orange?
MICHAEL: No, thanks.
[Michael's cell phone rings. He unfolds it with a sigh and answers.]
TOM: How was your trip?
[On the other end, Tom sits in his penthouse suite wearing a purple shirt, his feet up on the coffee table.]
TOM: I figure flying can't be too much fun for you.
MICHAEL: What do you want?
TOM: You get your care package?
TOM: Wait a day or two until you're out in the open sea, then you're good to go.
[Michael watches as Naomi admits another crewmember.]
NAOMI: You can stow your gear downstairs, all right? Welcome aboard, Keamy.
TOM: Oh, you met some of 'em now. Got some names and faces, and you're gettin' cold feet, huh?
MICHAEL: Yeah, actually, I am.
TOM: Well, here are a few more names for ya--Sun, Sawyer, Jack, Claire, her baby. And the only way you're gonna save their lives is if you man up and get on that boat. Or maybe you wanna come back and explain to your kid how you let all of them die, too. It's game time. Are you in or out?
MICHAEL: [Pauses] I'm in.
TOM: Good, then ditch your phone and go do your job.
[Line clicks, dial tone. Michael shuts his cell phone and tosses it overboard.]
[The Kahana motors through an endless expanse of ocean as the sun dips in the sky. Michael leans over a railing on the deck, studying the horizon. He overhears an argument between Naomi and Frank.]
NAOMI: Sorry, Frank, but I'm going first and that's all there is to it.
FRANK: No offense, but I was flying these things when you were still in grade school. If anybody's gotta go first, it should be me.
NAOMI: Yeah, I need you here to transport the science team, Frank.
FRANK: What the hell are you gonna be doing?
NAOMI: That's need-to-know. You don't.
[She turns and steps through a central door, shutting it behind her. Frank walks up to Michael, pulling the remnants of a stogie from the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt.]
FRANK: [Chuckling] So much for the fairer sex, huh?
[Michael fakes a chuckle. Frank extends his hand.]
FRANK: Frank Lapidus, chopper pilot.
MICHAEL: Kevin Johnson. Deckhand.
FRANK: So what's your story, Kevin?
FRANK: How'd you end up on this tub?
MICHAEL: Um... looking for a little adventure.
FRANK: Ah, adventure. Yeah. Well, [whispers] how do you like this for adventure? You ever hear about Oceanic 815?
MICHAEL: [Pauses] Yeah.
FRANK: What would you say if I told you the plane they found in that trench wasn't Oceanic 815?
MICHAEL: Then what is it?
FRANK: You know those nuts that think the moon landing was faked? Well, this is like that... only real. That's why I signed up for this trip, because the owner of this boat believes me. Charles Widmore. He believes that 815 is still out there somewhere. (Whispering) I mean, can you imagine what would happen... if we found some of those people alive?
[Frank walks away.]
[Sitting on a bunk in his berth at night, Michael flips a key in his hand while he looks at the locked crate sitting on a table.]
[Midday, on the deck of the Kahana, Michael wipes a wall with a wet rag and bucket of soapy water. He turns when he hears a shout and the sound of automatic fire.]
[Keamy fires a machine gun at a clay pigeon as it soars toward the horizon.]
[The other crew members cheer, howl and laugh.]
[Gunfire, cheers and laughter.]
[He misses the third pigeon.]
KEAMY: Another clip.
[Someone hands him one. He reloads his weapon.]
CREWMAN: Good job.
[Gunfire. This time he gets the pigeon.]
KEAMY: Kill shot!
[Michael has approached. Keamy turns toward him.]
MICHAEL: What are you guys doing?
KEAMY: What's it look like we're doing? We're shooting things. Pull!
[Keamy fires again. Crewmen laugh. Shell casings clatter on the deck.]
MICHAEL: I, uh... thought we were going on a rescue mission.
[Keamy turns to look at the other men. They laugh.]
KEAMY: Uh... don't you have something to mop up?
[He cocks the rifle.]
CREWMAN: Come on. Let's go.
