No Dominion

– No! No! Don’t let him up! No! He’ll kill me! No!

Terry stands, arms held out.

– Cool it! Everybody just needs to cool it. Kid! Kid! Count! Dude, cool it. No one is gonna hurt you. Just cool it.

The Count freezes, eyes big in his head. He’s stopped screaming. Mumbling now, whispering.

– Oh, shit, oh shit. I’m gonna die. I don’t wanna die. Oh shit.

– Cool it. Calm down, man.

The Count goes silent except for the crying.

Tom is another matter.

– Get your fucking foot off me, you fucking stupidass retard.

Hurley looks at Terry.

Terry walks over and looks down at Tom.

– Be cool, Tom. This is a tense situation, I know, but we’re gonna sort it. Don’t take it out on Hurley.

– Fuck you, Terry. Get him the fuck off of me.

– You gonna be cool?

Tom opens and closes his mouth a few times, takes some deep breaths.

– Yeah. I’m gonna be cool. Now. Get. Him. Off. Me.

Terry nods.

– OK, cool. Let him up, Hurley. And those guys are OK, you don’t have to cover them.

Hurley takes his foot off Tom’s chest and lowers his guns. But he doesn’t put them away, just moves to the door so no one can get out without going through him.

Tom jumps up and takes a step toward The Count.

– You fucker.

Terry comes between them.

– Cool. Remember?

Tom turns and walks to the other side of the room, closer to his partisans.

– Yeah. Cool. Fine. Long as I don’t have to hear more of that shit.

Terry nods.

– Sure, sure. But, you know, let’s just look into this. See where The Count is coming from.

He faces The Count.

– What’s it about? An accusation like that, that’s a pretty big deal, you know? Could get you in a lot of trouble.

The Count rolls his eyes.

– Trouble? I’m in trouble, man. What do you think? Man, that’s why. Don’t you know what?

– Cooool. Easy. Breathe a little.

– Little lying fucker.

– Tom! Cool it.

The Count breathes.

Terry puts a hand on his shoulder.

– So what’s up here? What’s got you spooked enough to try a story like that?

– Story? Man. Story? You want a story? OK, try this. Tom is the fucking dealer. Tom is the hookup for all of downtown.

– This is such fucking!

– Hurley.

Hurley holds up one of his pistols and presses it to his lips.

– Tom, shhhh.

Tom shuts up.

Terry pats The Count.

– And?

– And. And. Oh shit. You guys. You’re gonna. Just. Look. All I want is. I’ll tell you everything, man. It’s gonna come out. All I want is, keep him away from me. And. And when you do me. Don’t let me burn. Just. Not the sun. Something. But not the sun.

– Hey, hey. We’ll talk about executions, all that, you know, later. But, we’re not gonna burn anyone.

– OK. OK. I’m. OK. So. I, you know, I have some money, I like a good time. The other fish, they know that. So I have a lot of friends. Tom, he, you know, he’s the guy who gets the shit. Me, I’m the guy helps to hook him up with other fish, other kids.

Tom’s not even trying to talk now, just staring, jaw hanging, face going from red to white and back again.

– Tom brings it in, and I help to hook up the customers.

– OK. So Tom brought it in. You helped. Why? You don’t need money.

– No. It’s. Oh shit. It’s for the Coalition. Tom’s a fucking mole for the Coalition.

Tom coughs. Laughs. Laughs some more. He shakes his head. Starts to breathe normally again. It’s too outrageous. Hearing it, it’s too much to believe.

The look The Count is getting from Terry is the look you give someone when the lie they’re telling is so over the top you have to listen out of sheer awe.

– Wow. OK. That’s, wow, that’s pretty big. That would be a pretty big deal. So he, what? He told you? He told you he was a Coalition mole and he was, I don’t know, bringing this shit in to undermine the Society. Is that how this stuff works?

– No. I. No.

– No. OK. OK. You, like, you found out. You found out and you were outraged and now you’re telling us, that it?

– No.

– OK. Well, I don’t know, man, you tell me what the story is. How’d you find this out?

The Count starts to cry again.

– Because I’m a spy, man. I’m a fucking Coalition agent. Don’t you. Maaaan. You’re being sold out. There’s a deal. Tom helps to bring you down, man, he does that, sets up an alliance with the Coalition and they let him run the turf. I know. I made the contact, man. I’m a spy. I’m a spy. Just don’t. God, please. Don’t burn me, man. Don’t burn me.

Terry straightens up. He looks at Tom.

– Wow. How about that?

Tom is shaking his head.

– Fucking spies, man. What a load. That, see, that’s how the Coalition works. That’s how they fucking plan to undermine us. By attacking our unity. That kind of creepy bullshit.

The Count isn’t done.

– He told me. He said I was supposed to tell a story about Joe. Say Joe was the dealer, say he was the spy. I was supposed to do it here. In front of the council. He told me to act like I was unconscious until the council was in session. Then tell this story. Tell it in front of everybody, that it was Joe, and that you knew. Tell ’em that you knew. So he could, he could have you removed. Have you executed and take the chair, man. He. He would have killed me after. He would have. He’s a fucking.

He turns his eyes on Tom.

– You fucking sadist! You sick son of a bitch! That shit you did to me! You fucking! You die! I don’t care anymore! Burn me! Burn me! Just burn him next to me so I can watch!

It’s more than a guy like Tom can take.

Terry takes care of him this time, has him on the ground almost as quickly as Hurley did. The partisans want to help their leader, but what are you supposed to do with Hurley and Lydia in your face?

The Count sobs.