A houseboat. Finegan Fine

by Nancy Lieder

me a lift?

  Finegan has left the pedals, letting the houseboat drift slowing toward

  the raft city for a gentle landing. He is also being cautious, wanting

  to be sure he wants to pick this man up before making a bridge with the

  gangplank. He climbs to the rooftop to engage in a dialog. Joey slips

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  into the pedal seat and back pedals when he sees the gap of water

  between the houseboat and raft city closing. Finegan asks,

  Where’s the others?

  The cannibal looks shocked at first, not the question he expected.

  Finally, he finds his voice.

  They died. . . We been out here awhile, no land

  in sight. . . No food. . . Catch a little

  rainwater now and then. . . I’m the last.

  Finegan is still highly suspicious.

  How did they die?

  The cannibal is realizing for the first time that he needs to concoct a

  story, as he has been taken by surprise by Finegan’s arrival and the

  tide bringing the floating raft city close to shore.

  Ah . . dysentery . . got a fever and the shits

  and just wasted away.

  Finegan is glancing at the bloody construction sign and items of

  clothing tossed around on most of the rafts and does not buy this

  story.

  All except you, eh? You look plenty well fed.

  The cannibal is getting shifty eye’d, feeling trapped, and is starting

  to worry that he won’t get a lift to shore. He is looking over the

  expanse of water and Finegan can see the mental wheels turning. Finegan

  looks over his shoulder toward the shore, then back to the cannibal. He

  says,

  The tide’s turning again now, pulling out.

  The cannibal says,

  Maybe I better start swimming then.

  With one last look at Finegan’s face to look for a change of heart, the

  cannibal grabs a corner of one of the insulation rafts and jerks it

  toward him, breaking a corner off. Holding onto this like a phalanx, he

  dives into the water and starts kicking his feet, paddling to shore

  using the insulation piece as floatation. Joey has turned the houseboat

  to follow the cannibal, keeping a distance to the side.

  After furiously kicking for a few minutes, the cannibal pauses to catch

  his breath, gasping furiously. The houseboat is about 50 feet away,

  moving in parallel to the swimmer as they head toward shore. The

  cannibal has his upper body heaved up onto the insulation board, his

  feet dangling in the water. He looks over at Finegan.

  Not gonna give me a lift, eh?

  Finegan says,

  Not until you tell me straight.

  The cannibal begins to relay his story.

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  We were losing all land. Had to do somethin.

  This was couple months back. We had no clue

  about direction. . . Just floated.

  The picture he paints if of twenty people of all ages, including a

  little girl clutching a rag doll, climbing onto the floating raft city

  from the roof of a truck cab parked at a construction site. The rafts

  are turning in the swirling water, bringing empty rafts toward the

  truck cab, so each person or person with a child or couple can step

  onto their own raft. Those waiting to board a raft are standing back on

  the bed of the truck, waist deep in water. Cardboard boxes have been

  thrown atop some of the floating insulation boards.

  The cannibal has now caught his breath. He starts kicking his legs

  again in ernest, moving in the direction of shore. Finegan is standing

  with his arms folded over his chest now, openly showing his suspicions.

  Joey pedals a bit to stay alongside the cannibal. The cannibal once

  again stops, out of breath, and glances up at Finegan.

  So after a couple weeks some that were thin to

  begin with went blank, ya know. . . in a coma.

  . . The rest of us were starving, cramps. . .

  There was a guy who used to be a butcher. . .

  The picture he paints if of the raft city at night, a man slithering

  across a raft to slip onto another raft where a thin man is lying on

  his back.

  One night we heard him go over there, and in

  the morning we saw what he was about. That guy

  in a coma had his throat slit, blood

  everywhere. . . Pieces were missing.

  The cannibal is still trying to catch his breath.

  He had a knife. Said anyone wants a piece is

  welcome, but if they try to take him down he’d

  eat them too.

  At this the cannibal starts kicking for another few minutes. Finegan

  turns his back on the cannibalL to speak quietly to Joey during the

  splashing.

  We’re not taking him aboard, just so’s you

  know.

  The cannibal is again out of breath.

  Long story short, that butcher fed well while

  the rest of us got faint. Next we knew another

  and another went into a coma, no food and

  little water. It’d get dark, and by dawn, he’d

  be on another raft, fresh meat. . . After

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  awhile I saw that I’d be among ‘em, if I didn’t

  get something to eat, some blood to drink.

  He paints a picture of a decimated raft city, down to a half dozen

  people.

  I ain’t proud of it, but I ain’t the one slit

  anyone’s throat.

  Finegan asks,

  So why are you here, the butcher gone?

  The cannibal turns to splash away again, kicking furiously. He is

  trying to maximize his progress, while still hoping to get a lift in

  the houseboat. He’s also trying to buy time to concoct his story.

