A houseboat. Finegan Fine

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A houseboat. Finegan Fine Page 7

by Nancy Lieder

animal. Finegan picks up his soap pile and backs away toward the bunker

  entry.

  49

  Love at Last

  The houseboat is peddling along a stretch of flooded shoreline that is

  rolling, grassy hills. Flocks of sheep can be seen here and there,

  grazing. Joey is at ease on the rooftop, sitting cross-legged, as few

  trees seem to be in the area and the hillocks can be readily seen under

  the water. On occasion he points to the right or the left, indicating

  which direction Finegan should steer the boat.

  On shore is what looks like a group of people wrestling with a sheep.

  Two men are holding it down while a woman is sheering the wool off.

  Finegan stops peddling the houseboat, letting it drift closer to shore

  in the morning tide. Some in the group glance up, noticing the

  houseboat, but don’t stop their task until the sheep has been sheered.

  They stand up suddenly, the sheep bounding to its feet and escaping.

  The group continues to stand and stare, not waving or calling, piles of

  wool around their feet. Finally the woman leans over to bundle the

  loose wool, tying it with a cord and slinging it over her shoulder. She

  sets off up the hill.

  Finegan decides he must either moor or peddle to open water and turns

  the boat toward shore, a spot where the shoreline elevates quickly and

  the rising tide won’t run past his grappling hooks. He comes to the

  front and heaves the hooks high into some brush at the shoreline. Puts

  the plank at a sharp angle so that when the houseboat rises with the

  tide it will be level, and climbs up, Joey at his feet. They walk over

  to the two men, still standing like statues.

  Finegan offers his hand.

  Finegan Fine here, trader.

  The deafmute comes to life and takes Finegan’s outstretched hand,

  nodding. He signs, using sign language. Finegan looks momentarily

  stunned, trying to figure out how to communicate and not sure if they

  understood his words. He hands Joey a stick and picks up a leaf, then

  he and Joey exchange while Finegan mouths his word in an exaggerated

  fashion.

  Trade.

  The deafmute nods and motions toward the houseboat, taking off for the

  houseboat with Finegan in tow. They both clamor up the gangplank, with

  the deafmute poking through Finegan’s goods. Finegan is at his elbow,

  looking a tad worried as he is not sure the man understands the nature

  of their business – an exchange.

  50

  The deafmute seizes on a folded tarp, and leaving his finger firmly on

  the tarp, stands and smiles at Finegan. Using the man’s body language,

  Finegan motions dramatically toward the hill where the woman carted off

  the wool, and starts to step toward the gangplank, watching the

  deafmute closely. Seeing that he is following him, not carting off the

  tarp, Finegan is reassured and smiling, and raises his hands up

  slightly, shrugging to Joey.

  We’re using sign language.

  ______________________________

  The roof of the old wool mill has been partially torn off, and the sign

  likewise torn apart. The word “Deaf” can still be seen on the sign,

  however. Some of the stones in the walls have been shaken loose and

  dropped into the yard, while other walls look relatively intact. The

  deafmute is leading them around to the side toward the mill where wool

  is combed and spun and large looms are worked by foot pedals.

  A woman is working a loom, weaving wool cloth. There is a price list on

  the wall, listing sizes of blankets or fine woolen cloth by the yard.

  This posted paper is yellowed with age. Some gardens are seen in the

  distance, where men are hoeing the rows of vegetables.

  The deafmute walks up to a pile of folded blankets and fine woolen

  cloth in a bolt. He gestures toward these, indicating this is what they

  are willing to barter. All the blankets and bolts of cloth are earth

  tones, not dyed.

  Finegan nods, turning toward Joey and pulling him close. He is tugging

  on Joeys shirt, which has started to get tight as he is growing. His

  pants likewise are tight, the waist button undone so a cord around the

  waist is holding the pants up. The deafmute nods, understanding. He

  motions that they should follow him into another section of the mill.

  Here there is a treadle sewing machine, and flexible body models. The

  models have sections that can be squeezed together to simulate a

  smaller man or woman or child, or pulled apart for a fatty. Any shape

  can be simulated – fat hips, big shoulders, etc. There is a model for

  each sex and several for children of various ages.

  The deafmute takes Joey by the hand and takes him up to one of the

  models. He is using his hands to measure Joey’s body and then squeezing

  or pulling apart the model sections accordingly.

  51

  A seamstress comes up with a tape measure and takes some measures of

  Joey - across his shoulders, around his chest, from neck to waist, and

  from waist to crotch. She brings up a swath of fine woolen cloth and

  holds it up to Finegan and Joey for approval.

