Out in the jungle, Julian and his men unload another sailor from the back of their jeep. He's tied up and has a bag over his head, but it's no surprise that when he fights and it comes off, it's Prosser. Julian asks him why he's such a tight-ass about his sailors wanting a brief escape from the prison of the island, and while the men hold him, offers him samples from a whole smorgasbord of drugs in his bag. Prosser has an involuntary reaction to a vial of Fentanyl, which Julian is only too happy to prepare to inject into Prosser, even as Prosser insists he kicked the habit years ago. But while doing so, Julian tells a story from his childhood about how some men tried to take him into the bush and make him chop off his mother's arm with a machete. "That was my first day as a soldier," Julian explains. Does everyone have to have something sympathetic about them? In the meantime, Prosser's feet have been stripped bare and some of the men have lit up a gas torch, which they use to cook the COB's poor, defenseless tootsies. So now he could actually use that Fentanyl, which Julian shoots him up with, and leaves the vial with him for when the pain comes back. Their work done, they cut him loose and drive off to leave him to find his way back, on feet that will no longer hold him up. If you ever wanted to see a grown COB cry, this is it.
On the roof of the station, Kendal comes out and asks Chaplin, "So we're executioners now?" Chaplin blithely says there was no other option, and asks how things are going with Booth. Kendal tells Chaplin Booth's story about the sleeper agent's comm site, and how the Colorado is now basically The Resistance. Chaplin shrugs and says they can stop looking for the key and look for the comm site instead. "We find the traitor, we find the key." Notice how Kendal left out the part where Booth offered to put him in charge?
Elsewhere on the island, Cortez finds a stand of bamboo, lifts a rock, and stashes Chaplin's key under it. Found it, you guys!
M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, follow him on Twitter, or just e-mail him at M.Giant[at]gmail.com.