  Finegan again uses the opportunity to speak to Joey over his shoulder,

  in a quiet voice.

  I’ll bet he’s the damn butcher!

  Suddenly the splashing stops, the cannibal gasping for breath again.

  Then all is silent. Finegan turns to look again to the side of the

  houseboat in the direction of the cannibal. He sees the cannibal no

  longer clinging to the floating insulation piece, but swimming in long

  strokes toward the houseboat, closing the 50-foot gap. Finegan motions

  for Joey to turn the houseboat away from the swimmer. He jumps down to

  grab a long pole.

  The houseboat is now churning away from the swimming cannibal, who is

  only a foot or so from grabbing the paddles on the water wheel at the

  back. This distance is increased to several feet. The cannibal sees

  that he has lost this gamble and treads water now. Finegan says,

  The butcher ate and you starved, yet you’re

  here and he’s not?

  The cannibal defends himself, saying,

  We were running out of people to eat! It was

  gonna be me, next. He had to sleep sometime.

  There was a leg bone from the last carcass. . .

  Jumping rafts makes a lot of noise, slapping

  the water, so I slipped into the water and went

  under him, tipped his raft so he slid. Then I

  was up top, and had the leg bone. Every time he

  popped his head up, I’d club him again.

  Finegan glances toward the floating insulation piece, seeing it still

  nearby.

  You made good progress toward land. You keep it

  up, you’ll make it. We’re no
t taking you

  aboard.

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  The cannibal goes into a backstroke toward his floatation piece,

  glowering at Finegan as he does so, clearly enraged. As the distance

  between the cannibal and the houseboat increases, Finegan motions to

  Joey to get out of the bike seat and let him pedal.

  Let’s put some distance between us. I wanna be

  waaaaay down the coast. . . Watch my back,

  will ya?

  Finegan shakes his head, pondering the story as he vigorously pedals

  away from the swimming cannibal.

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  Kudzu Canyons

  The houseboat is peddling along a coastline where kudzu vines, covering

  everything in sight, are cascading into the shoreline. Mist is rising

  from the water, so the scene is seen through the mist, a magical view.

  The kudzu has covered several trees, which form spires, and has covered

  the remains of some houses in an abandoned subdivision, the shape of

  the rooftops barely discernable. Finegan and Joey are in awe, drifting

  past the sight silently, with Joey on his usual place on the houseboat

  roof and Finegan at the pedals.

  As they round a curve in the shoreline, they see an even more amazing

  sight – the remains of a car recycling junkyard where cars have been

  piled high after being crushed. Atop the piles are cars, which are not

  yet crushed. Kudzu vines have climbed up almost to the tops of the car

  piles, so the roads between the crushed car piles have become kudzu

  canyons.

  People are living in the cars atop the piles, using the broken down

  cars as a type of rainproof shelter. The trunks have been popped from

  some of the cars, propped open as bedrooms for children. Some children

  are leaning out of one trunk, waving at the houseboat as it drifts

  past. Most of the cars have at least one door open, with an adult

  sitting inside. The front seats of some cars have been pushed all the

  way back to be used for sleeping, and have pillows and blankets tossed

  about, an unmade bed. In others, the front seat has been removed but

  the back seat is being used as a bed.

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  A Confederate flag is hoisted on a car radio antenna, but there are

  other flags indicating independence. These flags look almost like tie-

  dye, the paint and lettering faded, and are a variety of colors and

  faded lettering. one flag that has “Kudzu Nation” painted in green

  lettering. This flag lettering is fresh, not faded.

  As the houseboat drifts toward the end of the car recycling plant,

  there is a cleared area where a campfire is burning, a large pot hung

  over the fire, burbling away. Several picnic benches are placed here

  and there on a level spot nearby, with residents of the Kudzu Nation

  lounging. Some wear baseball caps, cutoff jeans or pants, and t-shirts

  with the sleeves torn off or rolled high. This is redneck country. The

  men have beards. Several of the lounging residents wave and tip their

  baseball caps toward the houseboat drifting by. Finegan says,

  . . Seem friendly enough . .

  Finegan pedals toward shore, then backpedals to slow the houseboat,

  then comes forward to help Joey moor the boat. Joey is already swinging

  one of the grappling hooks. Children and adults are climbing down the

  vines, hand over hand and putting their feet against the rusting

  crushed cars underneath the vine cover. Some adults are climbing just

  below their young children, so if the child falters they can catch the

  child, blocking its fall. An old man is climbing down with his cane

  slung over his back.

  The piles of crushed cars, topped with cars as living quarters, and the

  kudzu cascading down the sides of the piles, all now covered with

  creeping and hobbling residents, look a bit like an anthill under an

  evacuation. Finegan comes across the gangplank, followed by Joey.