[Michael walks away.]
KEAMY: [In the distance] Pull!
[Gunfire in the distance.]
[Back in his berth, Michael opens the crate and extracts a carrying case. He hears Keamy continue to shout "Pull!" from outside. Michael takes the case down a corridor to the engine room, opening the door with a squeak and closing it with a clank. He nervously sets the case down next to a large pipe labeled "FUEL LINE ONE - WARNING - NO OPEN FLAMES", extracts the key from his pocket, and inserts the key into the case, and pops it open. Inside is a toolkit filled with pliers and screwdrivers and the like. Kevin removes the false bottom that the toolkit is mounted on to reveal a plastic explosives bomb with detonator circuitry, a numbered keypad, and a large red execute button. He whispers to himself as he punches in a numbered code on the keypad. Each press elicits a beep.]
MICHAEL: [Whispering] You can do this, man. You can do this. 7... 1... 7-7-6. Okay. Okay.
[Michael holds his finger over the execute button when suddenly he hears music--Mama Cass Elliot's "It's Getting Better". He whirls around.]
CASS ELLIOT: [Music playing] ...but it's getting better...
[Michael hears ghostly voices whispering. He looks around. No one's there. He's alone. He gasps. Just as he turns back to the button, he hears a woman's voice.]
LIBBY: Don't do it, Michael.
[Michael gasps and turns his head to see Libby standing there wearing a green T-shirt and blue jeans, the same clothes she was wearing when he shot her. He whirls around, but the next instant, there's no one there. He turns back to the bomb. Walks up to it. After some seconds of hesitation, he presses EXECUTE. The timer counts down from 15. Rapid beeping starts.]
MICHAEL: [Closing his eyes] I love you, Walt.
[The beeping continues. When the timer reaches zero, the beeping stops. A small flag pops up from the right side of the bomb. Michael unclenches his eyes. He pulls off a small roll of paper from the flag. It reads, in large black block letters: "NOT YET."]
[Michael sits alone in his cabin on the freighter, bouncing a tennis ball up against the wall. A knock comes on the door. It opens. It's Minkowski.]
MINKOWSKI: What, are you going Nicholson on us?
MINKOWSKI: You know, Jack Nicholson in The Shining, when he's bouncing that ball against the wall? Next thing you know, you're gonna go after your wife with an ax.
MICHAEL: I'm not married, man.
[Minkowski catches the ball on the next bounce and tosses it in his hand.]
MINKOWSKI: Well, I'm sorry to interrupt, but you got a call.
MICHAEL: A call?
MINKOWSKI: Yeah. From the mainland. They patched it through to the radio room.
MICHAEL: It's gotta be a mistake, man. Nobody even knows I'm here.
MINKOWSKI: Well, you're the only Kevin Johnson onboard, so somebody knows you're here. Said he really needs to talk to you. His name's Walt.
[Minkowski leads Michael into the radio room on the freighter. He goes over to the communications console and hands Michael a headset.]
MINKOWSKI: Yeah, here you go.
MICHAEL: Hey, uh ... it's kind of personal. Mind if I take this alone?
MINKOWSKI: Take your time, Kev. You just push this yellow button (indicates a switch from "Channel A" to "Channel B") and, uh, turn this knob on the console [indicates a frequency selection knob].
MICHAEL: Got it. Okay.
[Minkowski leaves. The instant the door shuts behind him, Michael presses the switch and turns the knob.]
[The voice is not Walt's, but it's familiar.]
BEN: I'm so sorry, Michael, but he's still in New York.
[A wheelchair-bound Ben speaks into a ham radio microphone from within his secret closet in his house in the Barracks.]
BEN: So I'm afraid you're stuck with me. Michael? Are you still there?
MICHAEL: You put me on this boat, talked me into blowing it up, and when I push the damn button, a flag pops up.
BEN: You actually activated the bomb?
MICHAEL: [Shouts] It's not a bomb! It's a... [catches himself] it's a joke.
