Carter explains to Robin that her daughter's infection is in the bloodstream, which makes the lungs leak fluid. Robin is busy being racked with guilt. "We shouldn't have been there," she curses. "You could've stayed home," argues Craig. "Yeah, great, and [then] your children don't see you for a year," snipes Robin. Craig bites back a snarky retort and instead tries to comfort her by pointing out that if there had been an outbreak in Africa, they'd have heard about it by now. Torres peers through the window to ogle the paper-towel pustules. Right now, you could spill a carton of orange juice on Bree's face and it would soak right up. Robin screeches that their family was a massive and very easy target. "Some maniac is using this as a weapon!" she wails. The ER Promo Guy has a long orgasm.

Adam interrupts to point out that Bree's not doing well. Carter and Abby check on her and deduce that she's not getting enough oxygen. They sedate her and prepare to intubate; as Abby makes for Trauma Green to get a pediatric intubation tray, Carter yells for her to stop because opening the adjoining door puts Pratt's patient at risk. He leaves her with Bree and goes around outside, which -- by opening the hallway door -- would appear to put the rest of the hospital at risk. You go, Carter.

In the hall, he tears off his contaminated mask and gown, trashes them, and bolts into Trauma Green. Unceremoniously, he informs Pratt that he and Colin must move. "He could have a pulmonary contusion," Pratt bristles. Carter decides without checking thoroughly that Colin just has a mucus plug that can be cured with a little suction. "Then a vent, a neurosurgery consult, maybe even a burrhole...." Pratt lists, irritated. "And I've got a deadly airborne virus in there," Carter hisses, moving Colin out of the room. "He could crash in the hallway!" Pratt protests. Carter hops on the soapbox and snarks that Colin could also get smallpox. "A little girl needs an airway," he growls. "I need this room."

Weaver runs up outside the ER and tries to muscle her way inside. "I work here," she insists, showing no indication that any chipped tooth is impairing her speech. She's also in no apparent mouth-related pain. Can I borrow her dentist? A policeman informs her that the ER is closed, and that even her credentials as the ER Chief don't help. Haleh and Lily spy her and trot over, explaining that they had a class on the second floor and were prohibited from returning to the ER. Weaver gets on her mobile and phones Romano, screeching at whatever unfortunate receptionist accepts the call and threatens to put her on hold. Haleh gossips that she overheard the cops saying something contagious is rampant in the ER. "Like what, the plague?" scoffs Weaver. No. It's called The Hotness, it comes from Luka, and it's spreading like tear gas through the building, leaving women and men alike panting, moaning, and lining up for cold showers.