He leads Cullen outside at gunpoint and walks him to some secluded murdering spot. He says he knows about the men Cullen killed in Maryland. He read about him killing the soldier with his Griswold. Someone at the scene recognized a Griswold on sight, from a distance, while they were fleeing for their lives? It was probably that nun. Johnson puts the rest of the pieces together for us: "I'll be damned if you didn't show up a few days later with a Griswold strapped to your hip as plain as day. Then you asked me about Meridian? That cinched it." Johnson says he's not proud of what happened to Cullen's wife. Cullen corrects him: "It didn't happen to her -- you did it to her." Johnson admits to his guilt. He seems genuinely pained for what he did. He says she was just in the wrong place. "I want you to know it wasn't my idea to kill her," Johnson says. Cullen frowns and asks, "She hung herself?" Johnson looks started by the stupidity of the question. He explains it was the Sergeant who killed her. This comes as news to Cullen. Johnson says the Sergeant is out here and figured Cullen was saving him for last. Johnson's just about to give up the man's identity, figuring he's about to kill Cullen anyway, but then Elam pops up out of nowhere with that freshly honed knife of his. Cullen cries out, but too late: Elam slits Johnson's throat. Surprisingly, it's blood that pours from the wound and not pure rotgut. "Tell me his name," Cullen begs as Johnson slumps to the ground. But Johnson is too busy dying to do anything but gurgle.
Now we come to the craziest part of the episode. Doc's well-appointed train heads West. He sits in his armchair, sipping liquor from a fine crystal tumbler. "Is it a villain you want?" he asks. There appears to be no one else in the car with him. Occasionally he'll look at a fixed point as if talking to someone, but he could be looking at a mirror for all we know. Or an imaginary friend. He goes on: "I'll play the part. After all, what is a drama without a villain, and what is the building of this grand road if not a drama?" He takes a long breath. "This business is not for the weak of heart." The scene cuts to the recently baptized Joseph arriving on horseback at the site of the survey team's massacre. "It's a thorny, brutal affair," Doc says in voice-over, "that rewards the lion for his ferocity." Joseph picks up an arrow and looks grim. Back on Doc's train and impromptu zoology lesson: "And what of the poor zebra? Well, the zebra's eaten as the zebra should be." Now we see Lily trudging through a field of wildflowers, clutching the precious maps. Doc goes on about spilling blood and making fortunes. "There will be betrayal and scandal!" Thanks for outlining the season for us, Doc Meta. "All of history is driven by the lion," he goes on. "We drag the poor zebra kicking and braying, staining the earth with his cheap blood." As he's waxing batshit insane, the transient town of Hell on Wheels is packing up and moving further west with the progressing rail construction. In the distance, a dog lifts his leg and pees on a patch of ground. He's not as fond of mixed-up monologues as I am. Doc accepts his role in the story: "History won't remember us fondly, but then, history is written by the zebra for the zebra." What's black and white and red all over? History's first draft, with the zebra editor's marks. ("Make the lion drunker! And crazier!") Doc goes on, seeing into the future some 100 years hence: "I will be remembered as a caitiff, a malefactor who only operated out of greed for personal gain." You'll also be remembered for your impressive vocabulary and your weird animal metaphors. He says that without him and others like him, the railroad wouldn't be built.