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A houseboat. Finegan Fine

Page 4

by Nancy Lieder


  that they need to make their own way and not expect help. He shrugs,

  acknowledging the situation. The camp mistress addresses the

  passengers.

  Where you from?

  One of the women points out across the water toward what is now ocean

  in the direction of what used to be Florida. The camp mistress is used

  to traffic from Florida.

  Ummm . . Well most from Florida went up to

  Atlanta, but I’d not advise it.

  The passengers look puzzled over this statement, so the camp mistress

  explains.

  Well, the riots and all. Heard about those.

  Best to stay away from the cities. They got

  zombies there.

  As the couple turns to return to the bonfire the camp mistress looks

  over her shoulder, calling back with a wave toward the bonfire.

  But you can stay here.

  The passengers are frozen, not sure how to proceed, so Finegan breaks

  the spell by moving forward cheerfully.

  Common Joey, lets see what’s to eat. Got those

  peaches?

  Joey has a sack of peaches and another of pecans, their contribution to

  the communal supper. Joey runs ahead to give these to the camp

  mistress.

  The passengers trail along behind Finegan. As they arrive at the

  bonfire, they are greeted by others who have been alerted by the camp

  mistress. Some put their arms around shoulders to comfort. One of the

  passengers breaks down and is hugged by another woman.

  Finegan drifts off to the side with Joey to discuss business and see

  what the group might have for barter. He puts his hand out to shake

  another man’s hand. Then he grabs the hand of a smiling flirtatious

  woman nearby and swings her out into the dance area in front of the

  fire, stomping and swinging.

  Joey continues to shake hands and introduce himself. He pulls the photo

  of his parents out of his pocket and shows it around. Those who look at

  the photo are shaking their heads.

  ______________________________

  26

  Barney is sleeping in the doorway of the houseboat, guarding the two

  inside. An empty whiskey bottle is on the floor next to Finegan, who is

  snoring.

  The camp mistress is walking quietly through the dewy grass to the

  waters edge, and up the plank. She has come to warn Finegan. Finegan

  gets up, groggy. The camp mistress points at Joey.

  Keep that youngster close now, yahear? We’ve

  had reports of kids goin’ missing.

  Finegan raises an eyebrow, and nods.

  27

  Jury of Peers

  The houseboat is traveling up the middle of a broad river, thick with

  trees along both banks. Dead tree branches are standing like black, wet

  soldiers at arms, so thick in places no approach to shore is readily

  available. Finegan has Joey at his usual post atop the roof of the

  house. Finegan points ahead, along one side of the river.

  What’s that up there? Looks like a shack.

  Finegan slows his peddling, letting the houseboat drift. Several young

  children are seen in the yard of the shack, clustered together. Finegan

  sees a place where some high ground is jutting out into the river,

  where one could walk ashore. He points in that direction, soundlessly,

  wanting to go ashore to see if something might be amiss. Why are there

  no adults around?

  Finegan peddles quietly and steers with the rudder, while Joey hops to

  the front of the houseboat to throw a rope over a sturdy branch. They

  are downriver from the shack, and have apparently not been seen by

  anyone. Holding onto a branch, Finegan swings down onto the finger of

  land. He is holding onto branches as he goes along the land projection,

  stepping gingerly. He makes his way to the riverbank and up along the

  bank toward the shack.

  Finegan walks up to a chicken-wire cage, strung from one tree to

  another and nailed firmly. The only opening is at a door of the shack,

  so there is no escape from the cage. The chicken wire seems to be

  buried in the ground, as well as strung overhead, so climbing or

  tunneling are not a ready option either. Finegan walks up to the fence,

  curling his fingers through the chicken wire, tugging it slightly,

  testing. It is immediately apparent that this is not a yard meant to

  28

  keep children at play from falling into the river. Something else is

  afoot.

  The half dozen children huddled in the center are young, 3 years of age

  to a girl of 7 years or so. They are thin, very pale, very dirty, and

  wearing tattered clothes. Because the children have fallen silent,

  Finegan’s presence has been noted. The main door of the shack opens and

  a hag emerges.

  Hey! You looking to buy?

  The hag is thin, wrinkled, toothless, and has long greasy hair hanging

  straight down, some strands in front of her face. Her clothes hang on

  her, as though she has lost weight. She wears bedroom slippers and

  socks that are falling down around her ankles. Wanting to assess the

  situation, Finegan plays along. Finegan points to the 7 year old girl,

  who is standing to the rear of the clutch of children.

  What’ll you take for the girl in back?

  Like the others, the girl has a solemn face. The girl blinks, stares at

  the ground, and is making fists with her hands as they are held at her

  sides, tense and frightened.

