The sense of disaster spinning out of control intensifies, but it’s not coming from the “terrorists” who seem so bad at bomb-making. Instead it swirls around our supposed savior, Dr. Jenkins aka David Pilcher. He’s mostly the man behind the scenes, while his sister is the agent on the ground in Wayward Pines. But he made his presence known to Ethan Burke, and he revealed himself ultimately to Kate Hewson too, it turns out.
She reacted very poorly to waking up in Wayward Pines, so resistant to whatever it seemed to be that she required medication, restraint and prolonged therapy. And though the rubber room scenes are fully over the top (letting Gugino scream and rant like the Joker in Arkham), they clearly weren’t enough. Though she was eventually able to fake her way out and into her life as Kate Ballinger, she never for a second believed it was true. And she doesn’t buy the future apocalypse story of Ethan’s, either.
Of course, we’ve seen the monsters, and we’ve been behind the scenes, where the real agenda of Wayward Pines is supposedly revealed. And it’s here that Pilcher, in his office full of rescued masterpieces, is all powerful. It’s here that he poses the greatest danger, making Nurse Pam struggle to save her colleagues from his possibly misdirected, paranoid wrath. She tries to protect one watcher (the monitors who look for insurrection vigilantly amongst the townspeople) who confesses to turning a blind eye from time to time out of courtesy, but it does no good. If Pilcher can’t find loyalty even amongst those awake to his utopian ark project, how sustainable is any part of his very unlikely, unwieldy and unbelievable plan? How long do despotic reigns generally persist?
The bombers come up with plan two as their plans fray, which amounts to ramming a truck through the gate. Their numbers have dwindled (as the timid have fled back to their bungalows), and when Harold is captured by Burke, he is interrogated until he gives up their plan. But it’s too late (really too late) for the lone escapee, makes it through the wall but not past aberrant teeth.
Meanwhile, Megan comes to the hospital (suddenly fully staffed again, like any good set piece) and continues to come between a convalescing Ben and his parents, positing a rather severe stance against Ben’s father, whose tenure as Sheriff has been far too lenient in her eyes. His supposed guilty role in the truck bombing relates to an earlier embarrassing terrorist event in his career, the one that sent his life out of control and that he finally shares with his wife after his son accuses him of …. what, stupidity? Cowardice? Lack of sufficient badassery? This is Matt Dillon you’re talking too, pipsqueak, but Ethan takes it very well, not blaming his clearly distraught and confused (and injured) son. He instead reaches out to Teresa, answering questions once too classified to discuss.
It’s a trying day for Teresa all around, who notices Megan skulking in the halls and confronts her directly about coming between Ben and his parents. Megan plays semantic games, but the best moment is after Teresa walks away, when Hope Davis gives a look up to the heavens in the corridor, rolling her eyes. We know she’s actually looking directly at the monitors behind the cameras, as if to say “can you believe this one?” Those damn rats just get so restless in the maze!