American Horror Story (2011–…): Season 8, Episode 1 - The End - full transcript
After a nuclear attack, a select few must survive in a bunker dubbed Outpost Three ruled by a tyrannical matriarch.
(electricity crackles)
I'm pretty big on respect,
so if you respect me,
I respect you.
Oh!
FX presents...
American Horror Story:
Apocalypse.
(blows)
Fini. How much do you love?
Am I the first one
to get this cut?
Because I'm working on becoming
an Instagram influencer,
and I refuse to show
my full ass crack,
so my hairstyle
has to be on point.
Who cares how many followers
you have? You're a billionaire.
That's my father's money.
I need to make something
of myself.
You did.
You're the next Chris McMillan.
Mm.
Take a sip so we can post.
Cold-pressed juice is trending
super hard right now.
You're gonna get, like,
10,000 likes in ten minutes.
(camera clicks)
Are you trying
to fucking poison me?
This tastes like turtle shit.
You're supposed to be
my personal assistant, Mallory.
Do you even know me?
Could you just go
and get me a macchiato
so I can rinse this taste out
of my mouth?
(mouths)
(tires squealing)
Are the Kardashians filming
out there?
(alert tone chiming)
-MR. GALLANT: What the fuck?
-No.
It's bullshit. It's a hoax.
It's like that time in Hawaii.
They're gonna text in, like,
a minute with a retraction.
(phone rings)
Oh. Hi, Daddy.
How's Hong Kong?
-Coco, listen to me.
-Oh, you know what?
We have a terrible connection.
-I'll call you after I'm done...
-Just shut up and listen.
The missile alert is real.
In less than an hour,
Los Angeles is going to be
an empty crater.
Wait, Daddy, you're scaring me.
You can still be safe.
There are four spots reserved
for our family, but your mother
and brother are here with me,
and we're not going to make it.
A car is coming.
It'll take you
to Santa Monica Airport.
A private jet is waiting,
so go. So go.
-Now.
-What are you talking about?
Your mother and I
love you very much.
Wish we could be together again,
but it's too late.
Just try to be happy, baby.
-MR. GALLANT: Oh, my God.
-(tires screech)
That's the only thing
that matters.
-(explosion)
-(Coco gasps)
No! No, no, no!
-Wait, was that real?
-(horn honking)
We got to go, Coco.
Come on. Come on.
-Come on, Coco.
-Okay.
-(alert tone chiming)
-(horn honking)
ANCHOR (on TV): Widespread panic
is being reported
in major cities
around the country.
We can now confirm
that a ballistic missile alert
was texted to public
approximately 3:00 p.m.
-Pacific Standard Time.
-(phone buzzing)
The Pentagon
has not yet released a statement
and there has been no word
from the White House.
Babe, are you seeing this?
-Brock, where are you?
-What do you mean? I'm at work.
I just heard
a fucking amazing pitch.
Free Willy
as a six-part limited series.
-It's kind of genius.
-(loud thud)
Brock, I love you. I don't want
to live without you.
Get to Santa Monica Airport.
-There's a plane waiting for us.
-What?
-(tires squealing)
-(horn honks)
-(screams)
-BROCK: Coco?
(phone beeping)
ANCHOR:
WBN can now confirm
Hong Kong, London,
numerous sites in the Baltics
and Moscow have all been hit
and destroyed
by nuclear ICBMs.
This is it,
ladies and gentlemen.
I can't believe
we actually did it.
We have just been notified
to evacuate.
I'm not gonna make it home.
So if my children
are watching this...
...Daddy loves you very much.
(alert tone chiming)
(air raid siren blaring)
(blaring continues)
Ugh. Esmeralda,
the champagne's burnt again.
You left it
in the freezer too long.
Where are you going?
You know I pay you
for a ten-hour day.
I have to go home, Mrs. Evie.
It's the end of the world.
Nana, I've been trying
to call you.
When he ran MGM,
your grandfather--
God rest his soul--
would never return calls
until the following day.
All of the stars
and all of the agents
would have to go
and see him in person
if they wanted to get...
What are you doing?
The government sent a warning.
-Missiles are coming.
-So is global warming. Well.
It's probably fake news.
-I'm gonna call Donald.
-No. This is real, Grandma.
-People are going to die today.
-(air raid siren blaring)
Let's have some burnt champagne.
MALLORY: Look,
I can't get ahold of anyone.
My mom's going straight
to voice mail.
-I got to go home, Coco.
-No.
No, no, no, no, no.
You need to stay here with me.
Okay? You can take
my brother's ticket.
Mallory, you know I'm helpless
without you.
I'm worse than Elton John.
I don't even know how
to work a dishwasher
or open a door.
Besides, after the bomb drops,
there won't be anything
to go home to.
Okay.
Why aren't we moving?!
-(screams) Oh, my God!
-(screams) Jesus Christ.
-Oh, my God!
-People are committing suicide
to avoid the blast.
-(horn honking)
-MR. GALLANT: Coco!
Coco, wait!
-What are you doing here?
-(air raid siren blaring)
I overheard your dad.
There's four spots.
Room for all of us.
This is my Nana Evie.
-How do you do?
-No, I don't.
What are you doing?
Brock is gonna be here.
He's not gonna make it.
It's chaos out there.
Jesus, what happened
to your hair?
What are you talking about?
Okay, fine.
Just get on the plane.
-Okay.
-Okay? Mwah, mwah.
-Brock, where are you?
-BROCK: No, look,
I'm coming. I'm in the worst
traffic nightmare ever.
Okay,
do whatever you have to do.
-Just get here. Hurry!
-BROCK: All right, look.
I'm running.
I will be there in ten.
Wait for me.
This doesn't look good.
Oh, my God.
Brock, they're coming.
People are coming for the plane.
MALLORY:
Coco!
It's now or never.
Brock, do you remember
the contract that we had
-with each other?
-No, no, no.
Don't go there, babe.
COCO:
Uh, at any time,
we can unilaterally release
each other
from our monogamous obligations.
You are now free
to see other people.
No, no, no, Coco!
Do not leave me
in fucking Santa Monica.
DRIVER:
Go!
Get on the plane now.
(crowd screaming)
(woman grunts)
Holy shit.
You bitch!
Where are we going?
Didn't your dad tell you?
I'll find out.
(doorknob rattling)
-There's nobody there.
-MR. GALLANT: What?!
No stewardess? Oh.
I guess I won't be ordering
the fresh-cut fruit, huh?
(explosion)
(all screaming)
(alarm beeping)
¶ ¶
¶ ¶
BOY: Where the hell is Dad?
It's almost 3:00.
I want him to be here
when we find out.
Whatever happens,
-you just worked your butt off
for three years.
-I did.
Now, if they can't see how
wonderful you are,
you know what? It's their loss.
(chuckles)
Yeah.
You're destined
for great things, Timmy.
-BOY 2: It's 3:00.
-All right, all right.
-Let's check. Come on.
Come on, come on.
-Oh.
(exhales)
I got in.
-MOTHER: I knew it.
-I got in!
(laughs):
I knew it.