  Finegan pulls out a gold watch on a gold chain, dangling it in the air

  in front of the hag, but she objects.

  Food! I want food. Else some’it useful, like a

  gun. Ammo. What cha got?

  Finegan stuffs the gold watch back into his pocket and while pulling

  his hand out of his pocket flips it back to grab his pistol, which he

  has tucked into the waistband of his pants at the back. Pointing the

  gun at the hag’s head, Finegan says,

  I do just happen to have a gun.

  The hag bolts for the door of her shack, but Finegan grabs her by the

  scuff of the neck. With the pistol at the back of her neck, she has no

  choice and throws her scrawny hands up in the air. Finegan says,

  We’re going to let those kids out.

  Finegan gives her a shove in the direction of the shack door, all the

  while holding firmly to the scuff of her neck.

  ______________________________

  The hag is on her stomach on the ground, her hands and feet tied

  together behind her. The girl is looping and tying and jerking on the

  piece of rope. Finegan has been holding the pistol on the woman. He

  puts his gun away and tests the knots briefly, giving them a tug.

  Suddenly, the girl is talkative.

  She put a rag over my mouth. It smelled.

  29

  The girl points with a finger in the direction of the hills up above

  the river, swinging her arm back and forth indicating she is not sure

  where her capture took place.

  I got tired and sat down for a spell.

  The girl looks sad, glancing to the side at the cluster of younger

  children, now out of the cage but still huddling together.

  She likes the little ones. They’re easier, I

  guess.

  Finegan goes into the shack
and comes out with a bottle marked

  Chloroform and a dirty rag. The hag is furious.

  Hey! You steal my kids but don’t steal my

  stuff! I gotta live.

  Finegan wets the rag with the Chloroform and slaps it over the hag’s

  face, holding it there. Still trying to assess the situation, Finegan

  asks,

  Has anyone come by?

  The girl says,

  Not since I’ve been here. She said if someone

  didn’t come by soon, she’d have to eat one of

  us.

  Finegan has been looking around, and has noted a rowboat pulled up onto

  shore. The boat looks sound. Finegan has formulated his plan.

  Common kids, lunch time. Ever had a ripe peach?

  ______________________________

  The rowboat is being pulling up alongside the houseboat, filled with

  the rescued kids. Finegan is rowing the heavily loaded boat carefully.

  Joey is reaching out to catch the rope attached to the front of the

  boat, securing it to the houseboat. Then he moves along the rowboat,

  pulling it close along the side of the houseboat, and holds the rear so

  the rowboat is now flush alongside the houseboat. Finegan lifts the

  kids out one by one, setting them on the deck.

  Dole out some of them ripe peaches and set to

  frying the fish from this morning. It looks

  like they haven’t had a decent meal in a week.

  Putting his hands back on the oars, Finegan says,

  I’ve got something to tend to.

  Joey nods, and goes to untie the front of the rowboat, tossing the rope

  into the boat. Finegan pushes the rowboat away from the houseboat with

  one of the oars and turns the boat to head back to the shack.

  When Finegan returns the rowboat is filled with loot he has taken from

  the hag’s shack. There is a crossbow, a hunting knife, a rifle with

  30

  ammo, several pots and pans, and wool blankets. He pulls up to the same

  spot along the side of the houseboat. The kids are all seated in

  various places around the front of the houseboat, where Joey has been

  frying fish and baking potatoes. They all have a plate of sorts in

  their hands, and are eating ravenously. The girl is helping dish food

  out and is passing a cup of water along from one to the other. Joey

  secures the boat as before, tying it at the front and then holding the

  back. Finegan heaves the loot onto the deck.

  One last thing.

  Joey nods and again unties him. Finegan again moves back again toward

  the shack.

  ______________________________

  The houseboat is now in open water in the center of the river. They are

  returning downstream, back to the group of survivors at the bonfire.

  The kids are clustered together on the deck at the front, some nodding

  off, some sleeping, some looking forward at the river as though in a

  hypnotic state. Trailing behind Finegan is the rowboat with the hag on

  her knees in the bottom. She is complaining loudly.

  You let me loose! That’s my stuff, damit.

  Finegan has a smile on his face, ignoring her.

  ______________________________

  Toward evening the houseboat is approaching the shore where the bonfire

  party was held just the night before. Those on shore can see the front

  of the houseboat, which leads during the pedaling process, and can see

  a pile of youngsters now almost all asleep. One of the young kids jumps

  up, recognizing his mother on shore.

  Mama! Mama!

