Meanwhile, Dean's made it a bit further down the road to Sidewinder, only to find the first bridge out of town blocked by a couple of trucks and a posse of shotgun-wielding yokels, foremost amongst them the infamous Toothy Jake, whose stance, quite frankly, is a little too musical-theater chorus-boy for him to pull off the air of silent menace he's attempting at the moment. Dean stares the fey kid down for a bit until yet another yokel bangs on the Impala's roof and shoots his head into the driver's-side window from somewhere behind. "Road's closed -- quarantine," comes the explanation that isn't for the current situation from yet another LYING LIAR WHO LIES on this show. "Say," the interloper continues with a false smile on his eerily hangdog face, "why don't you get out of the car, and we'll talk a little." Dean makes briefly terrified eyes at the freak before chuckling the suggestion off with, "Well, you are a handsome devil, but I don't swing that way. Sorry!" The hangdog weirdo chuckles along for a bit before suddenly dropping all pretense of humor and intoning, "I'd sure appreciate it if you got out of the car for a little bit." Dean nods, blinks, and throws the Impala into reverse while gunning the engine at the same time. Whee! The hangdog whackjob latches onto Dean's coat to get dragged along the asphalt for a while as Fey Boy and his synchronized team of tap-dancing mercenaries flap-ball-change flap-ball-change forward to begin a dazzlingly choreographed pursuit on foot. Fey Boy And The Merry Mercenaries knock it off with the choreography long enough to open fire on the Impala, which happens to coincide with the exact moment I lost any sort of sympathy for them. "Do NOT harm the IMPALA!" Raoul shrieks, frantically waving his claws around in the air for emphasis. Fortunately for us, El Deano skillfully executes this supremely awesome 180-degree spin in the middle of a curved incline that not only flings the hangdog whackjob into a roadside tree, but also allows him to rip off down the highway before any of those disgusting blasts of buckshot get a chance to scratch up Metallicar's paint job. "And thank God for THAT!" Raoul agrees, still shrieking from all of the excitement.
Back at the clinic, Beverly's face cracks with agony as the good Doctor Lee bestows upon her the depressing news of Dead Papa Tanner's likely infection. Captain Empathy remains at the ready, prepared to leap forward at any moment with comforting words of consolation for the grieving widow. Doctor Lee gently approaches her patient and asks for permission to draw a blood sample, just to make sure the latter's not infected as well. The Widow Tanner offers a brave little smile by way of response, patting the good doctor's hand for a moment before...launching her middle-aged form into a violent attack! "Aaauauauaaargh!" The Widow Tanner growls as she leaps into a skip-frame shudder to back-hand Doctor Lee into the wall. All of this harshly lit skip-frame stuff is supposed to evoke, like, 28 Days Later, or something -- or so I've been told -- but it's just making the entire enterprise look as cheap as it probably is. "Too true," Raoul sagely nods. "The dearth of proper lighting this show's known for, while distressing to many in the audience due to the fact that we frequently cannot see a damn thing that's happening onscreen, does cover a multitude of low-budget sins." In any event, The Infected Widow Tanner next hurls Sam bodily into a glass cabinet before snatching up a scalpel to disembowel him. Action Sammy, thinking fast, grabs a handy oxygen canister and whacks the widow on the side of the head -- hard -- with the thing, sending the demented freak into an unconscious heap on the linoleum floor.