Sam seizes upon one last attempt to avert a fate worse than death -- double death! "Your brother is in there, somewhere," he pleads with Michael. "And believe me, that counts for something." Enough talk, buster -- now's the time for pointing pistols menacingly and ordering Sam to step aside so that Michael can blow this taco stand up. Sam can't help but notice that it's now two o'clock... and he also can't help but flashback to that scene he described earlier. He's in the bar, and a Tom Waits song is playing. (Well, actually it's not. C'mon, producers -- you can give us Grand Funk Railroad and the Majestic Arrows, but you can't spring for one Tom Waits song? Jeez, let me know next time and I'll send you an iTunes Gift Card so that you can download Closing Time.) Maya, of course, breezes in, and delivers the very speech that Sam gave us earlier. Only remember how it was cool and affecting and evocative when he said it? Yeah, not so much when those same lines are delivered by Lisa Bonet. Seriously, it's like she learned the speech phonetically right before the cameras started rolling. Her delivery is flat and emotionless. That problem I mentioned earlier about how I really didn't think they've done a good job of establishing the special relationship between Sam and Maya, thus robbing Sam's plight of some of its poignancy? I think I may have just pinpointed the root cause of that problem.
When we return to the here-and-now -- well, as here-and-now as 1973 can be -- Sam is smiling. And the people in 2008 who are turning off his life support have noticed, too. So has Johnny, who looks quite pointedly at his brother. See? Dr. Schwan left a little bit of brain in there. This heart-warming moment featuring the redemptive power of love, however, is cut short when Hunt and Skelton burst onto the scene, guns drawn and ready to fire. A panicked Michael trains his gun on those two, while Carling and Detective Whose Name I Don't Know and Don't Care to Learn Apparently charge him from behind. Before they can reach him, Michael fires and Hunt crumples to the ground. Well, at least you didn't die, Sam. That's a positive, right? Turns out Hunt isn't going to die, either -- Michael's shot hit his flask. "What are the chances?" a relieved Carling exclaims. "Actually," Hunt says, sitting up, "pretty good." He pulls another flask out of his coat pocket. And one more out of his side pocket. Let's end this scene, before he reaches down into his pants and produces some sangria.