-Oh, yes!
-(groans)
-Congratulations.
-Oh, thank God.
(chanting):
UCLA!
ALL (chanting):
UCLA! UCLA!
-(alert tone chiming)
-UCLA! UCLA!
UCLA.
EDWARD:
Yeah, I'm buzzing, too.
(door opens)
-Dad, you missed it.
-Honey?
-Haven't you been watching
the news?
-No.
What's going on?
It's World War III.
-What?
-ANCHOR: Hong Kong,
London, numerous sites
in the Baltics
and Moscow have all been hit
and destroyed
by nuclear ICBMs.
-He's not serious, right?
-No.
-ANCHOR: This is it,
ladies and gentlemen.
-No.
I can't believe
we actually did it.
We have just been notified
to evacuate.
What?
-I'm not gonna make it home.
-No.
So if my children
are watching this,
-Daddy lo...
-(TV turns off)
MOTHER: Well, I mean, there has
to be someplace we can go.
There's got to be
somebody's, uh, basement
or someplace that we can go.
-(crying): Something. No.
-I don't know.
-I don't know. I don't know.
-We have to go somewhere.
-(mother crying)
-(vehicle approaching)
-What is... what is this?
-Get back.
(loud knocking)
What's going on?
Timothy Campbell?
-Yeah.
-You need to come with us now.
Who are you?
Your son has been selected
by The Cooperative.
We have a location prepared
for him where he'll be safe.
-What do you mean "selected"?
-MAN: Your son's
exceptional genetic makeup
makes him a prime candidate.
Prime candidate to do what?
Survive.
How do you know
my genetic makeup?
You submitted your DNA
to an ancestry Web site.
You have to believe me, sir.
We're the only chance your son
has to live through this.
What about my family?
We're only here for you.
Then I'm not going.
We can't accept that.
-TIMOTHY: What?
-MOTHER: No, no. No!
-No! Ed. No.
-Dad? Dad?
-MOTHER: No. No.
-Get off me! Dad, do something!
-Don't let 'em take me!
-(father mumbles)
-No!
-Say good-bye
to your brother and your mother.
-WOMAN (crying): No. No.
-(father mumbles)
No, no. If you can take Timothy,
then why don't you take Edward,
too?
-WOMAN: They're not identical.
-MOTHER: No.
-Come on.
-(siren blaring)
TIMOTHY:
No. No!
-No! No.
-You have to go.
-Dad.
(panting)
(air raid siren blaring)
You have to tell me where I am.
I have rights.
No, you don't.
You'll be safe here.
(door thuds shut, lock clacks)
Hey!
-Hey!
-YOUNG WOMAN: Calm down.
It's okay.
I'm Emily.
Timothy.
How long have you been here?
EMILY:
I don't know.
Two guys dressed in black
woke me from a dead sleep,
put me in a car
and brought me to this room.
They tell you the same thing
they told me?
Found you
on some ancestry Web site?
They didn't tell me shit.
Didn't have to.
They found me in jail.
I got arrested
for protesting on campus.
They got your blood tests from
your doctor or whatever. Yeah.
Ran it through a database.
There's something in your DNA
that they want.
(explosive thud, loud rumbling,
Emily shrieks)
(clacking, electrical buzzing)
(buzzer sounding rhythmically,
rumbling continues)
-(rumbling slows,
buzzer sounding)
-TIMOTHY: My family.
(rumbling stops,
buzzer continues sounding)
(panting)
This isn't happening.
It's not...
This isn't...
It's not real.
It's not. It's not. It's not.
I think they're okay.
They're okay. They're okay.
(Timothy sobbing)
MAN: We're taking you
to an outpost equipped
for long-term habitation.
WOMAN: It's one of ten
around the world,
each constructed
in minimal fallout zones.
Are there other people there?
Others like you, and those who
can afford to purchase a ticket.
EMILY:
Rich people.
-Of course.
-MAN: The money they paid
helped finance this operation.
(vehicle slows, stops)
Put these on.
(gates clack open)
(Timothy panting)
(Emily panting)
(gates clack)
¶ ¶
(indistinct,
distant chatter)
WOMAN:
Sorry.
MAN:
Please. It wasn't her fault.
WOMAN: Please. We won't
do it again. We promise.
MAN:
Please!
(gunshots)
(Timothy gasping)
Oh, my God.
(panting)
(Timothy pants loudly)
(Timothy panting)
(Timothy continues
panting loudly)
(beeps)
(door clacks)
(Timothy panting)
(doors clack open)
(loud panting)
(doors clack, whoosh shut)
(mechanical whooshing)
(hisses loudly)
(hisses loudly)
(Timothy panting)
(hisses loudly)
(hisses loudly)
(click,
buzzer sounds)
(cane clinks against floor)
(clinking continues)
(doors whoosh open)
I am Wilhemina Venable.
Welcome to Outpost Three.
TIMOTHY:
This is a fallout shelter?
It is now.
For many years, it served
as an exclusive boys' school.
EMILY: What kind of boys' school
is subterranean?
The Cooperative, to whom
we owe our eternal gratitude,
took ownership and converted it
once they realized
what was coming.
EMILY:
The end?
No. The beginning.
The Cooperative has plans
far beyond the temporary
cleansing fire of the bomb.
The Cooperative is not made up
of nations or armies.
It's a collection
of the dozen greatest minds
mankind has to offer.
The visionaries.
TIMOTHY:
They weren't visionary enough
to think we might be able
to use some generators?
It may be seem to you
a regression, Mr. Campbell,
our way of life here,
but you'd be dead wrong.
Technology is what
destroyed the world.
Social media gave people
the illusion they were equal.
Now that's all been swept away.
The natural order
will restore itself.
I'll show you to your rooms.
As Purples, you will each be
furnished with a private suite.
EMILY:
What's a "Purple"?
The elite.
The worthy.
Those chosen to survive.
I'm supposed
to wear this shit?
In The Outpost,
everyone knows their place.
The Purples wear purple,
the Grays, gray.
Who are the Grays?
Grays are our worker ants.
Still a necessary component
of any functioning society.
The Grays are here to serve.
And grateful
for the opportunity.
The alternative being
nuclear winter,
cancer, death.
So what are you?
I am neither.
Rather, I am the strong
right arm of The Cooperative.
Think of me as their face.
EMILY:
So you're not a Purple?
The house rules are simple.
You will refer to me only
as "Ms. Venable."
You may never
leave the building.
If you wander
out onto the grounds,
you will not be allowed back in
due to the danger
of radiation contamination.
You will take your chances
with the canker pus monsters
beyond the gates.
And no unauthorized copulation
of any kind,
under any circumstances,
no exceptions.
What? You're joking.
Ask the two Grays you saw
on the way in if it's a joke.
You'll find the evening wear
on the left side of the armoire.
We dress for dinner.
Cocktails in the music room
at 6:30. Be prompt.
There's no excuse for tardiness
when there's nothing else to do.
(water running)
(sighs)
WHISPERING FEMALE VOICE:
Beware... Timothy.
