top of one pile, topped by fishing netting flung there to dry after a
night’s catch.
Poles have been placed on the four corners of the houseboat and lines
are strung from these poles to the single story house in the center. On
one, some fresh fish, gutted and headless, are hung by the tail. On
another, a confederate flag is hung alongside a US flag. On yet
another, some attractive items of clothing, hung out to advertise that
they are for sale or barter.
A party of gulls approachs, greeting the dawn with their screams. They
fly overhead, swooping down toward the fish hung out to drain and dry
on the line. The raucous calls of the gulls have woken Finegan, who
comes stumbling out of the house, bleary eyed, shirt half pulled out of
his pants, barefoot and annoyed. He is waving his arms at the gulls and
walking toward his catch, pulling a wooden box along behind him.
Arrrgh. Go catch your own.
4
Finegan’s dog Barney, a mutt with one rear leg missing, is hobbling out
behind him, throwing a bark or two in the direction of the gulls. Gulls
are nothing new to Barney, and not a threat.
The fish on the line are hooked by a hangman’s noose made of wire with
a hook on the other end of the wire. The cleaned fish are hung by their
tails to drain and dry. Finegan unhooks the fish quickly, dropping them
into the wooden box, which he covers with a wooden cover near at hand.
Finegan grabs a dented bucket and dips it into the water, sloshing the
deck of the houseboat, washing off remaining fish guts and blood. He
pulls the fishing netting flung on top of the tarp pile and hangs it
over an unused corner line.
All is now ready for a trip up one of the new bays that have been
formed by the flooding, peddling wares and looking for barter. Finegan
pulls on the rope securing the houseboat to a flooded tree, going hand
over hand to pull the houseboat close. Noting that the tie point is an
inch below water Finegan looks at Barney and mutters,
S till rising.
At the rear of the houseboat is an extension with a water wheel, half
in the water, half out. Finegan has rigged the large wooden paddles so
they turn when he pedals on some bike pedals – powered by lean muscle
and determination.
Sitting on the bike seat, leaning back against a seat backstop he has
rigged, Finegan reverse pedals to pull away from the tree. He is
steering the houseboat by a rudder attached to a lever. Satisfied that
he is clear, Finegan leans back heavily into the chair’s backstop,
pushing with his lean legs aggressively, and the houseboat moves up a
newly flooded ravine along what is now the new coastline.
5
A country road at one side of the ravine is dipping down and
disappearing into the murky floodwaters. Trees and shrubs are clustered
on the hillside pasturelands and sink into the floodwaters too, so that
only the tips of the trees are visible further out. The flood is
recent, but persistent.
Finegan is keeping the houseboat centered in the flooded ravine, being
careful to avoid being snagged by flooded trees. Though the houseboat
moves slowly, it moves steadily. Finegan strips his shirt off,
overheated from the exercise, and tosses it onto a pile of boxes
nearby.
The houseboat is approaching a rooftop sticking up above the water.
Over here. Over here!
An elderly woman is sitting on her rooftop, barefoot and clinging to
the roof peak with one trembling hand while waving at Finegan with the
other. She is wearing a summer dress, lightweight and slightly damp
around her thin frame.
Finegan lets the houseboat drift, closing the gap. He strides to the
front and grabs a large grappling hook on a rope and throws it onto the
rooftop on the extreme left. He jerks on the rope so the hooks catch on
the roof, then throws another to the extreme right, doing the same.
Disappearing into the house, Finegan comes out with a battered
stepladder. He steps up, grabs the knob at the end of the roof peak,
and heaves himself onto the rooftop.
Trust me now. I won’t drop you into the water.
In a tremulous voice, May relays her plight.
My son-in-law took the family to shore
yesterday. He was supposed to come back for me.
Finegan takes her free hand, holding it high so she can cling to his
hand instead of the roof peak.
Ease yourself over to the boat now. I’m going
to help you down. You can’t stay here.
May scuffs along the roof, clinging to the roof peak with one hand
while gripping Finegan’s hand with the other. When they get to the edge
of the rooftop, she freezes. After a slight pause, Finegan suddenly
grabs both her hands and swings her out over the boat, so she is
hanging over the stepladder.
Get your footing now.
Seeing that she has her footing, Finegan releases first one hand and
then the other. Finegan steps over to the grappling hooks and frees
6
them, first on one side and then the other, and swings down onto the
stepladder just as the houseboat is starting to drift away.
Just to ask, you didn’t happen to have any
booze in that house, did you?
May has a look on her face like he had invited the Devil himself into
their midst.
Alcohol? Oh lord no!
______________________________
Further up the ravine the terrain is relatively free of trees and
shrubs, though is still plunging into the water. A farmhouse is beyond
the pasture, at the high crest of a hill. The farmhouse is leaning at a
tilt, with part of the roof torn off and thrown into the yard.
There are tents in the yard, mostly made from tarps and blankets. About
a dozen people – men, women and children - are emerging from the tents
and rising from where they have been seated at a picnic table, pointing
toward the approaching houseboat.
Finegan moors the houseboat with his pair of grapping hooks and pulls a
plank from between some boxes, shoving it out onto the shoreline. He
strids over to greet those who are running down from the farmhouse.
Finegan Fine here, trader. I’ve got stuff
you’re no doubt looking for. And what useless
things have you got that you’d like to get rid
of?
A friend of May’s toward the back of the crowd recognizes her.
We were so worried about you.
Looking past May to the houseboat and not seeing any others, she looks
puzzled.
Where’s the family?
May is walking cautiously along the plank, stepping gingerly onto shore