– S'a pretty good tap, all tings considered like.
– But was it by the book?
There's silence and I can hear Hurley's brain grinding away on that one. Probably trying to remember what a book is.
– Not da way Terry likes it done. Dat's why I sapped 'im.
– OK.
She turns back to Tom.
– So now what?
– Now what? Now we question the cocksucker.
– Tom!
– Sorry, sorry. You know me and my anarchists are sympathetic to the gay and lesbian community. It just slipped out.
– Slip it back in.
She walks out of view. Tom starts stirring his stinky pot again.
– Anyway, when he wakes up we put a rubber hose on him and see what starts to pour out.
– I'm awake, Tom.
He spins around.
– How long, asshole, how long you been spying?
– You mean, how long have I been awake and trying to get back to sleep so I don't have to listen to your crap?
He comes over to the closet, close enough so that all I can see through the crack is the leg of his crusty jeans.
– That's right, smart-ass, keep fucking jerking my chain. See what it gets you.
– Hey, Tom, I'd never jerk your chain. That's Terry's job.
– OK, that's it. You fucking asked and now you're going to fucking receive.
He starts unlocking the door. -Please, man, have Hurley knock me out again so I can get some fucking rest.
The lock snaps open and I hear a chain rattling. I roll onto my back, knees tucked up against my chest.
– Hurley's not gonna do a goddamn thing, smart guy, I'm gonna take care of business myself this time.
– You planning on taking off my cuffs?
– Whatever way you want it.
The door swings open. I jackrabbit him, kicking out with both feet, and catch him in the gut. He woofs and stumbles back into the room. A spindly chair catches him across the back of the knees and splinters under his weight as he crashes on top of it. I shove myself back up on my ass and lean out the door of the closet and hold my cuffed hands out.
– Hey, Tom, I'd help you up if I didn't have these things on.
– That's it, cocksucker.
He comes at me fast. The only thing I have time for is to regret that I have such a big fucking mouth.
I try kicking him again, hoping to knock his legs out and get him down on the floor where I can wrap the cuff chain around his neck and maybe crush his windpipe. It doesn't work. He dodges the kick easily, grabs the front of my jacket, lifts me off the floor, and starts pummeling my face. Lydia grabs him and pulls him off of me almost immediately, but he's already jackhammered me ten or eleven times. I fall in a heap. Blood I can't afford to lose runs from my nose and mouth. Tom lunges at me again and Lydia easily shoves him back.
– Fuck do you think you're doing, cunt?
Her bodybuilder shoulders bunch, but her voice is calm.
– Watch the language.
– Stop telling me how to fucking talk, dyke!
– Tom, if you say girl, chick, lady, bitch, cocksucker, fag, lesbo, dyke, queer or cunt one more time, not only am I going to beat the sperm out of you, I'm going to have a couple shemale Vamps I know find you in an alley some night and open your back door. Wide.
He makes his move, and bounces off Hurley who is suddenly between them.
– Terry would'nae want yous two fightin'.
I'm on my side, spitting and snorting blood.
– Yeah, guys, dad's gonna be mad when he gets home and sees you can't get along.
Tom just about jumps out of his shoes trying to get at me, but Hurley puts a hand on his shoulder and he freezes. Hurley turns his head and looks at me.
– Maybe you best oughta shut yer trap, Joe.
I'm looking at the little puddle of blood on the floor in front of my face and thinking about sucking it up.
– Yeah, yeah, maybe you're right, Hurl. Hell, even you can have a good idea sometimes.
He grunts.
– 'Member dat last time ya smarted off, Joe?
– Yeah.
– I wuz gentle on ya dat time.
I shut up. He looks from Lydia to Tom.
– Yous two oughta shake hands, show dere ain't no hard feelin's.
Tom groans.
– Fucking come on.
Lydia sticks her hand out.
– He's right, Tom. We're all on the same side here. We can't let our tempers get the better of us.
She's smiling at him. He takes her hand. She squeezes. It's not obvious, Hurley misses it. Tom yanks his hand back and takes a swipe at her.
– Fuckin' bitch!
Hurley blocks the punch and gives Tom a gentle push that sends him reeling to the far wall.
– OK, Tom, take a walk.
– The fuck?
– Terry would'nae like dis. So take a walk, get some air.
– It's light out.
– So go upstairs.
– But that fucking-
Hurley raises a finger.
– OK, that's cool, that's cool, I'm cool. I'll go up. But I want that fucking spy back in his cell.
Hurley shrugs.
– Sure.
He takes two steps, scoops me up and dumps me back in the closet. The door closes and the chain is drawn back into place. I hear Tom start up the basement steps and then stop.
– Lydia, you're right, we're on the same side. I'll remember that, baby.
A door opens and closes and he's gone. A chair creeks heavily as Hurley sits down.
– See, dat's better. Everybody gettin' along.
– He says he's an anarchist, but really he's a fascist. You know he wanted uniforms? He actually wanted to get T-shirts or armbands or something for all the members of the Society. Not only that, but he wanted affiliations to be indicated on the uniforms, different symbols depending on whether you're one of his Anarchists or in the Lesbian, Gay and Other-Gendered Alliance or the Communist Manifesto or whatever your Society Affiliate might be. He said it would make for unity, so we could identify one another on the street. What he's really after is a system of classification. He wants to know where his enemies are so he can take care of them when he's ready. And he says he backs the goals of the LGOGA, but I can tell we freak him out. I mean, before I got infected, the infected queers weren't even organized, let alone represented on the council. Now he has us in his face at every meeting. Little fascist prick. And he's making a bid for Security Chief? He's already half a Stalin. Give him a badge and he'll go full-blown Hitler.
She's sitting at the table out there, eating a bowl of whatever veggie stew Tom had been mixing up.
– If he ever does take charge of security he's not gonna be too happy about having you around, Hurley. He likes using your muscle now, but if he gets the chance, he'll have his Anarchists in jackboots and carrying truncheons and he won't need your help knocking people out. That's why we need to keep an eye on each other's backs.
– I keep a eye on everybody's back, Lydia. Jus' like Terry tells me to.
– Yes, but are Terry's interests yours? Are you going to spend your whole life letting him make decisions for you?
– It's worked OK so far.
– Yes, I see that, but-
I can't listen to this with the cramps hitting me. One or the other, but please not both. I decide to do something about it.
– Hey, Lydia.
Silence.
– Lydia.
– What?
– There's nothing I'd like more than to listen to you trying to make Hurley understand the politics of personal empowerment, but I'm hurting a little in here.
– Yeah, you looked a little rough around the edges.
– Maybe I could get that blood I tapped.
– Sorry, Joe, that's Exhibit A in Tom's case against you. As much as I hate the little prick I can't mess with evidence.
– Got any you could spare?
– No.
– Uh-huh. Well seeing as I'm all cuffed up maybe you could let me out of here.
– No. I think you're going to have to stay in there until Terry gets back from the Hood.
– Any idea when that's gonna be?