("Calling Occupants of
Interplanetary Craft"
by The Carpenters plays)
¶ In your mind
you have capacities ¶
¶ You know ¶
¶ To telepath messages ¶
¶ Through the vast unknown ¶
¶ Please, close your eyes ¶
¶ And concentrate ¶
¶ With every thought you think ¶
¶ ¶
This song--
the same one every night.
¶ We're about to sing... ¶
Where is it even coming from?
And why do we have to listen
to it?
What are we missing here?
About 99% of the world's
population.
Would've been better off
dying with them.
Speak for yourself, darling.
Wouldn't have to drink this,
whatever this is.
It's mineral water.
You get a chance to talk
to Venable?
No, she creeps me out.
It's not fair that they get
to be Purples and not me.
Okay, he refused
to touch my hair
if he was a Gray,
and she's been to the Oscars,
and was best friends
with Natalie Wood,
so fucking get some perspective.
It just plays over and over,
24 hours a day.
It's like Satan's Spotify
playlist.
(Andre laughs)
¶ Contact with you... ¶
EVIE:
Oh.
Well, well, well.
New blood.
Come in. Don't be shy.
You're Dinah Stevens.
My mother used to watch
your show.
She said you beat the pants
off Oprah any day.
Bless her heart--
a million of her
and I wouldn't have been
replaced by that telenovela.
Um, what's happening out there?
¶ We beseech you ¶
-It's all gone.
-Everything.
¶ Our Earth may never survive ¶
¶ So do come, we beg you ¶
¶ Please,
interstellar policeman ¶
(bell rings)
¶ Oh, won't you give us a sign ¶
¶ Give us a sign... ¶
Dinner is served.
(dishes clinking)
It's all we get.
Don't be too disappointed.
Darling, you don't know what
disappointment is
-until you've slept
with Yul Brynner.
-(Dinah laughs)
I want to die.
The cube on your plate contains
every vitamin our body needs...
...or so they tell us.
COCO:
I'm still hungry.
I am so tired of the hunger.
Fuck this bullshit!
With all the thought that went
into this place,
they don't have a single bag of
Pirate's Booty in the pantry?
For a hundred million dollars
a ticket,
I expect goddamn Gordon Ramsay
in the kitchen
cooking us real food!
(cane taps floor)
TIMOTHY:
Oh.
I'm going to be very clear
so there will be no
misunderstanding.
We have enough nutrition
for the next 18 months.
And if our situation
doesn't improve,
you can count on less and less.
Situation?
What is our situation?
We had a perimeter alert
this morning.
Something penetrated
the grounds.
(bird wings flapping)
MEAD:
Ah, God.
-Ah, shit.
-(bird coos)
VENABLE:
It was a carrier pigeon,
delivering a message
from our benefactors.
COCO:
Wait. A pigeon?
Can we eat it?
It was contaminated
by the fallout.
Can we boil it?
"There are no more governments.
"Only rotting mounds
of corpses,
"too many to bury.
"Starving people kill
for a piece of bread.
"Three outposts
have been overrun.
"We are the last vestiges
"of civilized life
on the planet.
Be vigilant."
Everything we know is gone.
In two weeks?
That's all it took?
MEAD:
It was always fragile.
They made you think the system
was a rock.
It was a water balloon.
One prick of the needle
and... (pops lips)
...that's all it took.
VENABLE:
We will only survive
if we follow the rules.
(whispering indistinctly)
There's a problem.
We've detected a spike
in the background radiation,
centered in this room.
It's them; they just came
from the outside.
No, no. We were checked
when we got here. We're clean!
TIMOTHY: No, we went through
decontamination.
We were cleared.
Place your hands on the table.
And don't move.
(Geiger counter clicking)
Radioactive contamination
is a grave risk
to our entire community.
The clean rule is there
to protect all of us.
A single stray gamma particle
can cause skin lesions.
Your DNA breaks apart,
your body disintegrates.
You'll wish you died
in the blast.
But someone here decided
that their individual needs
were more important.
Someone went outside.
Touched something dirty.
(Geiger counter
continues clicking)
It makes me sick to think
this person
was selfish enough to risk
contaminating all...
MR. GALLANT: No. No, no, no
no, no. That's a mistake,
because the only thing
I've touched is Coco's hair.
MEAD:
She's clean. You're dirty.
No. This is impossible!
That machine is wrong. Ow!
(groans)
-EVIE: This is outrageous.
Stop! Please stop.
-(others exclaiming)
-Bring him back!
-MR. GALLANT: Evie!
(Geiger counter clicking)
-No way. No. No way.
-No!
-Get your hands off me!
-No! (sobbing)
-Take them...
-(shouting indistinctly)
-...to the decontamination room.
-ANDRE: No...
(Mr. Gallant and Stu moaning)
(moaning, wailing)
(crying, groaning)
MR. GALLANT (moaning):
No.
(both screaming, crying)
(both panting)
(Geiger counter clicking)
MR. GALLANT:
Oh, no.
(whimpers)
Clean.
(crying)
(Geiger counter
clicking rapidly)
Dirty.
STU:
Please, please. No.
I can't go through
that spray again.
You won't have to.
(screams)
(knocking on door)
Yes?
It's me.
Are you decent?
Never more so.
Well?
Ravishing might be too strong
a word,
but this one certainly
becomes you.
Don't you agree?
If anyone sees us...
We're the only ones who matter.
(laughs quietly)
VENABLE:
How did you manage it?
Stu and the Geiger counter?
MEAD:
Easy.
Set the sensitivity to ten,
you can make anyone sound
like Chernobyl.
It was lovely work.
And a pleasure.
It's strangely satisfying,
isn't it?
Dispensing punishment?
I love their faces...
that stupid "can't believe this
is happening to me"
look they get.
I'm not embarrassed to say,
it gives me a tingle.
(laughs)
I wonder what The Cooperative
would say about all of this,
making up our own rules,
terrorizing the guests.
You're still uncomfortable
with this
and that gives me pause.
I'm military.
My dad killed so many Viet-Cong
he lost count.
Killing is in my DNA.
But I still respect
the chain of command.
The Cooperative's paid my bills
for a lot of years.
Just hard for me to pretend
they're not my boss anymore.
Forget The Cooperative.
It's only us.
ANDRE:
How could he be contaminated?
Stu never went outside.
He was with me most of the time.
Well, people do strange things
when they're stuck inside 24/7.
-I've started masturbating
with my off hand.
-(laughing)
Are you saying
he deserved this?
I'm saying Stu was boring,
and using up our food,
and that lesions won't work
with my complexion.
Fuck you!
I hope they come for you next.
Nobody's coming for anyone.
Not unless you break the rules.
This is a difficult time
for everyone.
As a small consolation,
we have a special treat.
No cubes tonight?
Enjoy the bonne bouche.
Don't get used to it.
You think bribing us
with a hot meal's
just gonna make everything okay?
COCO:
Oh, my God.
I think my mouth had an orgasm.
Andre, we're not trying
to bribe anyone,
but there is something
we all need to understand.
There is no "us" and "them."
We are in this together.
No individual is greater
than the group.
We did what we had to do.
