A houseboat. Finegan Fine

by Nancy Lieder

  old timer at the fringe.

  Finegan is desperate for a drink, the burning issue on his alcohol

  sopped mind. Of all the casualties in the flood, the disappearance of

  readily available booze has been the worst, to his way of thinking.

  Where you folks keep the still?

  The old timer laughs and points.

  Out yonder in the flood.

  9

  Chapter 2: Burial at Sea

  The following morning Finegan has a couple passengers on the houseboat.

  Joey is sleeping at the side of his dead grandpa, who has been wrapped

  in a sheet. Joey has one arm over the chest of the corpse, his head

  resting on grandpa’s shoulder despite the flies beginning to buzz

  about. Finegan is standing in the doorway of the house, arms folded,

  looking at the scene and pondering.

  Barney had been sleeping next to Joey, but looks up at Finegan

  expectantly. Feeling Barney move, Joey wakens. He points across the

  water.

  We lived over there, but yonder, behind that

  hill.

  Seeing the cloud of buzzing flies, Finegan is seeking a quick solution.

  You ever heard of burial at sea?

  Joey is clearly anxious about being separated from his only flesh and

  blood relative at hand, even if the flesh and blood are not too

  responsive.

  But then I could never go visit my granpa!

  Finegan unties the houseboat and peddals out into open water, away from

  any danger of sunken trees. Joey is at the front of the boat, holding

  onto one of the corner posts, pointing on occasion as he sees a

  landmark he recognizes.

  The corpse has been moved up to the front of the boat and positioned so

  it is sitting up, as though grandpa were participating in the

  homecoming. The flies have gotten thicker now, buzzing around in angry

  swarms.

  As the houseboat moves along in a parallel line to the new coastline,

  it rounds the hill Joey had been pointing to, and Joey can suddenly see

  the spot where his home used to be. He gets a stunned look on his face,

  stumbles backwards toward grandpa and falls into his lap. Joey is

  batting at the buzzing flies and starting to tear up. He scrambles to

  his feet and up onto the rooftop where he can face Finegan.

  That’s the house, there, in the water!

  The one-story suburban ranch house is situated on a hillside so that

  the basement is developed with a patio out into the backyard. The house

  is flooded to the extent that the basement is under water by a couple

  feet. The house appears to be deserted.

  10

  ______________________________

  Finegan and Joey slosh up toward the basement sliding doors. Joey is

  calling for his mom and dad, but the house is empty. Finegan pulls on

  the sliding doors and after a few tugs manages to get one to slide

  open. They wade into the basement, developed as a rec room with a pool

  table. Finegan heads straight toward the bar and begins rummaging

  around. He finds a half filled bottle of whiskey, and looks at it with

  satisfaction, puts it on the counter and checks for more.

  Joey is clamoring up the stairs in search of his family but returns,

  standing at the top of the stairs.

  They’re gone.

  Finegan has his whiskey bottle and some other booze he has located,

  half filled bottles, in an ice pail tucked under his arm as he mounts

  the stairs.

  Did they leave a note?

  The house has an open style, so there are no walls between the kitchen

  and living areas. Finegan and Joey are looking around on table tops,

  the refrigerator door, the bathroom mirror, and the kitchen counter

  top, but are finding no indication of anything but disorganized panic.

  Some items of clothing have been left on the sofa. A glass of juice

  sits half empty on the kitchen countertop.

  Finegan walks into the master bedroom but lingers in the doorway, as

  though not wanting to invade the sanctity of the marital bedroom. He

  notices a photo of the couple on their wedding day, and removes the

  photo from the frame, handing this to Joey.

  Here. Will come in handy. Tell folks what they

  look like.

  Joey is looking solemn. He takes the photo and stuffs it into his

  jacket pocket. Finegan brightens and turns, nodding in the direction of

  the kitchen.

  Lets see what else we can find that’ll be

  useful.

  Finegan puts a hand on Joey’s head, then pats Joey’s shoulder a few

  times.

  Anything special you’d like to take along?

  ______________________________

  Finegan and Joey are returning to the houseboat with their arms full of

  loot. They are wading in water that is waist-deep for Joey. Finegan

  11

  has several pots and pans and a coffeepot as well as his precious booze

  pail. He has tied all this together with a curtain cord, and slung the

  lot over his shoulder so he has a free arm to help Joey.

  Joey has a packet of clothing, tied like a Christmas package by another

  curtain cord. The packet includes his clothing - a change and clothing

  appropriate for various seasons - and a toy airplane, remote

  controlled, which is sticking out from the clothes. Joey has all this

  balanced on top of his head. He has changed into his swimming trunks,

  being practical, though is still wearing his jacket.

