By Heathen
Kathy's son, Ethan, is hosed, which I deduced from the fact that more of his blood is currently outside his body than in it. Sam reads off his weight and observes a little eerily, "Same as Alex." Then she wanders over to the kid's head, where Weaver has pulled back a flap of skin. "Oh my God, he's been scalped," Sam gasps. She looks sick. She'd better get used to this; it's only a matter of time before Alex attempts this on somebody during science class. Weaver folds it back down, thankfully. Ethan's neck is broken, so they want to use the tongs to stabilize it. And, to foreshadow his fate, they ratcheted up the cute-moppet-speak: "Where's my mommy?" Ethan whispers adorably. Ethan is going to die.
Carter walks Kem up a street of historical houses from Chicago's founding days. Piano music trills in the background, as if all the homes of the rich ooze with the sounds of prim young people simultaneously practicing piano and perfect posture. He's giddy. Carter, I think, fancies himself Laurie from Little Women. He gingerly asks Kem what she thinks of one of the houses, and she shrugs that it's lovely. "I was thinking maybe we could buy it," he says. "Actually, I may have already bought it." Kem's awed. That, or she's just a little sick that Monopoly is coming to life before her eyes. Carter says he put down a deposit to frighten off other buyers. "We'll need to have someplace to stay when we're here," he says. Interesting. "What about your grandmother's castle?" Kem asks. Carter figures he'll sell it; to hell with what his father would say, because Gamma didn't leave it to his father. "I don't want to live there," he says. God, it's about time. Carter offers to get back his deposit, but Kem grins, "I love it," and kisses him.
Abby is on the phone trying to scout information about Kathy's daughter. She figures out that the paramedics took two victims to Northwestern and two to Mercy, because one hospital usually can't handle the whole load. "There were ten victims total. We could only handle four," Malarkey says. Kathy correctly counts only eight people in that total. "There were two fatalities at the scene," Malarkey says calmly. Fucking IDIOT. God, he's not even a funny buffoon, or a watchable one, or one that divides the audience. He's just an oaf everybody loathes. Why do they keep him around? With all respect to Scott Grimes, Malarkey needs to take a long walk with a pissed-off helicopter. Kathy completely flips her shit and goes careening through the trauma rooms, first spying her husband Paul and then her blood-soaked son, who's getting pins put in his skull through the tongs. Kathy uncorks a whopper of a scream as Luka finally remembers that she's frail and wee and he's strong and hot, and drags her out of there. Kathy shrieks and shrieks until Luka picks all the scenery out of her teeth. Then she calms down almost immediately and becomes emotionally fragile, yet resigned and sturdy. It's like they filmed the scenes a week apart and forgot to put in the "Kathy dials it down ten notches" portion of dialogue. Luka quietly explains that Kathy's husband has two collapsed lungs and some internal bleeding, with a side helping of chest wounds. Kathy sees Sam and begs her to tell her what's up with Ethan. Sam bites her lip, and then gently admits Ethan's neck is broken, and that the bizarre Dr. Emmett Brown-chic headgear is an attempt to stave off paralysis. Luka chips in that Ethan's probably brain-damaged. Kathy blinks, her eyes wet, and emptily asks, "They're dying, aren't they?" Luka pretends this isn't a foregone conclusion. "Where should I go now?" Kathy asks brokenly. They're confused. "Who's going to die first?" she elucidates. Apparently, the answer is Sam, because we fade to black on a shot of her face.
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