This is quite simply a tragedy.
DINAH:
Where have
you been hiding the fresh meat?
We have resources...
for special occasions.
I've never tasted
anything like it.
It's chicken.
That's not a chicken bone.
(gasps)
Tell me
this doesn't look like a finger.
(Andre gasps)
Oh, Jesus Christ.
Oh, this stew is Stu!
Mallory, come here and stick
your finger down my throat!
(Andre yelling)
(gagging, coughing)
For heavens sakes,
don't be ridiculous.
There are lines
that can never be crossed.
Not eating people
is of the first rank.
I don't care what it is.
It's absolutely divine.
And it's full of fiber.
I'm going to finish
every drop.
¶ Calling occupants
of interplanetary craft ¶
¶ Calling occupants ¶
¶ Of interplanetary,
most extraordinary craft... ¶
You're a monster.
How could you keep eating?
You knew what it was.
It was chicken, Andre.
Delicious white-meat chicken.
You're a cannibal.
-(crying): You're all cannibals!
-Think about it.
-(Andre sobs)
-DINAH: She ate it, too.
Stu was contaminated.
Why would Venable eat
irradiated meat?
TIMOTHY:
That's right.
Why would she feed us poison?
The whole reason she is here
is to keep us alive.
But where's his body, then?
I want to see it.
I want to see it.
I want to see Stu!
Shut up! Shut up!
Just listen.
-I don't hear anything.
-EMILY: Exactly.
-The song stopped.
-(clacks)
(intro to Maureen McGovern's
"The Morning After" plays)
It's been the same song
for two straight weeks.
Why would they suddenly
change it?
¶ A morning after ¶
-¶ If we can hold on ¶
-(singing along): ¶ Hold on ¶
-¶ Through the night ¶
-¶ Through the night ¶
¶ We have a chance... ¶
Don't you get it?!
It's a message!
Aah!
¶ Let's keep on looking
for the light ¶
¶ Oh, can't you... ¶
The Cooperative is trying
to tell us something!
They're saying, "Hang on.
We're coming for you."
-We're gonna be rescued.
-ANDRE: Oh.
Yes, The Cooperative
is coming for us.
Halle-fucking-lujah!
-Mallory...
-(laughter, shrieking)
(intro to Maureen McGovern's
"The Morning After" plays)
¶ There's got to be
a morning after ¶
¶ If we can hold on... ¶
Maybe it's time to eat somebody.
Or just, like, an arm.
TIMOTHY:
He was right about the song.
There was a morning after.
It just looked exactly like
the previous morning.
We weren't rescued,
and no one ever came.
But nuclear winter came,
and it finished off anything
the bombs had left alive.
¶ It's waiting
right outside the storm... ¶
TIMOTHY:
The world got colder,
deadlier.
¶ Why don't we cross the bridge
together... ¶
TIMOTHY:
But even in all of this death,
something was born.
Like everything in this place,
we had to ration one kiss
per week, just to be safe.
And though
we couldn't be together
in every way that we wanted,
it was enough
to keep us from dying inside,
like everyone else around us.
(echoing):
¶ In time... ¶
(door opens)
I have an announcement.
This will be our last breakfast.
We're cutting back
to one meal a day.
You can't be serious.
An effective dieting technique.
Yeah, so is starving to death!
How are we supposed to survive
on half a cube?
It's not optimal,
but also not impossible.
Either way, we have no choice.
Not if we want
to keep eating at all.
I fucking can't do this anymore!
DINAH:
We don't know
how strong we are
until we have to face adversity.
This could be an opportunity
for all of us to grow.
Finish that bumper sticker shit
you used to say on your show,
and I'm strong enough
to shove this fork in your neck!
EVIE:
Oh, calm down.
COCO:
What is the point
of all of this?
Starving,
killing each other,
getting shot?
All we're doing is waiting
around to find out how we die.
I say
we take our chances outside.
She's right.
We have to get out of here.
Nobody's going anywhere.
(dish clinking)
What are you gonna do?!
Shoot us all? Huh?!
What are you gonna do?
(alarm blaring)
Perimeter alert.
There's been a breach.
(doors clack open)
(horse neighing)
(horse neighs, snorts)
(horse neighing)
(horse neighs weakly)
(loud breathing)
(loud breathing)
(muffled neighing)
I need to speak to Ms. Venable.
MEAD:
Yes, sir, Mr. Langdon.
Tend to the animals.
(intro to "Tonight
You Belong to Me" playing)
-¶ I know ¶
-¶ I know ¶
¶ You belong ¶
-¶ To somebody new... ¶
-(horse exhales)
(door clacks open)
¶ But tonight
you belong to me... ¶
Wilhemina Venable.
I'm in charge here.
Of course you are.
You don't sound like
you believe me.
¶ You belong ¶
-Why wouldn't I?
-¶ To me... ¶
Seems like
you've done a wonderful job.
The walls are still standing.
Your people are alive
and healthy.
-(horse sputters)
-Which is...
-quite a feat...
-(gun chamber clicks)
-(horse neighs)
-...considering.
-(gunshot)
-(thuds)
Considering?
That three more Outposts
have been overrun,
and the remaining three
won't last through the year.
Why are you here?
-(horse neighing)
-(gunshot)
Because it's only
a matter of time
before the same thing happens
to you.
The good news is,
there's another facility,
a sanctuary.
This one's
completely impregnable
and stocked with enough supplies
to last a decade.
You're here to take us there.
LANGDON:
Hmm.
I've been assigned
to evaluate the people here
and select the ones
most worthy of survival.
I could take all of you...
or none of you.
-(rustling below)
-Those who make it live.
-(loud grunt)
-Those who don't...
...end up like my horses.
¶ Just to little old me. ¶
Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH
WOMAN: ¶ Come
if you're curious to see ¶
¶ Pull the tricks
out of my sleeve ¶
¶ All you find
is yours to keep ¶
(child laughing)
¶ Brave, are you
brave enough to meet ¶
¶ The desires that you seek? ¶
¶ Hold my hand
I'll set you free ¶
ANNOUNCER:
American Horror Story:
Apocalypse.
All new,
Wednesdays at 10:00 on FX.
(engines rumbling)
(engines rumbling louder)
ANNOUNCER:
Mayans.
All new Tuesdays
at 10:00 on FX.
If there are
any good spirits here,
let yourself be known.
WOMAN: Thirteen.
Bar mitzvah.
-(groaning)
-(cackling)
-F.
-X.
-X.
-Money.
-Business.
-Government.
-Problem.
-Money.
-Family.
-Enemy.
-Problem.
-Money!
-Work.
Revenge.
-Problem.
-ANNOUNCER: Snowfall.
All new.
Thursdays at 10:00 on FX.
-So what do you want
for your birthday?
-I want a tea--
Whoa. Hey! Why don't you
watch where you're going?
-What was that?
-There you are, man.
-What are these idiots doing?
-(tea pot whistle blowing)
(horn honks)
(whistling continues)
The world is full of assholes.
You know why? 'Cause people
think they can get away with it.
You right, old man?
