No Dominion

by Charlie Huston

  He picks up his glasses, starts to give them a wipe.

  —What really got the ball rolling was when Predo got hip to Vandewater’s plans. Once he was on to that? Once he knew about The Count being down here? Once that happened, there were some pieces to start moving around. Like, Predo tells me about The Count, about him being a plant down here, Vandewater’s pet project. Predo sacrifices that pawn, and I flip him. I act like I just ESPed him out, and put him in a corner. I give him a little clarity about where he is and how he can save himself. I use him to point you uptown. All that took, once he knew what to do himself, all that took was making sure Philip Sax knew him a little. Something goes down, Joe, you always start shoving Phil around. That kind of, I don’t know, street corner imperialism, it never works to the oppressor’s advantage, you know.

  I stare at him.

  He shrugs.

  —Anyways, once you were headed up, there were only so many ways for you to go. And we were watching, covering the routes. And Digga was waiting. Except.

  He pinches his lower lip.

  —What went down with you and Daniel. I didn’t call that one, you going to him. I thought, you know, you’d come to me for the passage. What was that about? Daniel give you a name or something?

  I watch him, his line in the water, fishing.

  He raises his hand, glasses dangling from his fingers.

  —Cool. Cool. You got business with Daniel, that’s not the kind of thing to go public with. No problem.

  He puts the glasses back on.

  —It all worked out anyway. Predo had all the lines covered. And, hey, I don’t, you know, saying I don’t like the man is an understatement, but Predo, he kicked in. Sacrificing that enforcer, just to, you know, help set the scene and give Digga some leverage, that was commitment to the good of the whole.

  —If you say so.

  —Well, just one man’s, you know, opinion. So then Digga. Digga catches you up there. Plays some scenes, works a little on your head. Makes an impression. Once that impression is made, he makes sure you know what you’re after, points you at Vandewater. And, well, the details are complicated, but you got worked into her plan.

  —Say what?

  —Her plan. She’s, you know, doing her own thing completely separate from our gig. Mind you, man, there was a time, not too long ago, there was a time she would have been onto us from the start. But she’s gotten too narrow-minded, too focused on that whole racism thing. How’s that supposed to work? How’s that not like willfully blinding yourself to the big picture? She just doesn’t see the whole anymore. Anyway, what she thinks is, she thinks she’s letting you go to come down here to rock my boat.

  —Letting me go? Lady got a stomach full of bullets.

  —Uh-huh, I hear you.

  —I pumped her full of anathema.

  —Yeah.

  —Terry, I bit her fucking eye out.

  —Sure, sure, I know.

  —She did not let me go.

  —Well, you know, like I said, it’s complicated. And you shouldn’t feel bad about the way you handled yourself, but, yeah, she let you go.

  —Bull.

  —Let’s just agree on that one for now, man. The real point is that she’s so blinded by her narrow mindedness, she can’t see that letting you go is not gonna rock my boat, it’s gonna rock her whole world. ’Cause she just handed you the evidence Digga’ll use to take care of Papa. Now, did she know Papa’s man would be lame enough to shoot and nod off in her basement? No. But that’s just a bonus to the fact that you have witnessed the whole scene up there. Digga is all set up now to confront Predo about the anathema in a public forum. And once public pressure is on Predo to deal with this, with the reemergence of anathema on his watch, he can publicly reprimand Vandewater and strip her of some of her powers. Curb her independence and install some of his own people up in the Morningside Settlement. And that leaves the Society’s needs. Digga puts you on a train. Truth is, he wanted you up there a little longer to corroborate some of the details of what was going down. You wanting to roll so soon threw things a little, but we got it back on track. Predo cleared the rails. I held Tom off until you could confront The Count. The Count played his scene for you. And I sent Hurley along with Tom to make sure you both ended up back here in one piece. After that, it’s just a matter of The Count doing his thing and waiting for you to chime in with the truth. Or, you know, the truth as you know it to be. Which is kinda, when you get right down to it, all the truth ever is anyway.

  He lifts his hands from the table and drops them back down.

  —And that’s how things work sometimes. Not always. Just sometimes. Believe me, you don’t want to be trying to keep all those balls in the air too often. But sometimes the stars align. And sometimes, this picture we’re trying to put together, this image of the infected in the world, sometimes it takes a different kind of cooperation than most people want to know about. It’s not that people don’t believe in what they say they believe in, it’s just that sometimes you need to bend so you don’t break. The weather isn’t always what you want it to be, Joe. Sometimes, got to make it yourself. Got to make the rain to get the crops to grow. That’s just pragmatic.

  I think about Tom, the true believer, his final legacy being that he was a spy.

  —That it is.

  I look around the room.

  —And Lydia?

  He shakes his head.

  —No way, man. Lydia is pure. She, you just know she could never take this kind of scene. Moral absolutes, that’s her thing. It’s right or it’s wrong. No, Lydia played her part, but she didn’t know she was.

  —Where is she now?

