ER
Lockdown

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Lockdown

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.

A young woman runs over and wails that she followed her fiancé's ambulance, but can't get inside the building to see him. Her fiancé is Colin, I think, which means she clearly didn't follow the rig too closely, since he's been in the ER for a while now. The paramedics unload a trauma behind them, having not gotten a radio message that County General is sealed off. They wheel out Marta, an eighteen-year-old with a gunshot wound. Colin's fiancée wails that he might be dying without her. I think we're supposed to feel tense for her, but since we barely care about Colin except to be sorry that Pratt's his doctor, well, I say we call it a day and go bowling. Weaver has other ideas; she realizes that Marta is bleeding into her chest, and gets worried.

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