(grunts)
(whistling stops)
So, in your mind,
you've done society a favor?
-Yeah.
-(laughter)
I'm pretty big on respect,
so if you respect me,
I respect you.
Oh!
FX presents...
American Horror Story:
Apocalypse.
(blows)
Fini. How much do you love?
Am I the first one
to get this cut?
Because I'm working on becoming
an Instagram influencer,
and I refuse to show
my full ass crack,
so my hairstyle
has to be on point.
Who cares how many followers
you have? You're a billionaire.
That's my father's money.
I need to make something
of myself.
You did.
You're the next Chris McMillan.
Mm.
Take a sip so we can post.
Cold-pressed juice is trending
super hard right now.
You're gonna get, like,
10,000 likes in ten minutes.
(camera clicks)
Are you trying
to fucking poison me?
This tastes like turtle shit.
You're supposed to be
my personal assistant, Mallory.
Do you even know me?
Could you just go
and get me a macchiato
so I can rinse this taste out
of my mouth?
(mouths)
(tires squealing)
Are the Kardashians filming
out there?
(alert tone chiming)
-MR. GALLANT: What the fuck?
-No.
It's bullshit. It's a hoax.
It's like that time in Hawaii.
They're gonna text in, like,
a minute with a retraction.
(phone rings)
Oh. Hi, Daddy.
How's Hong Kong?
-Coco, listen to me.
-Oh, you know what?
We have a terrible connection.
-I'll call you after I'm done...
-Just shut up and listen.
The missile alert is real.
In less than an hour,
Los Angeles is going to be
an empty crater.
Wait, Daddy, you're scaring me.
You can still be safe.
There are four spots reserved
for our family, but your mother
and brother are here with me,
and we're not going to make it.
A car is coming.
It'll take you
to Santa Monica Airport.
A private jet is waiting,
so go. So go.
-Now.
-What are you talking about?
Your mother and I
love you very much.
Wish we could be together again,
but it's too late.
Just try to be happy, baby.
-MR. GALLANT: Oh, my God.
-(tires screech)
That's the only thing
that matters.
-(explosion)
-(Coco gasps)
No! No, no, no!
-Wait, was that real?
-(horn honking)
We got to go, Coco.
Come on. Come on.
-Come on, Coco.
-Okay.
-(alert tone chiming)
-(horn honking)
ANCHOR (on TV): Widespread panic
is being reported
in major cities
around the country.
We can now confirm
that a ballistic missile alert
was texted to public
approximately 3:00 p.m.
-Pacific Standard Time.
-(phone buzzing)
The Pentagon
has not yet released a statement
and there has been no word
from the White House.
Babe, are you seeing this?
-Brock, where are you?
-What do you mean? I'm at work.
I just heard
a fucking amazing pitch.
Free Willy
as a six-part limited series.
-It's kind of genius.
-(loud thud)
Brock, I love you. I don't want
to live without you.
Get to Santa Monica Airport.
-There's a plane waiting for us.
-What?
-(tires squealing)
-(horn honks)
-(screams)
-BROCK: Coco?
(phone beeping)
ANCHOR:
WBN can now confirm
Hong Kong, London,
numerous sites in the Baltics
and Moscow have all been hit
and destroyed
by nuclear ICBMs.
This is it,
ladies and gentlemen.
I can't believe
we actually did it.
We have just been notified
to evacuate.
I'm not gonna make it home.
So if my children
are watching this...
...Daddy loves you very much.
(alert tone chiming)
(air raid siren blaring)
(blaring continues)
Ugh. Esmeralda,
the champagne's burnt again.
You left it
in the freezer too long.
Where are you going?
You know I pay you
for a ten-hour day.
I have to go home, Mrs. Evie.
It's the end of the world.
Nana, I've been trying
to call you.
When he ran MGM,
your grandfather--
God rest his soul--
would never return calls
until the following day.
All of the stars
and all of the agents
would have to go
and see him in person
if they wanted to get...
What are you doing?
The government sent a warning.
-Missiles are coming.
-So is global warming. Well.
It's probably fake news.
-I'm gonna call Donald.
-No. This is real, Grandma.
-People are going to die today.
-(air raid siren blaring)
Let's have some burnt champagne.
MALLORY: Look,
I can't get ahold of anyone.
My mom's going straight
to voice mail.
-I got to go home, Coco.
-No.
No, no, no, no, no.
You need to stay here with me.
Okay? You can take
my brother's ticket.
Mallory, you know I'm helpless
without you.
I'm worse than Elton John.
I don't even know how
to work a dishwasher
or open a door.
Besides, after the bomb drops,
there won't be anything
to go home to.
Okay.
Why aren't we moving?!
-(screams) Oh, my God!
-(screams) Jesus Christ.
-Oh, my God!
-People are committing suicide
to avoid the blast.
-(horn honking)
-MR. GALLANT: Coco!
Coco, wait!
-What are you doing here?
-(air raid siren blaring)
I overheard your dad.
There's four spots.
Room for all of us.
This is my Nana Evie.
-How do you do?
-No, I don't.
What are you doing?
Brock is gonna be here.
He's not gonna make it.
It's chaos out there.
Jesus, what happened
to your hair?
What are you talking about?
Okay, fine.
Just get on the plane.
-Okay.
-Okay? Mwah, mwah.
-Brock, where are you?
-BROCK: No, look,
I'm coming. I'm in the worst
traffic nightmare ever.
Okay,
do whatever you have to do.
-Just get here. Hurry!
-BROCK: All right, look.
I'm running.
I will be there in ten.
Wait for me.
This doesn't look good.
Oh, my God.
Brock, they're coming.
People are coming for the plane.
MALLORY:
Coco!
It's now or never.
Brock, do you remember
the contract that we had
-with each other?
-No, no, no.
Don't go there, babe.
COCO:
Uh, at any time,
we can unilaterally release
each other
from our monogamous obligations.
You are now free
to see other people.
No, no, no, Coco!
Do not leave me
in fucking Santa Monica.
DRIVER:
Go!
Get on the plane now.
(crowd screaming)
(woman grunts)
Holy shit.
You bitch!
Where are we going?
Didn't your dad tell you?
I'll find out.
(doorknob rattling)
-There's nobody there.
-MR. GALLANT: What?!
No stewardess? Oh.
I guess I won't be ordering
the fresh-cut fruit, huh?
(explosion)
(all screaming)
(alarm beeping)
¶ ¶
¶ ¶
BOY: Where the hell is Dad?
It's almost 3:00.
I want him to be here
when we find out.
Whatever happens,
-you just worked your butt off
for three years.
-I did.
Now, if they can't see how
wonderful you are,
you know what? It's their loss.
(chuckles)
Yeah.
You're destined
for great things, Timmy.
-BOY 2: It's 3:00.
-All right, all right.
-Let's check. Come on.
Come on, come on.
-Oh.
(exhales)
I got in.
-MOTHER: I knew it.
-I got in!
(laughs):
I knew it.
-Oh, yes!
-(groans)
-Congratulations.
-Oh, thank God.
(chanting):
UCLA!