  Finegan heaves his booty onto the floor of the houseboat and helps Joey

  do the same with his parcel, giving Joey a hand up. Finegan wades back

  to unhook the grappling hooks tangled in the shrubbery where he has

  anchored the houseboat.

  Joey is standing shock still, staring at his seated grandpa. By now the

  corpse is almost covered with flies and various insects that are trying

  to find their way through the sheet that is covering the corpse like a

  mummy. Joey has become resigned. He turns to look over his shoulder

  toward Finegan, who is wading back with the grappling hooks held high.

  What was that about burial at sea?

  ______________________________

  The next morning Joey is standing over Finegan, who is passed out drunk

  on the deck of the houseboat. The ice pail and empty bottles are strewn

  about near him. Finegan is snoring loudly, sprawled on his back with

  both arms splayed out.

  Joey picks up the empty bottles and tosses them into the water, a

  disgusted look on his face, but Barney hobbles up to lick Finegan on

  the face. Giving up on Finegan, Joey walks off to the other side of the

  houseboat and grabs the net, Barney at his heels.

  Common Barney, lets go fish.

  ______________________________

  Joey is sorting through his catch, a conglomeration of small fish,

  crabs, twigs from trees, and the occasional coke bottle. He is tossing

  what he does not want back into the drink, and putting the flapping

  fish and snapping crabs into a box. Barney has his nose into the box,

  curious and explorative and perhaps a little hungry, but pulls back

  quickly when a fish flaps or a crab snaps.

  12

  Finegan shuffles to the front of the boat, holding onto supports as he

  goes, not too certai
n of his balance. He is shielding his eyes from the

  sunlight, although all days are gloomy and uniformly gray lately.

  Finegan is clearly hung over.

  I suppose you two want breakfast.

  Then, gulping a bit in trying to overcome the urge to upchuck, hand to

  mouth, he reconsiders.

  Listen, I’ll tell you what to do. You cook.

  Joey is lifting a pot of boiling water off an outdoor grill and placing

  it to the side on a folded cloth used as a hotpad. The portable outdoor

  grill has coals lit but is on the outer edge of the houseboat, where

  any chance of fire can be contained by pushing the lot over the edge. A

  bucket of cold water is nearby, as insurance. The houseboat is loaded

  with flammable material, and Finegan is no fool.

  Joey loads the grill with fish fillets and pokes a couple potatoes

  wrapped in aluminum foil into the coals, to bake. Barney is watching

  the cookout eagerly, sitting on his haunches, tongue out, panting and

  drooling, eyes watching every move Joey makes.

  Finegan has a pot of freshly brewed coffee on the deck beside him. He

  is holding a steaming mug of coffee in both hands, hunched over the mug

  and looking out over the water directly in front of him. He groans, and

  pushes himself up on one side, with one hand on one knee, the other

  hand still holding the mug. Finegan holds his breath for a minute, then

  winces. Hangovers can be a bitch.

  13

  Chapter 3: Good Hard Cash

  Water is splashing at the sides of the houseboat. Finegan and Joey are

  securing some gear as the wind has picked up. As Finegan heaves the

  fishing net up over the line reserved for drying the net, he catches

  sight of a pair of men in a rowboat.

  The rowboat is in the distance. One of the pair is standing and looking

  down into the water. The other, a diver, pops up, gasping for breath

  and holding onto the edge of the rowboat for a minute, then diving

  again. Finegan mutters under his breath.

  Hello, what’s this?

  Finegan’s curiosity finally gets the better of him. He waves his arms

  and shouts at the pair.

  Hello, need some help?

  The man standing in the boat glances up briefly and gives a weak wave

  back but is fixated on the spot where the diver disappeared.

  Seeing he is being ignored, Finegan unties the houseboat from the tree

  where it has been moored, and maneuvers the houseboat closer to the

  rowboat. Letting the houseboat drift, he leaves his seat at the paddle

  wheel and comes forward to engage the pair in the rowboat.

  What’s the problem?

  The man in the boat only glances up briefly, then back at the spot

  where the diver comes up for air periodically.

  There’s an outboard down there, and gasoline.

  Finegan points to the sky.

  You’ve got something better right at hand!

  Finegan disappears into the house, emerging with a tattered book on

  sailing. He is flipping pages, then holds the book up in the air,

  opened by his splayed fingers, pointing the illustrations at the pair

  in the rowboat. The diver has come up for air again and is clinging to

  the side of the rowboat.

  Finegan explains,

  You could rig a sail! There’s always a breeze

  out here. Look, I can help you. I’ve got the

  supplies right here.

  has billowed out in the evening breeze, and the rowboat is picking up

  speed as it moves toward the shoreline.