  The group on shore is gathering, more and more campers coming from the

  woods or from temporary shelters thrown together and rushing to the

  shoreline. As the houseboat slows and Finegan leaves the pedals to moor

  with the grappling hooks, some in the crowd wade into the water, not

  waiting. The kids are coming forward to stand on the edge of the

  houseboat front, some reaching their arms out. Finegan throws his hands

  up, smiling, and arranges to work with a couple men coming to help,

  handing them each a grappling hook, which is walked, rather than

  thrown, onto shore.

  ______________________________

  31

  That night, the hag has been tied to a chair, seated near the bonfire

  where her features can be seen. There are boxes and various chairs

  lined up to one side, where the jury has been assembled. Six men and

  six women are seated, listening. The camp mistress is bringing the girl

  to the other side, where her features can be seen by the jury in the

  firelight. The girl will testify as to her experience, and what she

  observed at the shack. The girl points at the hag.

  Smelly rag over my mouth and held me down.

  The hag of course is objecting.

  She’s a lying. I found them lost and brought

  ’em home.

  In the shadows on the edge of the court scene, the parents can hardly

  keep silent.

  Burn her, burn her alive! Why are we having

  this stupid trial, it’s obvious.

  Someone walks up to Finegan and hands him a bottle.

  You’ve earned this, I recon.

  Finegan takes the bottle, taking a swig. He points with his bottle

  hand.

  Now what? I half expect them to toss her into

  the fire.

  ______________________________

  Later that night, the hag, her hands still tied, is being muscled to

  the rowboat on the edge of the shore. She is resisting, being pushed

  and carried between two men when she tries to dig her feet into the

  soft earth along the shore.

  Can’t do this. Those kids lied. This is murder

  I tell ya.

  Almost covered by the people who have muscled her to the rowboat, she

  is lifted and set into the center of the boat, and then tied down by

  numerous ropes – feet, knees, and elbows tied to the boat in some

  manner or another. The rowboat, without oars, is pushed away from shore

  and into the receding tide and the outflow from the river.

  Exile at sea, to starve to death in the same manner she was starving

  the kids. The boat drifts from shore and into the night, the hag’s

  cries becoming distant and barely audible.

  32

  Industrial Revolution

  Finegan is sorting through various small mechanical parts stored inside

  the house of the houseboat. He is pulling boxes out, checking the

  contents, pouring some out on a table in the center of the thoroughly

  cluttered house, and labeling other boxes. He is sorting stuff on the

  table into small boxes and labeling these. The overall approach is to

  move what he has sorted and labeled into one cleared corner of the

  house - taking a total inventory so to speak. Finegan says,

  I forget what all I have, ya know?

  Joey is being a loyal assistant, taking labeled boxes away and bringing

  others closer to Finegan who is seated on a stool during this process.

  Every once in awhile Joey finds something totally inappropriate, like a

  dirty shirt, and holds it up for Finegan to pass judgement. Finegan

  shrugs and says,

  I dunno. . . Put it on the laundry pile, I

  guess.

  Finegan sighs, and looks up at Joey.

  I suppose that’s another thing we should be

 
doing.

  He returns to his work, pulling things out of a box Joey has dragged to

  his feet.

  ______________________________

  The houseboat is moving along the outer edges of a flooded subdivision,

  some rooftops seen sticking out of the water and some just under the

  water. Finegan is keeping a distance away, as the slope appears to be

  shallow. He is sticking to deep water. Finegan points to the flooded

  rooftops.

  The last thing we need is to be stuck on one of

  those. I don’t fancy trying to lift this boat

  offn’ one of ‘em.

  Finegan flashes a smile at Joey, who is looking worried.

  Well, we could always wait a day or two until

  the water rises.

  Then, muttering under this breath.

  Just keeps rising. . .

  A thin trace of smoke is rising from a ravine, indicating a campfire.

  Some women are running from the open grassy area behind the subdivision

  into the woods around the ravine. Finegan is not attempting to steer

  the houseboat to any shoreline near them. He sees an unspoken question

  33

  in Joey’s eyes, as Joey keeps looking at the scampering women, then

  back to Finegan’s face. Finegan says.

  They’re not ready yet. Too early. They’re

  living off what they pulled from these houses

  and . . well . . ah . .

  Finegan is struggling for a way to explain to Joey the nature of

  business and self-survival. After the rescues he’s seen recently, Joey

  has come to think of their role as some kind of emergency services. But

  some survivors need to run through their supplies and feel a pinch of

  some sort before they are ready to barter on a fair basis. This Finegan

  has learned. Finegan’s face brightens, as he has arrived at an

  explanation.

  They’re expectations would be too high.

  ______________________________

 

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