ALL (chanting):
UCLA! UCLA!
-(alert tone chiming)
-UCLA! UCLA!
UCLA.
EDWARD:
Yeah, I'm buzzing, too.
(door opens)
-Dad, you missed it.
-Honey?
-Haven't you been watching
the news?
-No.
What's going on?
It's World War III.
-What?
-ANCHOR: Hong Kong,
London, numerous sites
in the Baltics
and Moscow have all been hit
and destroyed
by nuclear ICBMs.
-He's not serious, right?
-No.
-ANCHOR: This is it,
ladies and gentlemen.
-No.
I can't believe
we actually did it.
We have just been notified
to evacuate.
What?
-I'm not gonna make it home.
-No.
So if my children
are watching this,
-Daddy lo...
-(TV turns off)
MOTHER: Well, I mean, there has
to be someplace we can go.
There's got to be
somebody's, uh, basement
or someplace that we can go.
-(crying): Something. No.
-I don't know.
-I don't know. I don't know.
-We have to go somewhere.
-(mother crying)
-(vehicle approaching)
-What is... what is this?
-Get back.
(loud knocking)
What's going on?
Timothy Campbell?
-Yeah.
-You need to come with us now.
Who are you?
Your son has been selected
by The Cooperative.
We have a location prepared
for him where he'll be safe.
-What do you mean "selected"?
-MAN: Your son's
exceptional genetic makeup
makes him a prime candidate.
Prime candidate to do what?
Survive.
How do you know
my genetic makeup?
You submitted your DNA
to an ancestry Web site.
You have to believe me, sir.
We're the only chance your son
has to live through this.
What about my family?
We're only here for you.
Then I'm not going.
We can't accept that.
-TIMOTHY: What?
-MOTHER: No, no. No!
-No! Ed. No.
-Dad? Dad?
-MOTHER: No. No.
-Get off me! Dad, do something!
-Don't let 'em take me!
-(father mumbles)
-No!
-Say good-bye
to your brother and your mother.
-WOMAN (crying): No. No.
-(father mumbles)
No, no. If you can take Timothy,
then why don't you take Edward,
too?
-WOMAN: They're not identical.
-MOTHER: No.
-Come on.
-(siren blaring)
TIMOTHY:
No. No!
-No! No.
-You have to go.
-Dad.
(panting)
(air raid siren blaring)
You have to tell me where I am.
I have rights.
No, you don't.
You'll be safe here.
(door thuds shut, lock clacks)
Hey!
-Hey!
-YOUNG WOMAN: Calm down.
It's okay.
I'm Emily.
Timothy.
How long have you been here?
EMILY:
I don't know.
Two guys dressed in black
woke me from a dead sleep,
put me in a car
and brought me to this room.
They tell you the same thing
they told me?
Found you
on some ancestry Web site?
They didn't tell me shit.
Didn't have to.
They found me in jail.
I got arrested
for protesting on campus.
They got your blood tests from
your doctor or whatever. Yeah.
Ran it through a database.
There's something in your DNA
that they want.
(explosive thud, loud rumbling,
Emily shrieks)
(clacking, electrical buzzing)
(buzzer sounding rhythmically,
rumbling continues)
-(rumbling slows,
buzzer sounding)
-TIMOTHY: My family.
(rumbling stops,
buzzer continues sounding)
(panting)
This isn't happening.
It's not...
This isn't...
It's not real.
It's not. It's not. It's not.
I think they're okay.
They're okay. They're okay.
(Timothy sobbing)
MAN: We're taking you
to an outpost equipped
for long-term habitation.
WOMAN: It's one of ten
around the world,
each constructed
in minimal fallout zones.
Are there other people there?
Others like you, and those who
can afford to purchase a ticket.
EMILY:
Rich people.
-Of course.
-MAN: The money they paid
helped finance this operation.
(vehicle slows, stops)
Put these on.
(gates clack open)
(Timothy panting)
(Emily panting)
(gates clack)
¶ ¶
(indistinct,
distant chatter)
WOMAN:
Sorry.
MAN:
Please. It wasn't her fault.
WOMAN: Please. We won't
do it again. We promise.
MAN:
Please!
(gunshots)
(Timothy gasping)
Oh, my God.
(panting)
(Timothy pants loudly)
(Timothy panting)
(Timothy continues
panting loudly)
(beeps)
(door clacks)
(Timothy panting)
(doors clack open)
(loud panting)
(doors clack, whoosh shut)
(mechanical whooshing)
(hisses loudly)
(hisses loudly)
(Timothy panting)
(hisses loudly)
(hisses loudly)
(click,
buzzer sounds)
(cane clinks against floor)
(clinking continues)
(doors whoosh open)
I am Wilhemina Venable.
Welcome to Outpost Three.
TIMOTHY:
This is a fallout shelter?
It is now.
For many years, it served
as an exclusive boys' school.
EMILY: What kind of boys' school
is subterranean?
The Cooperative, to whom
we owe our eternal gratitude,
took ownership and converted it
once they realized
what was coming.
EMILY:
The end?
No. The beginning.
The Cooperative has plans
far beyond the temporary
cleansing fire of the bomb.
The Cooperative is not made up
of nations or armies.
It's a collection
of the dozen greatest minds
mankind has to offer.
The visionaries.
TIMOTHY:
They weren't visionary enough
to think we might be able
to use some generators?
It may be seem to you
a regression, Mr. Campbell,
our way of life here,
but you'd be dead wrong.
Technology is what
destroyed the world.
Social media gave people
the illusion they were equal.
Now that's all been swept away.
The natural order
will restore itself.
I'll show you to your rooms.
As Purples, you will each be
furnished with a private suite.
EMILY:
What's a "Purple"?
The elite.
The worthy.
Those chosen to survive.
I'm supposed
to wear this shit?
In The Outpost,
everyone knows their place.
The Purples wear purple,
the Grays, gray.
Who are the Grays?
Grays are our worker ants.
Still a necessary component
of any functioning society.
The Grays are here to serve.
And grateful
for the opportunity.
The alternative being
nuclear winter,
cancer, death.
So what are you?
I am neither.
Rather, I am the strong
right arm of The Cooperative.
Think of me as their face.
EMILY:
So you're not a Purple?
The house rules are simple.
You will refer to me only
as "Ms. Venable."
You may never
leave the building.
If you wander
out onto the grounds,
you will not be allowed back in
due to the danger
of radiation contamination.
You will take your chances
with the canker pus monsters
beyond the gates.
And no unauthorized copulation
of any kind,
under any circumstances,
no exceptions.
What? You're joking.
Ask the two Grays you saw
on the way in if it's a joke.
You'll find the evening wear
on the left side of the armoire.
We dress for dinner.
Cocktails in the music room
at 6:30. Be prompt.
There's no excuse for tardiness
when there's nothing else to do.
(water running)
(sighs)
WHISPERING FEMALE VOICE:
Beware... Timothy.
("Calling Occupants of
Interplanetary Craft"
by The Carpenters plays)
¶ In your mind
you have capacities ¶
¶ You know ¶
¶ To telepath messages ¶
¶ Through the vast unknown ¶
¶ Please, close your eyes ¶
¶ And concentrate ¶
¶ With every thought you think ¶
¶ ¶
This song--
the same one every night.
