FLASHBACK: it’s chaos and panic, there’s “walkers” everywhere, no one knows WHAT to do. Shane is at the hospital, trying to rescue Grimes, who is recovering from his gunshot wound-induced coma (didn’t he get shot in the shoulder? Never mind). Out in the hallway, some marines in HAZMAT suits have rounded up all the human beings and are shooting them in the head, just in case. Haha. Whoa. Stand down! Shane hides in Grimes’s room and just stares baffled at the health machines purportedly keeping his friend alive. In retrospect, it’s starting to feel like maybe Shane didn’t plan this through. Like, between the white-knuckle dodging of the Death Squads and the staring dead-eyed at an I.V. like it’s an unsolvable Sphinx riddle, it’s starting to feel like maybe Shane should have taken five minutes back at home to just work out a couple of contingency plans. Don’t get me wrong: very brave of you, Shane. Thank you for coming to get Grimes. But, like, it’s clearly the middle of a Zombie Apocalypse, so at the very least you might have suspected that there would be a couple of bumps in the road. There is an explosion and all of the machines blip off. Whoops. Shane counts to three, and when his friend doesn’t open his eyes or even update his Facebook status from “coma” to “it’s complicated,” Shane pushes a bed in front of his door and runs away. Sure. I mean, multiple times throughout this series we have seen that even heavily guarded, seemingly impenetrable spaces have been easily overrun by the walking dead, we know that Grimes makes it out of the hospital. Maybe mankind should have taken a closer look at this whole “bed in front of door” strategy. Might have saved a lot of lives. Oh well. Better luck next apocalypse.
It’s the season finale, you guys!
Back at the CDC, the gang runs into the lobby. “Hello? Hello?” Click clack. Oh there he is. The doctor points a gun at everyone and asks if anyone’s infected. Cool question. Like, that just seems like one of those questions that you have to answer honestly because you’d just feel bad if you didn’t. “Yeah, me, I am, you should probably shoot me in the face. Bye guys. Love you.” The doctor asks them what they want. Ha! Another really good question, since what they want could be almost anything. Grimes says they just want a chance. What? Come on, Grimes. Be more specific. No puzzles in a gun-stand-off in the midst of a zombie apocalypse in the lobby of the CDC please guys. Save it for the poetry slam. The doctor tells them that a blood test is “the price of admission.” Considering the way that this episode ends, seems like a blood test might not be the wisest allocation of resources, but fair enough. You’re the crazy doctor, doc. He also tells them that they should get whatever they need from the outside world now because once the doors close they stay closed. Everyone’s like “Cool, definitely not even going to question what the implications of that could possibly be.”
And then: party time!
Easy on the wine, guys. The old guy explains that in Europe, children are allowed to have a little bit of wine at dinner. Grimes is like, why not, let’s let Carl have a little bit of wine. Really, The Walking Dead? I mean, on the one hand, I’m all for easing America’s puritanical relationship towards, well, everything, and am fully in favor of being open and honest with children about the adult world up to and including letting them have a little bit of wine at dinner so that alcohol is demystified for them because the roots of alcoholism are biological and not particularly dependent on age–like, an alcoholic will find alcohol eventually, that’s not the issue here–and this (potentially) prevents teenagers from dangerously over-indulging out of some kind of adolescent enthusiasm for gaining access to the forbidden, but how long are we going to spend on this whole “Carl having a sip of wine” scene? I also like that the argument for why Carl should be allowed to try wine is “Europe” rather than “because the fucking world has ended.”
On that note, right before everyone got plastered, when the doctor was doing blood tests, someone asked him what the point was since anyone who was infected would be running a fever anyway, and he said that he’d already “broken every rule in the book just letting you in here.” Haha. Relax. Pretty sure that book is OUT OF DATE and that no one will be printing an updated, more relevant edition.