  14

  ______________________________

  The rowboat has been outfitted with a single sail, the supports nailed

  to the side of the rowboat with bracing at the bottom of the rowboat.

  The sail can swing from side to side to catch the breeze.

  As Finegan and Joey stand on the deck of the houseboat, waving goodby,

  the new sail has billowed out in the evening breeze, and the rowboat is

  picking up speed as it moves toward the shoreline.

  ______________________________

  Later that evening there are several popping noises on the shore, with

  lights that look like firecrackers briefly going off. These are not

  firecrackers, but gunshots. Finegan comes out to stand next to Joey and

  Barney, who have been sleeping on the deck. Finegan places his hand on

  Joey’s shoulder, shaking it gently, to waken him.

  Grab Barney and hold his mutt shut. There’s

  trouble.

  Joey wraps both legs around Barney, holding his mouth shut with one

  hand, while Barney looks up at Joey, his eyes big but trusting.

  ______________________________

  When Finegan has put some distance between the houseboat and the

  shoreline, he steps through the clutter, coming forward to see about

  breakfast. Joey is still seated with Barney, but no longer holding him

  so he can’t bark, the danger being past. But just as they are about to

  relax, Finegan freezes, looking off into the open water.

  Finegan points to a small yacht, seemingly adrift, not anchored. The

  houseboat is slowly drifting toward the yacht, due to momentum from the

  trip into open water. Finegan steps back and ducks into the house. He

  pulls a pistol out of a drawer and stuffs it into the back of his pants

  at the waistline.

  Stepping back onto the deck to stand behind Joey and Barney, Finegan

  places his hand on Joey’s shoulder.

  Somethin’ doesn’t smell right about this.

  As the houseboat drifts up to almost touch the side of the yacht, a man

  stumbles out of the cabin, whiskey bottle in hand, staggering slightly.

  He is wearing a sweaty white t-shirt and blue casual pants. Two women

  emerge behind him, still in nightgowns. Finegan introduces himself.

  15

  Ahoy! Finegan Fine here, trader.

  The yachtsman says,

  We’re looking for food, fresh food. Sent a man

  over to the mainland last night to look for

  some and ain’t seen him since.

  Finegan asks,

  At night?

  Aggravated at having been challenged, as it is obvious they didn’t

  intend any but theft of someone else’s food cache, the yachtsman

  replies,

  Aaaaahhh. We didn’t want any trouble, ya know?

  The yachtsman loses his balance and falls against the cabin, bouncing

  back out onto the railing, which he grabs to right himself.

  You got any food?

  Finegan is playing along.

  Plenty. Potatoes, onions, some cabbage, and

  fish fresh from last night.

  Finegan glances at the rear of the yacht, which doesn’t seem to have

  any fishing apparatus. It’s a pleasure craft, not for fishing.

  You don’t fish?

  The yachtsman is surly.

  We had supplies.

  Where he bends over backwards for good folk, Finegan has a distinct

  dislike of those who think the world owes them a living.

  What have you got in exchange?

  The yachtsman digs in his pocket and pulls out a roll, waving it in the

  air.

  Good hard cash.

  The yachtsman’s wife, the older of the two women, looks horrified that

  he is drunk and waving money around in front of a stranger. She puts

  her hand on his arm, attempting to pull it
down out of sight. He shakes

  off her hand, annoyed. Finegans says,

  Can’t use that.

  The yachtsman gets belligerent.

  It’s good hard cash!

  Finegan shakes his head and points to the half-empty whiskey bottle the

  yachtsman has been waving around.

  I’ll take one of those, a full one, and some

  antibiotics if you have any. I’ll toss in some

  applies for the pills.

  The yachtsman ponders the deal for a moment, then turns to the women

  standing to the side in their nightdresses. They look at him

  expectantly, obviously wanting the deal to go through.

  16

  The yachtsman waves his arm toward the deck between he and the women.

  Bring the stuff on up here then.

  Finegan is not putting himself in that position.

  You have one of them come down here to pick it

  up.

  Finegan leans to the side, murmuring to Joey that he should get some

  used plastic grocery store bags from the house. He is motioning to the

  vegetable bins and the fish box on the deck, giving instructions.

  The daughter of the yachtsman, the younger of the pair, slips into the

  cabin and returns dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, barefoot. She has a

  bottle of whiskey and a small bottle of pills in her hands. She tosses

  the whiskey to Finegan and climbs down the metal ladder at the side of

  the yacht to hand him the bottle of pills. Finegan examines the bottle

  and nods to Joey. Finegan has not turned his back on the yacht the

  whole time.

  Joey is stuffing vegetables into the bags. He pulls out a large cabbage

  from one bin, the outer leaves curling and turning brown on the edges.

  He pulls out a few apples, wrinkled from dehydration. He bags several