  —She’s out rallying her people. They’re, you know, pretty neutral as far as intra-Clan issues go. We thought it’d be a good idea if they kind of helped get the word out. Make sure, I don’t know, that the message being heard is the right one. That kind of thing.

  —And what’s the message?

  He raises his shoulders, lets them drop.

  —Well, you know, man, you were here. We’re not really trying to hide anything.

  —What’s the message, Terry?

  —The message is, Everything’s cool. There was some trouble, but now it’s all cool.

  —What kind of trouble?

  —Well, we thought it best to leave out all the Coalition stuff. That kind of thing’s just gonna stir up bad feelings. So, you know, attempted coup. Not pretty, but an internal matter. No hard feelings to anyone or anything. Something that happens in any revolutionary movement.

  —Sure, sure, just the price of doing business.

  —The price of politics, anyway.

  I fit a cigarette to the corner of my mouth.

  —Yeah, politics. Politically speaking, you came out of this in pretty good shape.

  —Well, I don’t know if I’d say that. Narrowly averting a coup. Discovering a Coalition plot at the heart of our Clan. Losing one of our highest placed members. I don’t know that that adds up to a good day for the Society and all.

  I light up.

  —Yeah, taken that way, I guess maybe not. However.

  I look for a place to drop the spent match, settle on the floor.

  —Taken the other way, it worked out pretty well.

  Terry bends and picks up the match.

  —What way is that, Joe?

  —The way where the truth is involved.

  He walks to the sink and drops the match.

  —Well, it’s a realpolitik world. The truth doesn’t always will out, you know.

  He goes to the fridge.

  —Tell me, Terry.

  He opens the fridge, back to me, lips zipped.

  —Was this the way you had it figured from the top? I mean, when I came wandering in here looking for a gig and you sent me looking for the anathema, was this the way you had it in mind?

  He looks at me over his shoulder.

  —You need some?

  I flex my hands, the dry white skin over
my knuckles cracks.

  —I’m not thirsty right now.

  He sighs.

  —You’re a better man than I.

  He comes back to the table, a pint of blood in his hand.

  —Me, I need a drink.

  He takes a penknife from his pocket and pokes a hole in the bag.

  —I need it something fierce.

  He takes a drink.

  I blow smoke.

  He points at it.

  —That’s not a habit you should be getting into, smoking in here. It’s special circumstances tonight, but in general, not the way we do it.

  I keep smoking.

  He nods.

  —Joe, it did get a little more complicated than I thought it might. I mean, you heard the story. I’m, you know, still waiting for a loose end to come around and get me.

  He drinks. A little shudder runs down his body.

  —Never get used to it, you know? Never. No matter how long it’s been, no matter how many times I’ve felt it, I’ve never gotten used to how good it goes down. How many other things are like that? How many things in life that you just don’t get tired of?

  —You tell me.

  He takes another drink.

  —Not too many, man, not too many at all.

  He drains the rest of the bag, folds it neatly, sets it on the table in front of him.

  —So. How I had it figured, what I knew I could count on?

  He looks at me.

  —How I had it figured was you’d dig around. Being you, you’d, you know, keep digging. Dig and dig and dig until you hit something that stopped you, and then you’d try to dig through it. Knowing that, well, I, you know, guessed it’d be just a matter of time before you dug up Tom.

  I smoke.

  —Yeah, I get that. A matter of time seeing the way you guys had things all set up, anyway. Pretty fucked up, Terry. All the way around.

  —You know what, Joe? You got that right.

  He scratches the side of his nose.

  —Know what else is fucked up?

  —What’s that?

  —Think about it.

  —About?

  He taps his forehead.

  —Think for a second. It won’t take long.

  I think. I think about the story he just told me. And I get it.

  I have my gun. Terry gave it back before I went out with Hurley. I’ve used it since then. I reach for it.

  I hear a noise. Terry shakes his head. His hand under the table, holding the sawed-off double-barrel that’s taped there. The one I’ve just heard him cock.

  —Easy, Joe.

  I take my hand off my gun.

  He nods.

  —Cool, man. That’s it. Let me show you something.

  He brings up his hands. Brings them up empty.

  —Nobody here, man. Just me and you. You want to hold your piece on me while we talk, go ahead.

  I do want to hold my piece on him. So I pull it and point it.

  He smiles.

  —Well, shit, what did I expect, right? Offer a guy like you a chance to invest in some mutual trust, I get what I deserve, right?

  —What the fuck, Terry? What the fuck with telling me that story? That’s like a goddamn death sentence.

  He runs a hand over the top of his head.

  —Just trying to get your attention, Joe.

  —Trying to get my? Fuck that. You’re trying to. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s fucked up whatever it is.

  —Well, that is one possible interpretation of events.

  —Fuck you. I’m a Rogue. I can’t get away with knowing that shit.

  —Yes, you are. You are a Rogue.

  He puts his glasses back on.

  —Then again, what if things were, you know, different?

  I start to smell it now. He sees me smelling it.

  —No.

  —Just hear me out. Just, you know, give this a listen.