  ______________________________

  Finegan is loading a couple tarps onto the rusty child’s wagon he uses

  to cart goods. The gangplank is now level with the shore, the tide

  having risen. He sets out toward the hilltop, toward the mill complex.

  As Finegan is coming up over the top of the hill he pauses to catch his breath and looks out over the hills. The deafmute is coming to meet

  him.

  There is smoke rising from the mainland here and there. The deafmute

  glances at Finegan, slicing his hand under his chin indicating much

  danger there. The deafmute points at the water, then pats his hand

  down, indicating the time when the water was low, then pulls his hand

  under his chin again.

  He motions to Finegan to follow him, and goes to a cleft in the rock

  nearby, showing Finegan a hidden bunker with a metal door. The door is

  in the shadows so blends in with the rock. Pulling this door open, the

  deafmute steps in, Finegan following.

  Finegan nods, indicating he understands what the man is saying. The

  group hid here if any danger from looters was a threat. They emerge

  from the bunker and return to the hilltop where they stare at the fires

  on the mainland. Finegan suddenly remembers he has a pair of binoculars

  at the houseboat, and raises his hand to the deafmute, pushing against

  him, indicating “wait here”, then takes off running toward the

  houseboat.

  Moments later, Finegan is returning with the binoculars, puffing up the

  hill. He holds them high so the deafmute can see what he was after.

  Finegan stands at the crest of the hill, holding the binoculars to his

  eyes, scanning. There are fires in the background, people dashing back

  and forth, throwing rocks at each other.

  Finegan hands the binoculars to the deafmute who takes a look. When the

  deafmute tries to return them to Finegan he pushes his palm in the

  direction of the deafmute, indicating he should keep them. The deafmute

  looks at Finegan’s face for a moment, then nods and returns to using

&
nbsp; them, not arguing and accepting the gift. They need to know when danger

  is approaching.

  52

  ______________________________

  Finegan has brought Joey to the fitting room of the Mill complex, where

  the models and sewing machine are housed. They are standing in the

  dimming light. Joey has the new pants and shirt on, and they fit

  perfectly. The pants are of heavier material than the shirt, and a

  lighter color of brown.

  The seamstress has squatted down while she checks her work. She tugs at

  the shoulder and waist, and is satisfied with the fit. She has her

  yellow cloth tape measure around her neck. She rises and faces Finegan,

  then pulling her tape measure from around her neck moves as though to

  measure Finegan’s shoulders. Pressing against him, and taking his face

  in her hands, she suddenly gives him a long, lingering kiss.

  Finegan stands shock still, not expecting this. As she pulls back,

  looking into his eyes, he raises an eyebrow, indicating something else

  has arisen. Giving up the booze has its benefits. Then with a smile, he

  folds her in his arms, leans her backwards, and gives her a long

  passionate kiss.

  ______________________________

  Joey is sitting forlornly in the door of the house on the houseboat

  with Barney. Both are missing Finegan, who has not yet returned. Joey

  takes the picture of his parents from his pocket and looks at it in the

  dim light, then tucks the photo back into his pocket. He puts his arm

  around Barney, who is leaning against him, and sighs. Finegan comes

  into view in the dim light, dragging his rusty wagon.

  Joey has scrambled to his feet, trying to act nonchalant by fussing

  with some rope at the side, as though Finegan’s whereabouts had been

  the last thing on his mind.

  What did they trade for the binoculars?

  Finegan replies,

  Honey. Something sweeter than honey, in fact. .

  . You know, as good as that seamstress is, we

  should try to bring her some business now and

  then. . . Not sure how to arrange that, though.

  Finegan is lively and smiling. He gazes up toward the mill complex

  hill, reflecting.

  Maybe I’ll need a new set of clothes.

  ______________________________

  53

  Finegan and Joey have just finished breakfast and are cleaning up. They

  have their backs to the hillside. Finegan tips the coals in the

  portable grill overboard and they fall sizzling into the water. Joey is

  bent over the other side of the houseboat, rinsing the plates and cups.

  They are too busy with their tasks to notice the seamstress coming down

  the hill, holding a folded woolen blanket, until her wooden shoes clop

  on the gangplank.

  Finegan looks up, stands, and comes to accept the blanket. The

  seamstress smiles warmly and pushes the blanket into his arms, holding

  her rounded fingers up over her eyes, saying “for the binoculars”. She

  holds his face between her two hands and gives him a big kiss on the

  mouth. She turns with a wave to Joey, and walks back up the hill.

  Finegan is looking after her with a lingering, dewy-eyed gaze. Joey is

  looking at Finegan with his mouth slightly open and blinking,

  astonished, having never seen this side of Finegan before.