BEN: There are people on your boat who are innocent. They have no idea that the man they work for is a monster, a killer without conscience or a greater purpose. I had to show you the difference between him and me. When I'm at war, I'll do what I need to do to win, but I will not kill innocent people.
MICHAEL: Ana Lucia and Libby... they were innocent.
BEN: You killed them, Michael. No one asked you to... I don't blame you, Michael. We did have your boy. And what wouldn't a man do for his son?
MICHAEL: What do you want... from me?
BEN: I want you to compile a list of names... every person on your boat. When I call again, you'll give me that list. Then you will disable the radio room you're sitting in. When the crew is disoriented by their lack of communication, you'll take out the engines too. That way, the boat can never get to this island, and your friends will be safe. Will you do that for me, Michael?
BEN: Then consider yourself one of the good guys.
[Present - Sayid and Desmond have been listening to Michael's story in the engine room of the Kahana.]
SAYID: So you're telling me... that you're working for Benjamin Linus?
MICHAEL: Yeah. Yeah, that's what I'm telling you.
[Sayid approaches Michael nonchalantly, as if to hug him, then he grabs Michael, spins him around, and pins his right arm behind his back.]
MICHAEL: Hey! Aah!
DESMOND: Hey, Sayid.
MICHAEL: Hold it! Uhh! Let me go! What are you doing?!
SAYID: Shut your mouth!
[Sayid marches him through the door, down a hallway, and into the captain's stateroom. Desmond follows.]
GAULT: What the hell is this?
SAYID: This man is not who you think he is. He was a passenger on Oceanic Flight 8-1-5. I spent two months with him on the island before he betrayed us. This is the man who sabotaged your radio room. He destroyed the ship's engine, and his name isn't Kevin Johnson. It's Michael Dawson, and he's a traitor.
[Leaves rustle as Rousseau leads Alex and Karl through a tall grassy area on the Island.]
ROUSSEAU: We stop here and drink. Two minutes, then we keep moving.
[Alex and Karl sit on a log and take out bottles of water. Rousseau consults the map.]
ALEX: What's wrong?
KARL: I don't know. I just have a bad feeling about this. What if your dad is... playing us?
ALEX: Look, I don't like taking orders from my dad any more than you do. But I know he doesn't want me to get hurt.
KARL: Well, at least we've got something in common.
ALEX: I promise not to tell if you won't.
[She laughs. They hear a pop-woosh sound. Then another, and Karl's water bottle springs a leak right in his hand. A third pop-whoosh, and another shot hits Karl's chest. He jerks and falls forward with a soft cry.]
[He falls to the ground. Alex kneels down to pick him up.]
ALEX: [Gasping] Karl?
ALEX: Karl! Karl, Karl! No!
ROUSSEAU: Come on.
ALEX: No! No!
ROUSSEAU: Come on! He's gone.
ALEX: [Crying] Karl!
[Rousseau pulls Alex up, and they cover their heads, trying to get to cover at the base of a palm tree. As they move, bullets whizz by, striking trees.]
ALEX: No! No, no, We have to get Karl. Karl!
ROUSSEAU: He's gone.
ROUSSEAU: He's gone! He's gone! Listen to me.
ALEX: No. [Panting]
ROUSSEAU: I need you to take my hand. On the count of three, we're going to run.
ROUSSEAU: Can you do that with me? I love you. I love you very much, Alexandra.
[Rousseau brushes Alex's hair out of her face, and whispers.]
ROUSSEAU: Are you ready?
[Alex nods and gasps.]
[Rousseau stops whispering and gets louder.]
[Rousseau takes her daughter's hand and turns, getting up.]
[Just as Rousseau jumps up, a gunshot sounds and a bullet whizzes into her chest, just below her right breast. She grunts and falls forward with a thud. Alex returns to behind the palm tree cover, sitting, gasping. In the tall grass in front of her, rustling: someone's running there. She's surrounded. Alex gets up and stands in the open with her hands up, and shouts.]
ALEX: Wait! Wait! Don't! I'm Ben's daughter! I'm his daughter!