  —No.

  —Joe.

  He leans forward.

  —You have the gun, but you’re in my place. Hear me out.

  Shit.

  I put the gun away. For as much good as it will do me now.

  He rubs his hands together.

  —OK. OK. That’s cool. Now we can really rap, really get into it. OK. So, you’ve been asking some interesting questions here. Some deep stuff. Stuff that gets right down there in the roots, down where you don’t go swinging away, hacking things to bits. Cut the wrong bit, the whole tree dies. Thing is, being around as long as you have, you’ve ended up mixed up in some pretty serious stuff the last couple years. Gotten some pretty deep knowledge on your own. That’s what happens. You last long enough, you’re going to get sucked into some stuff. Period. Can’t get around that. There are only so many of us. Only so many who have some staying power. Sooner or later, you’re going to get involved. Just, for just a second, just think about who you met the last couple days. Think about the people you met last year. Think about the kind of juice those people squeeze. Think about, about the things you know now, about how stuff works, the things you didn’t know last year. Seriously, think.

  He shuts up and watches me.

  And I think.

  I think about it. And it scares me.

  He nods.

  —Right? Got it? See what I mean? Hey, man, not everybody spends their time rapping with DJ Grave Digga and Dexter Predo and me and old lady Vandewater. And let’s not even talk about how you have something going with Daniel. Any idea how many people get a repeat audience with him? How many survive the first one? That is, you know, a very short list. You’re, whether you like it or not, and for lack of a better word, you’re becoming a player.

  He raises a finger.

  —And check this out. For every little detail you’ve picked up, there’s a whole mosaic attached to it. You just can’t see it yet. Keep going, you’re gonna see more. But, you being a Rogue and all, not everyone is going to be happy about your growing understanding of, you know, how we do things. A Rogue has no loyalty. You don’t know where he’s going to go, which way he’ll jump. That puts people, I don’t know, on edge. Joe, I’m not gonna lie, it harshes my mellow, too. A good mellow is hard to come by. Security, can’t pay enough to have it. And, well, that’s kind of it. If your knowing things, combined with your being a Rogue, if that unsettles people? Sooner or later someone’s going to deal with that. Screw the metaphors, someone’s going to put you in the sun. Like Tom. And for the same reason: because he was harshing everybody’s mellow.

  He leans back.

  —Which is why I can sit here and offer you a job I know you don’t want.

  —I said, no.

  —Joe, man, it doesn’t have to be like the old days. I mean, today, yeah, man, that was bad karma all the way around. But it’s not really like it used to be. Mostly, it’s just showing yourself in the neighborhood. Keeping an eye on things. Pretty much the kind of stuff you do on your own. And, you know, if someone does get out of line, sure, that would be down to you. But you make the call. With this job, you have the license to, well let’s just say it like it is, you have a license to fuck people up. You employ it as you see fit. Straight up. Tom sucked at the job. You, you’re a natural. We both know that.

  I pick up my gun. Put it back in my belt.

  —No.

  I stand up.

  He stands up.

  —Joe, come on, I know you, man. You like to know what’s up. You got to pick a scab, man. Well this job puts you on the inside, where things happen.

  I turn to the door.

  —No.

  Like that, he’s in front of me.

  —Please, man. I’m telling you, it’s not, like, a threat or anything, but I’m telling you, it can’t go on like it has. Not now. Me, I can play it as loose as you. I dig that. But Digga? Predo? They won’t have it. Not like this. You have to come back inside, Joe. It’s down to that. In or out.

  I think about trying to go through him. I think about going ou
t like that, taking the head of a Clan with me. My old buddy.

  I pull another smoke from my pack and light it with a match.

  I think about the gutted lighter I abandoned at Vandewater’s. Have to get a new one. They take weeks to break in, to get the action on the hinge loosened up so it will pop open with a snap of your fingers. The old one was just right.

  I smoke.

  Terry stands there, watches me. I watch him back. He’s in no hurry. There’s a clock built into the face of the stove. I look at it. It’s getting late.

  I think about last year. How close I came to dying. Dying ugly. I think about the last forty-eight hours. How close. I think about how it’s hard enough day by day without this kind of crazy shit blowing up in your face. I think about that lousy fucking job. Security. What that job was like when I had it before.

  The whip in my hand.

  I think about the part of me that likes the way it feels. The part my father and mother cut into me.

  Terry, waiting.

  Shit.

  —No.

  He sags, nods his head.

  —I did my best.

  He steps aside.

  I go for the door.

  —Joe.

  I stop.

  —You want to buy a little extra goodwill down here, you can do me a favor.

  I turn my head.

  —What’s that?

  He goes to the fridge, comes out with the bag of anathema.

  —Drop something off for me.

  It’s not an errand I’m looking forward to. But I’ll be needing every last scrap of goodwill Terry’s willing to dole out. Every scrap while I figure where to run to.

  Also, I have a couple questions left. Terry left some gaps around this part. The part where everything connects.

  And he was right, I do like to pick a scab.