Emeka simply pulls his gun from his waistband and shoots a nearby woman in the chest, to everyone's horror. Eko turns back, aghast. Emeka says he'll be back for the vaccines on Friday. "You don't want more lives on your conscience," he adds. No, that conscience is getting awfully heavy, I imagine. Emeka puts his sunglasses back on and drives off. Oh, and don't forget: Fridays are casual-dress days, Emeka!
Back on Craphole Island, Eko rips off the sleeve of his shirt to wrap around his bloody hand. Then he rubs handfuls of mud into his chest bandage. To cool it off? I guess? Then he goes back for more water, and we hear that vaguely cricket-on-steroids noise of an impending Lostzilla appearance, and in the water's reflection, Eko sees the black smoke gather over his head. He quickly turns around and stands up, brandishing his stick, and the smoke suddenly pulls back into the trees. He stares for a moment, and then Locke steps out of the trees on the other side of the stream, followed by Sayid, Desmond, Nikki, and Paulo. "Hello, Eko," says Locke. Eko just looks at him.
The door to Jack's cell opens, and Juliet walks in, carrying a plate with a full on fancy food lid on top of it. She says he'll never guess what's for lunch. "I'm not big on mysteries," says Jack, killjoy as usual. She pulls off the lid, and it's a cheeseburger. Jack's amazed that they have cheeseburgers, which is a little less amazing to me than the fact they have Fox Sports. And now the flirting portion of tonight's episode can begin, with Juliet clambering up on the table so she can sit coquettishly cross-legged while she explains what she went through to get a cheeseburger for Jack: killing the cow, processing the meat, baking the bun, and rendering animal fat for the fries. "No ketchup?" jokes Jack, and Juliet smiles, but before they can rip each others' clothes off and start doing it right there, Ben walks in. Juliet should have put a sock on the doorknob.
Ben briefly looks surprised at the chumminess of the scene but recovers to say that he needs to talk to Jack. "So talk to him," says Juliet, not moving. Ben says, "Alone." Jack says he's fine with Juliet being there. "And I'm thrilled that your fine, Jack," says Ben sarcastically, "but it's private. Doctor-patient confidentiality?" Juliet's all "sure, of course," but she looks kind of pissed as she walks out. Jack says, "Mind if I eat?" and starts stuffing his face with the cheeseburger.
No small talk for Ben this time; he opens with, "We had such a wonderful plan to break you, Jack," and explains that they wanted to wear him down, make him think they were not his enemies. "And then of course we'd lead you to believe that you were choosing to do whatever we asked you to do. All of this, of course, assumed that you would get invested." Invested in what, Jack wants to know. Ben asks if hadn't occurred to Jack that Juliet bears a striking resemblance to his ex-wife. Jack's looking like, "Yeah, now that he mentions it, she is a hot blonde babe," but he asks why Ben's telling him this. "Because my wonderful plan got shot to sunshine when you saw my damned X-rays and figured out I was dying." "Shot to sunshine"? The leader of the Others is Ned Flanders? Jack says, like he can't believe it, that Ben brought him here so he can save Ben's life, even though I thought Jack had already FIGURED THAT OUT, but whatever. Ben says, "No, I want you to WANT to save my life, But we're beyond that now, so... all I can ask is that you think about it." Yeah, and try to forget about the beatings and the shootings and the captive hostages, etc. Ben nods and starts to walk out, then turns back and asks if Jack believes in God. "Do you?" asks Jack. "Two days after I found out I had a fatal tumour on my spine, a spinal surgeon fell out of the sky. And if that's not proof of God, I don't know what is." Guess he hasn't heard of Angelina Jolie on this island. But seriously, what a megalomaniac! Yeah, Ben -- God killed a bunch of people to bring you a spinal surgeon. I say if you're going to thank God for the good stuff -- like bringing you a spinal surgeon -- you have to blame him for the bad stuff. Like GIVING YOU A TUMOUR. Or Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals.