Carter intubates Metalhead while trying to ascertain what drugs he took. Toe Boy suggests it was a cocktail of beer, pot, and Georgia Homeboy, or GHB. Carter orders a ventilator, BAL test, and tox screen, then shouts for the aid of one Cleo "Nope, No Emmy Nod Here" Finch. "I can't, I have the stampede!" she yells apologetically. Malik clarifies that a guitar player collapsed at a rock concert, and the audience mobbed the United Center stage. "No way! Metallica, or us?" gapes Toe Boy.
A paramedic wheels said guitarist into the ER, where Weaver gets the bullet: he abruptly slumped to the floor, and his girlfriend might have answers about his health history. Chuny warns her that Carter has already treated one roadie for mixing alcohol and GHB, so Weaver orders all the toxicity tests and decrees that Carter can handle both patients' results simultaneously. Frank pops in and says three more crush injuries are en route, in addition to the fact that a ponytailed man is awaiting Weaver at the front desk. "Take a name, make him wait," Weaver snaps.
The camera follows Finch and Dr. Peter "I'm So Outta Here" Benton, who wheel in a seven-year-old boy complaining of abdominal pain and bearing multiple contusions to the trunk and extremities. The paramedic explains that he was alone in the concert crush, separated from his chaperone. Cleo is mechanically disgusted that anyone would bring a boy so young to a rock concert. The boy -- Kevin -- is conscious, so Cleo asks whether he can recite his parents' number. "I can't breathe, they were pushing me," he sputters. Benton reports epigastric tenderness, "no rebound, no guarding." And no traveling! And no shooting the ball from out of bounds, dammit. Cleo says as reassuringly as an android can that Kevin is safe now and should relax while they treat him.
Officer Exposition enters and tells Benton that an ER doctor at Saint Rafe's thinks they've got Reese over there -- it was the "Reese Benton" written inside his jacket that tipped everyone off. The officer says he's looking for a parent, and can't answer Benton's queries about Carla's whereabouts. "Lily, get another surgeon. Peter, go," Cleo urges.
Abby lets herself into Luka's apartment. He's sitting in the foreground playing a videogame. She acts uncomfortable from the get-go, ribbing him that he bought only a television set, a Sony PlayStation for all your most exciting entertainment needs, and an aquarium. The product-placement people at Sony should get promotions -- both this show and Undeclared worked in loud plugs for the game console. Abby skeptically looks at the aquarium. "Couldn't get a bigger one, huh?" she jokes uncomfortably. Luka is enthralled by his game, and barely acknowledges her, but not in an unfriendly way -- he's just got a toy and he wants to use it. Abby fingers some pizza boxes and passive-aggressives that she thought the plan was to grab some dinner. "Want to play? We can hunt zombies together," Luka offers brightly. Abby grimaces and decides she's going to leave, because pizza and zombies aren't good enough for her. Luka sighs. A glimmer of joy drains from his eyes. "All right, let's go," he says, shutting off the machine. So far, my sympathy is with Luka. From the second she stepped into his apartment, Abby acted totally judgmental and condescending, like his surroundings are beneath her and she deserves nothing less than to be the center of his attention. And, as last we saw him Abby was rejecting his offer to move in together, Luka's step of emotional distance here seems normal. Abby should be jumping into Luka's lap grabbing whatever controller he wants her to play with, but whatever. I'm just blinded by his beauty.