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  Finegan extends his hand to the apparently leader, the Kudzu King, who

  is approaching with an extended hand and broad grin. Finegan says,

  Finegan Fine here, trader.

  The Kudzu King says,

  Ain’t you the clever one! You got access to all

  what’s flooded. Be damned.

  The Kudzu King has a tanned face, a beard that has been crudely trimmed

  to be only a few inches long, hair that looks just as butchered by

  scissors, and is wearing well worn jeans, scuffed brown leather boots,

  and an undershirt with a short-sleeved plaid shirt on top. His shirts

  look grimy and sweaty, and are torn in several places. The Kudzu King

  adjusts his baseball cap, and can hardly stop grinning. He slaps

  Finegan on the shoulder, welcoming him, and walks alongside him as they

  walk to the campfire. He says,

  We’re just setting up breakfast. Yer welcome to

  share what we got. You like kudzu?

  ______________________________

  Finegan is seated at a picnic bench, talking to several adults either

  seated on the bench or on the ground in front of Finegan. They are all

  telling tales. Joey is kicking a ball around on the ground with some

  other boys his age in the background. In the foreground a woman is

  preparing a picnic table, clearing dishes that have been washed and

  dried from the last meal away and handing them to a girl to set them

  aside on a rack.

  Four men walk up with a kudzu tuber in a sling, one man on each corner

  of the sling. An immense 100-pound kudzu tuber conglomeration is in the

  middle of the sling, roots sticking out in every direction. The men

  heave it onto the empty picnic table, while the woman and girl bring

  buckets of water from the shore to slosh over the tuber mass, scrubbing

  any dirt away with brushes. A man comes with a machete knife and begins

  to hack at the tubers, breaking the mass into potato sized chunks.

  Periodically they step back and let the woman and girl collect the

  chunks in their hands and walk to the boiling pot, tossing the chunks

  in.

  The Kudzu King says,

  . . Been our salvation. Like taters. And the

  leaves too. That’s fer supper. Kind’a plain but

  steady. I still miss biscuits ‘n gravy. Dream

  on that.

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  A dairy cow is lead past on her way to being milked. The Kudzu King

  says,

  . . About ate all them cows. . . Ate everything

  in sight. But BillyBob took a stand when they

  came for his prize bull. Said they’d have ta

  take him first. Good thing too. We still got

  milk for the kids.

  The Kudzu King flashes Finegan a grin.

  BillyBob lived like a king on stud fees too,

  fer awhile. Had saved the last damn bull.

  Them cows pasture in the kudzu patch too.

  Finegan asks,

  No downside, eh?

  The Kudzu King responds.

  Um . . A patch of this stuff can be home to

  snakes and vermin. Can’t see ‘um. I’ll show you

  after breakfast. We’ll go on patrol.

  Joey comes up with a plate filled with what looks like mashed potatoes

  and a glass of milk for Finegan, while the girl helping with breakfast

  brings the same for the Kudzu King. While the Ku
dzu King is stuffing

  his face, Finegan poses another burning curiosity question, waving his

  fork in the direction of the crushed car piles.

  How’d you come to be living up high. I mean . .

  you didn’t drive ‘em up there.

  The Kudzu King looks up through his eyebrows and swallows, pausing in

  his ravenous eating, waving his fork in that direction too as he

  explains.

  We saw the waters a’risin. An the kudzu eating

  the trees. Them cranes still had some gas in

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  ‘em, so we lifted the hulks waitin to be

  crushed.

  Returning to his mashed potatoes again, he gives a final wave of his

  fork and a glance toward the car piles.

  We got the air. And the snakes don’t bother us

  cause the vermin don’t live there. Nothing to

  eat.

  The Kudzu King swings his fork toward the woods behind them.

  They like the woods. The rats eat the bugs and

  the snakes eat the rats and bugs don’t live on

  metal.

  The Kudzu King shakes his head while he returns to stuffing his mouth.

  That’s where we’d be, if’en it twern’t for the

  car piles. Hell of a place. I’ll show you right

  after breakfast here.

  ______________________________

  The Kudzu King and several other men are ready for patrol. They are

  carrying knives, machetes, an ax, a boomerang, and a length of chain –

  any weapons they can find. One of the men has a large empty net thrown

  over his shoulder. Another carries a couple shovels. And yet another

  carries the sling used to bring the kudzu tubers to the breakfast

  table. Finegan walks up armed with the houseboat club. She asks,

  Are we going to war?

  The Kudzu King says,

  That about says it.

  An outdoor school is being conducted behind the men. The schoolmarm has

  a chalkboard to the side and is writing words down, having the children