Indeed, as soon as Neela reenters the ER, Susan gets on her case about procedure. It seems Neela took her order about discharging people straight from Triage a bit too literally. Yawn. We know. Neela's disgruntled and disconnected Luckily, a girl runs in and interrupts this reprimand by screaming that her sick brother is out in the car.
Gallant and Whitley are on a van toward The Perimeter, where they're going to dabble in a little reckless triage. I think. It's all badly explained, and later I sort of felt like this scene should've come before the one in which we met Jackson, but...I can't think about this stuff or my brain will fold in upon itself. Gallant explains for Whitley, who is a hopeless exposition addict, that anyone who is wounded or loses life, limb, or eyesight -- um, through...kissing; yes, gentle kissing -- because of U.S. military action wins the right to come on down to the Army hospital and convalesce in style, or spin the wheel and play for a showcase. Otherwise, they're turned loose to the streets or local hospitals. "Hey, if we treated them all, we'd run out of beds and supplies in half a day," Gallant says. He learns that Whitley speaks Arabic and can translate for him, because she was inside The Pentagon on September 11 and the next day started studying the language, figuring that if death was going to rain down again from above, she'd like to be able to shout disapprovingly at it in its own dialect.
Neela retrieves the young boy from his mother's car; the mother speaks only Spanish and frantically hands over a note that Rosales says she got from the free clinic. It tells them to check the boy for meningitis. Neela appreciates this lovely little Post-It about as much as she would embrace getting meningitis herself.
Gallant treats a girl whose mother explains that she can't keep anything down, and that her belly hurts; Whitley translates. Gallant diagnoses dehydration, but not by a large enough factor to keep her there, so instead he gives her something that looks like Gatorade and prescribes one cup her hour. Aw. Gallant is so cute. I spent the whole hour afraid his face was going to get blown off (spoiler: it doesn't) and fearing that it would prove my coping skills inferior.
As the girl and her mother leave, Jackson's supply truck pulls away, too -- I have no proper idea where they are right now, that the supply truck would be there too, suddenly, and ditching them -- but Jackson cheerfully offers to bring Gallant something from Kuwait. "Think you can score me some citrus?" Gallant grins. He's been craving mangoes. Jackson isn't sure a mango counts as a citrus fruit, so they settle on orange and part company with a merry wave. Jackson is clearly going to die. It's good to know that the old rules of foreshadowing at County General also prove true in the Middle East. The young Iraqi girl loses her scarf and starts running after it. Her mother starts screaming, "Jamila!" as if the world were coming to an end, which seems a bit premature since all she's doing is scampering after some cloth. But she turns out to have been prescient; Jackson's transport truck abruptly explodes -- well, I guess that's redundant; nothing ever quite casually or slowly explodes -- near Jamila. Gallant immediately sprints over to them...