¶ We're about to sing... ¶
Where is it even coming from?
And why do we have to listen
to it?
What are we missing here?
About 99% of the world's
population.
Would've been better off
dying with them.
Speak for yourself, darling.
Wouldn't have to drink this,
whatever this is.
It's mineral water.
You get a chance to talk
to Venable?
No, she creeps me out.
It's not fair that they get
to be Purples and not me.
Okay, he refused
to touch my hair
if he was a Gray,
and she's been to the Oscars,
and was best friends
with Natalie Wood,
so fucking get some perspective.
It just plays over and over,
24 hours a day.
It's like Satan's Spotify
playlist.
(Andre laughs)
¶ Contact with you... ¶
EVIE:
Oh.
Well, well, well.
New blood.
Come in. Don't be shy.
You're Dinah Stevens.
My mother used to watch
your show.
She said you beat the pants
off Oprah any day.
Bless her heart--
a million of her
and I wouldn't have been
replaced by that telenovela.
Um, what's happening out there?
¶ We beseech you ¶
-It's all gone.
-Everything.
¶ Our Earth may never survive ¶
¶ So do come, we beg you ¶
¶ Please,
interstellar policeman ¶
(bell rings)
¶ Oh, won't you give us a sign ¶
¶ Give us a sign... ¶
Dinner is served.
(dishes clinking)
It's all we get.
Don't be too disappointed.
Darling, you don't know what
disappointment is
-until you've slept
with Yul Brynner.
-(Dinah laughs)
I want to die.
The cube on your plate contains
every vitamin our body needs...
...or so they tell us.
COCO:
I'm still hungry.
I am so tired of the hunger.
Fuck this bullshit!
With all the thought that went
into this place,
they don't have a single bag of
Pirate's Booty in the pantry?
For a hundred million dollars
a ticket,
I expect goddamn Gordon Ramsay
in the kitchen
cooking us real food!
(cane taps floor)
TIMOTHY:
Oh.
I'm going to be very clear
so there will be no
misunderstanding.
We have enough nutrition
for the next 18 months.
And if our situation
doesn't improve,
you can count on less and less.
Situation?
What is our situation?
We had a perimeter alert
this morning.
Something penetrated
the grounds.
(bird wings flapping)
MEAD:
Ah, God.
-Ah, shit.
-(bird coos)
VENABLE:
It was a carrier pigeon,
delivering a message
from our benefactors.
COCO:
Wait. A pigeon?
Can we eat it?
It was contaminated
by the fallout.
Can we boil it?
"There are no more governments.
"Only rotting mounds
of corpses,
"too many to bury.
"Starving people kill
for a piece of bread.
"Three outposts
have been overrun.
"We are the last vestiges
"of civilized life
on the planet.
Be vigilant."
Everything we know is gone.
In two weeks?
That's all it took?
MEAD:
It was always fragile.
They made you think the system
was a rock.
It was a water balloon.
One prick of the needle
and... (pops lips)
...that's all it took.
VENABLE:
We will only survive
if we follow the rules.
(whispering indistinctly)
There's a problem.
We've detected a spike
in the background radiation,
centered in this room.
It's them; they just came
from the outside.
No, no. We were checked
when we got here. We're clean!
TIMOTHY: No, we went through
decontamination.
We were cleared.
Place your hands on the table.
And don't move.
(Geiger counter clicking)
Radioactive contamination
is a grave risk
to our entire community.
The clean rule is there
to protect all of us.
A single stray gamma particle
can cause skin lesions.
Your DNA breaks apart,
your body disintegrates.
You'll wish you died
in the blast.
But someone here decided
that their individual needs
were more important.
Someone went outside.
Touched something dirty.
(Geiger counter
continues clicking)
It makes me sick to think
this person
was selfish enough to risk
contaminating all...
MR. GALLANT: No. No, no, no
no, no. That's a mistake,
because the only thing
I've touched is Coco's hair.
MEAD:
She's clean. You're dirty.
No. This is impossible!
That machine is wrong. Ow!
(groans)
-EVIE: This is outrageous.
Stop! Please stop.
-(others exclaiming)
-Bring him back!
-MR. GALLANT: Evie!
(Geiger counter clicking)
-No way. No. No way.
-No!
-Get your hands off me!
-No! (sobbing)
-Take them...
-(shouting indistinctly)
-...to the decontamination room.
-ANDRE: No...
(Mr. Gallant and Stu moaning)
(moaning, wailing)
(crying, groaning)
MR. GALLANT (moaning):
No.
(both screaming, crying)
(both panting)
(Geiger counter clicking)
MR. GALLANT:
Oh, no.
(whimpers)
Clean.
(crying)
(Geiger counter
clicking rapidly)
Dirty.
STU:
Please, please. No.
I can't go through
that spray again.
You won't have to.
(screams)
(knocking on door)
Yes?
It's me.
Are you decent?
Never more so.
Well?
Ravishing might be too strong
a word,
but this one certainly
becomes you.
Don't you agree?
If anyone sees us...
We're the only ones who matter.
(laughs quietly)
VENABLE:
How did you manage it?
Stu and the Geiger counter?
MEAD:
Easy.
Set the sensitivity to ten,
you can make anyone sound
like Chernobyl.
It was lovely work.
And a pleasure.
It's strangely satisfying,
isn't it?
Dispensing punishment?
I love their faces...
that stupid "can't believe this
is happening to me"
look they get.
I'm not embarrassed to say,
it gives me a tingle.
(laughs)
I wonder what The Cooperative
would say about all of this,
making up our own rules,
terrorizing the guests.
You're still uncomfortable
with this
and that gives me pause.
I'm military.
My dad killed so many Viet-Cong
he lost count.
Killing is in my DNA.
But I still respect
the chain of command.
The Cooperative's paid my bills
for a lot of years.
Just hard for me to pretend
they're not my boss anymore.
Forget The Cooperative.
It's only us.
ANDRE:
How could he be contaminated?
Stu never went outside.
He was with me most of the time.
Well, people do strange things
when they're stuck inside 24/7.
-I've started masturbating
with my off hand.
-(laughing)
Are you saying
he deserved this?
I'm saying Stu was boring,
and using up our food,
and that lesions won't work
with my complexion.
Fuck you!
I hope they come for you next.
Nobody's coming for anyone.
Not unless you break the rules.
This is a difficult time
for everyone.
As a small consolation,
we have a special treat.
No cubes tonight?
Enjoy the bonne bouche.
Don't get used to it.
You think bribing us
with a hot meal's
just gonna make everything okay?
COCO:
Oh, my God.
I think my mouth had an orgasm.
Andre, we're not trying
to bribe anyone,
but there is something
we all need to understand.
There is no "us" and "them."
We are in this together.
No individual is greater
than the group.
We did what we had to do.
This is quite simply a tragedy.
DINAH:
Where have
you been hiding the fresh meat?
We have resources...
for special occasions.