  54

  No Call Home

  The houseboat is approaching a bend in a broad flooded river. The land

  has an occasional clump of trees in a ravine, but is primarily pasture

  land. Toward the top of one hill, on a slope of land, is a massive

  garden, being tended. Those tending the garden are a mixture of various

  races and cultures – Hispanic, Vietnamese, and Russian. Hoes are being

  wielded aggressively, weeds pulled and laid down on the ground as

  mulch, produce being picked and placed into baskets, and a wheelbarrow

  full of compost being pushed down a row.

  Finegan has pedaled the houseboat to an open spot on the shoreline,

  anchored, and is walking across the gangplank with Joey at his heels.

  One of the Hispanic workers nearby nods and welcomes them.

  Hola.

  A Russian, dressed in faded jeans and a garish shirt approaches. He

  acts as the group’s interpreter as he speaks English better than some.

  Hello to visitors. We here grow food and live

  harmony one with other.

  Some of the gardeners pause in their work to watch the exchange, while

  others continue with their work.

  Finegan Fine here, trader.

  The Russian asks,

  What you trade?

  To which Finegan replies,

  What you need?

  ______________________________

  Finegan has been taken to the Russian’s sleeping quarters. This is a

  shack made from pieces of broken housing – part of a roof overhead,

  wallboard on one side, a tarp hanging to form another wall, and a

  blanket on top of a straw bale for a bed. They are both seated on the

  crude bed, Finegan inspecting radio components. The Russian complains,

  I trapped here. Can no fly home. Can no call

  home. I worry.

  He points to the distance, where he worked as a contractor.

  We work for cheap, send money home, but now I

  regret.

  Finegan, trying to help, asks,

  Do you have a tower? Short wave is the only

  thing working, and you need to be close to a

  tower.

  55

  ______________________________

  Finegan and the Russia are walking along the edge of a broken blacktop

  road. They pass a car parked next to a rupture in the road, where there

  was no way to proceed. The road has heaved six feet into the air. The

  doors of the car are hanging open, and the glove box is also hanging

  open. In the distance are several buildings, some partially collapsed,

  with almost all the windows broken. Pigeons have taken up residence

  inside the rooms beyond the broken windows. The parking lots are

  overgrown with weeds where the blacktop is cracked. The ground has

  heaved and bent the chain-link fence in places, with an occasional

  deserted car here and there. The place is deserted. The Russian is

  gesturing in the direction of the complex they are approaching, then

  puts his hand on his chest.

  I chemist. On contract.

  Finegan points to one of the buildings, seeing what appears to be a

  tower there.

  Let’s try that building.

  ______________________________

  Finegan and the Russian are climbing stairs inside one of the

  buildings. The concrete stairs are broken in places but the rebar is

  holding. However, the men test the strength of the stairs now and then

  before gingerly putting weight on a step, and hold onto the handrail

  frequently. They arrive at the top of the last flight of stairs and

  open the door to the roof. A flock of pigeons takes flight, startled.

  The men walk over to the tower. The Russian has his radio in hand, and

  Finegan has brought his short wave radio, which he knows to be

  operational. There are tie lines from places on the tower to places on

  the roof, which held during the high winds as the winds simply flowed

  a
round the wires and thin tower.

  Finegan drops to a squat at the base of the tower, which is enclosed in

  a box. He pries open the door with a penknife and pulls out some wires,

  inspecting them. He loosens some screws on the side of his radio and

  attaches some wires from the tower directly to these points, then finds

  the radio batteries are now dead. He looks at the radio in the

  Russians’s hand, and sees it is a crank radio, generating its own

  electricity.

  Let’s try yours.

  Finegan stands up to crank the Russian’s radio, then squats again to

  connect wires. The Russian’s radio is making static noises as the dial

  gets turned. Suddenly, they connect.

  56

  (skritch) . . meeting later . . (snap) . .

  something to eat . .

  Finegan presses a button to send a message.

  Caruthersville, Alabama here. Can you tell me

  your location?

  The voice on the other end pauses, then says,

  Memphis. Are you in contact with rescue

  services?

  Finegan responds,

  No. I’ve been along the new Georgia coastline.

  Florida is flooded. Atlanta is a zombie town.

  Do you have international connections? Russia?

  Memphis pauses, then laughts.

  Are you kidding? Farthest we got was someone in

  Asheville. Had them for awhile, but they were

  being overrun with folks from the coast.

  Flooding. Been a couple months now, no contact.

  Where the heck is the national guard?

  Finegan says,

  I’ve seen no sight of them. Period. No

  military, no guard. Everyone is on their own.

  Memphis continues to press for information.

  (skritch) food depot? We’re plumb out here.

  Hunted out too. Some fish in the Mississippi

 

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