Anyway, back in Wine Country, Shane puts an end to the calm and relaxed sense of happiness and relief that one might think zombie apocalypse survivors would expect to enjoy for just a little bit longer than three seconds when they find a safe shelter full of (so much) wine and food, because Shane wants some answers from the doctor about how come he’s the only one left. Oh Shane. Who do you think you are, Mulder? Leave it alone. The truth is no longer out there. Grimes tries to get Shane to relax, but Shane is like “This was your move. This is why we’re here, isn’t it?” Uh, fair enough, Shane, but if you are going to play hardball, how about you PUT DOWN THE GLASS OF WINE YOU ARE ENJOYING and SPIT ALL THE FOOD OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MOUTH. Seriously, what a shithead. The doctor explains that everyone else left to be with their families OR killed themselves. Neat. Next question! The doctor takes everyone to their living quarters and urges them to conserve their electricity usage, and to enjoy a hot shower but not to enjoy it TOO much. At which point, this happens, LOL:
Different shower strokes for different shower folks. Oh man. Shane drinking in the shower made me laugh out loud. This guy knows what Shane’s talking about.
Everyone is just wandering around with full bottles of wine in their hands. YOU GUYS, TAKE IT EASY ON THE WINE, ALREADY. Speaking of taking it easy on the wine: Shane tries to rape Lori in the rec room. But first, he explains WHY he is about to rape her. For example, he explains why he thought Grimes was dead. Fair enough, still not really cause for a rape, but go on. Then he explains that he wishes he could have traded places with him. Again, a nice sentiment, although one hardly believes it to be true considering that you’ve been very testy with him ever since he showed up, last week you almost put a shotgun hole in his back, and you are about to try and rape his wife. But continue. Shane says that if Lori didn’t think that her husband was dead, she would have stayed behind and she would have died, so if you think about it, he really saved Lori’s and Carl’s life actually.
OK, well, now you are just getting it twisted, Shane, because even if that is true, your original point was that you genuinely thought he was dead and that it was an honest mistake, but now you’re kind of arguing that even if you had lied it still worked out for the best, but if you’re going to rest your case you should not even be suggesting that you might ever have been anything less than honest. But more importantly, I will point out that not one of the things you have said is justification for a rape, due largely to the fact that there is NO JUSTIFICATION for rape. Lori scratches him. He leaves.
In bed, Grimes tells Lori that they don’t have to be afraid anymore. Oh Grimes. WHAT ARE YOU EVEN TALKING ABOUT? Grimes is a true American Hero, but sometimes he’s a real fucking idiot. Like, I know that this scene is supposed to be intense because what Grimes doesn’t know is that his best friend just tried to rape his wife, but even if that hadn’t happened, how are you going to tell your wife that there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore? You’re still living in a basement miles underground in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, even if the power wasn’t about to run out in an hour, one could safely assume that this isn’t a permanent situation.
The next morning, everyone is hungover. But not too hungover to notice that Shane has some werewolf scratches on his neck, like what a werewolf would leave if you tried to rape a werewolf in the rec room. Shane says that he must have done it to himself in the night. “I’ve never seen you do that before,” Grimes says, which is kind of funny, because huh? “I’ve been your partner for how many years, Shane? And every morning, I have gone over your neck with a magnifying glass to see if you have scratched yourself in the night, and never have I seen this.” Shane says that it isn’t like him and stares super hard at Lori. OH MY GOD ARE YOU KIDDING ME? SHANE, CAN YOU NOT EVEN BE THE SLIGHTEST BIT COOL FOR EVEN JUST TWO SECONDS EVER WITHOUT BLOWING UP YOUR OWN SPOT? AND LET ME ALSO POINT OUT, SHANE, THAT IT’S NOT LIKE THIS IS YOU DROPPING HINTS RIGHT IN FRONT OF GRIMES ABOUT HOW YOU WISH YOU WERE STILL FUCKING GRIMES’S WIFE. THOSE ARE ANTI-RAPE SCRATCHES, YOU DUMB FUCK. Someone shoot Shane in the head. Just in case.
Then again, shame on Grimes for not picking up on any of the signals. You’ve got five minutes to solve this mystery, Grimes, otherwise I’m gonna need your gun and your badge on my desk, because I am NOT telling the DA that you messed this one up again.