I've never tasted
anything like it.
It's chicken.
That's not a chicken bone.
(gasps)
Tell me
this doesn't look like a finger.
(Andre gasps)
Oh, Jesus Christ.
Oh, this stew is Stu!
Mallory, come here and stick
your finger down my throat!
(Andre yelling)
(gagging, coughing)
For heavens sakes,
don't be ridiculous.
There are lines
that can never be crossed.
Not eating people
is of the first rank.
I don't care what it is.
It's absolutely divine.
And it's full of fiber.
I'm going to finish
every drop.
¶ Calling occupants
of interplanetary craft ¶
¶ Calling occupants ¶
¶ Of interplanetary,
most extraordinary craft... ¶
You're a monster.
How could you keep eating?
You knew what it was.
It was chicken, Andre.
Delicious white-meat chicken.
You're a cannibal.
-(crying): You're all cannibals!
-Think about it.
-(Andre sobs)
-DINAH: She ate it, too.
Stu was contaminated.
Why would Venable eat
irradiated meat?
TIMOTHY:
That's right.
Why would she feed us poison?
The whole reason she is here
is to keep us alive.
But where's his body, then?
I want to see it.
I want to see it.
I want to see Stu!
Shut up! Shut up!
Just listen.
-I don't hear anything.
-EMILY: Exactly.
-The song stopped.
-(clacks)
(intro to Maureen McGovern's
"The Morning After" plays)
It's been the same song
for two straight weeks.
Why would they suddenly
change it?
¶ A morning after ¶
-¶ If we can hold on ¶
-(singing along): ¶ Hold on ¶
-¶ Through the night ¶
-¶ Through the night ¶
¶ We have a chance... ¶
Don't you get it?!
It's a message!
Aah!
¶ Let's keep on looking
for the light ¶
¶ Oh, can't you... ¶
The Cooperative is trying
to tell us something!
They're saying, "Hang on.
We're coming for you."
-We're gonna be rescued.
-ANDRE: Oh.
Yes, The Cooperative
is coming for us.
Halle-fucking-lujah!
-Mallory...
-(laughter, shrieking)
(intro to Maureen McGovern's
"The Morning After" plays)
¶ There's got to be
a morning after ¶
¶ If we can hold on... ¶
Maybe it's time to eat somebody.
Or just, like, an arm.
TIMOTHY:
He was right about the song.
There was a morning after.
It just looked exactly like
the previous morning.
We weren't rescued,
and no one ever came.
But nuclear winter came,
and it finished off anything
the bombs had left alive.
¶ It's waiting
right outside the storm... ¶
TIMOTHY:
The world got colder,
deadlier.
¶ Why don't we cross the bridge
together... ¶
TIMOTHY:
But even in all of this death,
something was born.
Like everything in this place,
we had to ration one kiss
per week, just to be safe.
And though
we couldn't be together
in every way that we wanted,
it was enough
to keep us from dying inside,
like everyone else around us.
(echoing):
¶ In time... ¶
(door opens)
I have an announcement.
This will be our last breakfast.
We're cutting back
to one meal a day.
You can't be serious.
An effective dieting technique.
Yeah, so is starving to death!
How are we supposed to survive
on half a cube?
It's not optimal,
but also not impossible.
Either way, we have no choice.
Not if we want
to keep eating at all.
I fucking can't do this anymore!
DINAH:
We don't know
how strong we are
until we have to face adversity.
This could be an opportunity
for all of us to grow.
Finish that bumper sticker shit
you used to say on your show,
and I'm strong enough
to shove this fork in your neck!
EVIE:
Oh, calm down.
COCO:
What is the point
of all of this?
Starving,
killing each other,
getting shot?
All we're doing is waiting
around to find out how we die.
I say
we take our chances outside.
She's right.
We have to get out of here.
Nobody's going anywhere.
(dish clinking)
What are you gonna do?!
Shoot us all? Huh?!
What are you gonna do?
(alarm blaring)
Perimeter alert.
There's been a breach.
(doors clack open)
(horse neighing)
(horse neighs, snorts)
(horse neighing)
(horse neighs weakly)
(loud breathing)
(loud breathing)
(muffled neighing)
I need to speak to Ms. Venable.
MEAD:
Yes, sir, Mr. Langdon.
Tend to the animals.
(intro to "Tonight
You Belong to Me" playing)
-¶ I know ¶
-¶ I know ¶
¶ You belong ¶
-¶ To somebody new... ¶
-(horse exhales)
(door clacks open)
¶ But tonight
you belong to me... ¶
Wilhemina Venable.
I'm in charge here.
Of course you are.
You don't sound like
you believe me.
¶ You belong ¶
-Why wouldn't I?
-¶ To me... ¶
Seems like
you've done a wonderful job.
The walls are still standing.
Your people are alive
and healthy.
-(horse sputters)
-Which is...
-quite a feat...
-(gun chamber clicks)
-(horse neighs)
-...considering.
-(gunshot)
-(thuds)
Considering?
That three more Outposts
have been overrun,
and the remaining three
won't last through the year.
Why are you here?
-(horse neighing)
-(gunshot)
Because it's only
a matter of time
before the same thing happens
to you.
The good news is,
there's another facility,
a sanctuary.
This one's
completely impregnable
and stocked with enough supplies
to last a decade.
You're here to take us there.
LANGDON:
Hmm.
I've been assigned
to evaluate the people here
and select the ones
most worthy of survival.
I could take all of you...
or none of you.
-(rustling below)
-Those who make it live.
-(loud grunt)
-Those who don't...
...end up like my horses.
¶ Just to little old me. ¶
Captioned by
Media Access Group at WGBH
WOMAN: ¶ Come
if you're curious to see ¶
¶ Pull the tricks
out of my sleeve ¶
¶ All you find
is yours to keep ¶
(child laughing)
¶ Brave, are you
brave enough to meet ¶
¶ The desires that you seek? ¶
¶ Hold my hand
I'll set you free ¶
ANNOUNCER:
American Horror Story:
Apocalypse.
All new,
Wednesdays at 10:00 on FX.
(engines rumbling)
(engines rumbling louder)
ANNOUNCER:
Mayans.
All new Tuesdays
at 10:00 on FX.
If there are
any good spirits here,
let yourself be known.
WOMAN: Thirteen.
Bar mitzvah.
-(groaning)
-(cackling)
-F.
-X.
-X.
-Money.
-Business.
-Government.
-Problem.
-Money.
-Family.
-Enemy.
-Problem.
-Money!
-Work.
Revenge.
-Problem.
-ANNOUNCER: Snowfall.
All new.
Thursdays at 10:00 on FX.
-So what do you want
for your birthday?
-I want a tea--
Whoa. Hey! Why don't you
watch where you're going?
-What was that?
-There you are, man.
-What are these idiots doing?
-(tea pot whistle blowing)
(horn honks)
(whistling continues)
The world is full of assholes.
You know why? 'Cause people
think they can get away with it.
You right, old man?
(grunts)
(whistling stops)
So, in your mind,
you've done society a favor?
-Yeah.
-(laughter)