The doctor walks into the breakfast nook, and Andrea is like “We didn’t come here for the eggs.” Jesus Christ! You know, for a ragtag gang of malnourished apocalypse survivors, you guys are all acting VERY entitled. The doctor takes them upstairs and asks the AI computer to show them a video of a brainscan on the jumbotron. Again, considering where this is all heading, you’d think that maybe they could watch this on one of the smaller TV sets that are all over the place? And while we’re at it, maybe you should just use a mouse to find the file on your harddrive without running a system-wide voice-commanded artificial intelligence unit. Reduce reuse recycle, guys. Everyone is super-impressed with the brain scan. They all think it’s super pretty. “Neat,” everyone says. The doctor keeps talking about how it’s actually an incredible brain that they are looking at, and how the person whose scan they’re looking at was very brave, but I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably nothing. Just a regular old patient probably. The brain goes black from the zombie virus, and then the virus restarts the brain stem. It’s all very convincing and scientific, I’m sure. Then there is a flash. “What was that?” someone asks. “He shot his patient in the head,” Andrea says. HAHAHAHHA. Right. “Let’s just leave this expensive brain scanning equipment on while I shoot this zombie in the head. What? Move the body somewhere else or at least turn the scanner off? Nah. I’m a doctor!”
Hey Doc, the old man says, why is that clock counting down? Oh shit.
So, they have one hour until the CDC super-computer will initiate its decontamination protocol. Yikes. AGAIN, rather than just explaining what that means, the doctor asks the computer to define it. Really? You have an hour left and you’re going to run down the clock with shit like that? Kill yourself. (SPOILER ALERT.) Shane and Glenn and Grimes and Darryl go downstairs to check out the generator sitch. There are empty oil drums everywhere and one operative generator with its needle on empty and just, like, a tube running into the open hole of an oil drum. Haha. Have you guys ever noticed that the CDC’s emergency power system is kind of ghetto? Back in the control room, the doctor kisses a photo of his wife one last time and tells her that he tried his best in the time he had. OH WAIT HIS WIFE WAS THE PATIENT ON THE BRAINSCAN! No duh. Andrea is like “Oh wait, your wife was the patient on the brainscan,” and everyone else is like, “no duh.” Carl is like “No duh, Andrea. Come on. I’m drunk!”
The doctor seals the doors and traps everyone inside where they’re all going to be burned up. Then everyone gets into this really intense argument about hope. Oh brother. Note to Self: if you ever find yourself as a survivor in ANY kind of apocalyptic situation, zombie or otherwise, do NOT get into some argument about hope. It’s too boring. Anyway, Darryl tries to open the doors with an axe. Classic Darryl. And Shane tries to shoot the doctor in the face with a shotgun. Classic Shane. Grimes grapples him to the floor. Classic Grimes. “Are you done?” Grimes asks, like three times. Uh, Grimes? You’ve got 10 minutes until your family is meat toast. Stop asking Shane if he’s done. He’s either done or he is not done, you don’t actually need an answer to your rhetorical question. More arguing. Hope hope hope. Wine. France. The doctor eventually agrees to open the door to the control room, but he can’t open the front door. Really? Isn’t the CDC’s top-security lab buried deep in the molten core of the Earth under reinforced steel and concrete? Do they really need to lock down the atrium as well? Anyway, run run run. Glass glass glass. Oh, the windows are bullet proof and also chair proof. (Haha with the chair. No dice! Weird.)
Luckily, one of the women has been CARRYING A GRENADE IN HER PURSE THE WHOLE TIME. Hahahahahhahhaha. Oh, also a bunch of people stayed behind in the control room to kill themselves with the doctor. Goodbye. Who cares. I’m not trying to be a jerk, but if you want to kill yourself at this point then kill yourself. What’s the issue? Have fun. The old guy is like “don’t kill yourself.” Why? Let her kill herself.
They blow up a window with a grenade. Literally one window. They rush out to their cars and stuff. Remember how yesterday when they arrived at the CDC they were panicking because they didn’t have any food or fuel and they were definitely going to die if they didn’t get inside? All of that is still true, right? They see the old man and Andrea escaping through the window. I guess they decided not to kill themselves for some reason. Oh right, BECAUSE OF HOPE. (The black lady stuck to her guns [in her mouth] and killed herself. Good for her.) Uh oh, Andrea and the old guy, the decontamination protocol has begun! Imagine that there is a free Sonic root beer float waiting for you in the RV and RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!
AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA. AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA. AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA. AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA. AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA. AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA. AHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA.
Look, I’m not trying to tell the CDC how to do its job, and it’s not like I’m an expert in the containment of deadly diseases and weaponized smallpox or WHATEVER, but they REALLY might want to take another look at their Corporate Explosion Policy because at least to the outside observer it seems overly aggressive. Just saying.