The traveler says,
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42
The houseboat is moored at a small island in the center of the river,
tied to a tree. Finegan has just finished tying the knots, and returns
to pick up where he left off the day before – making a meal. He is
pulling some potatoes from a bin, and taking some fish out of the
wooden box he uses as a cooler. He sniffs the fish and determines they
are not yet spoiled. Finegan fires the coals and puts a blackened pot
of coffee on the grill, then pulls a pan out and slices potatoes and an
onion into it.
Joey and Barney were asleep on the deck, as usual, but stir due to all
the commotion. The Traveler is asleep on the house roof, hat over his
face, and snoring. Finegan glances at the traveler and says,
Finegan scans the shore in the direction of Millstown, several miles
downstream.
At the smell of frying fish and potatoes and onions in a pan, the
traveler awakes, raising first one knee and then rolling over onto his
side, hand under his chin and hat pushed back on his head.
Energized, he rolls onto his butt and scuffs on his butt over to the
edge of the roof, climbing down using pile of boxes as stairs.
Finegan is dishing out the pan-fry onto three plates, and hands one to
the traveler, then pours mugs of coffee. Finegan casts a glance at the
traveler’s shoes, soft sole for comfort while canoeing.
Joey gets his clue and puts his plate down, wiping his mouth with the
back of his hand. He goes into the house and starts searching for the
box labeled “boots”. Finegan is also rummaging around in the laundry
pile, and pulls out a red bandana. He holds it up.
43
The Castle
The houseboat is approaching a broken concrete dam, shattered by the
earthquakes. The floodwaters have raised the water level to the top of
the former dam, but there is not enough clearance to go over without
scraping the bottom of the houseboat, potentially getting caught and
stranded.
There are flooded trees but mostly the banks are clear and steep.
Finegan selects a sturdy tree as his anchor and ties up. The canoe is
tied firmly to the side of the houseboat, the paddles laid in the
bottom. Not a soul is in sight.
Finegan is pulling a tub out from the clutter, and sorting laundry,
preparing to finally have laundry day. Joey emerges from the house
holding an old Tide box.
Finegan glances up.
The camping grill is at the side, heating a pot of water, which can be
seen steaming. Finegan takes a couple pails of river water, pouring it
into the tub. He examines the box Joey brought from the house and
shakes some of this into the tub, then immediately pours boiling water
on top of the flakes. He then grabs a washing board nearby and starts
scrubbing shirts, wringing them out, and throwing them to the side to
be rinsed later.
Finegan stands straight, sweating a bit, to catch his breath. Looking
to the side, up along the shore, he sees a fisherman.
The fisherman is quiet and dressed in earth tones, had been there all
along, not noticed. He nods in Finegan’s direction and recasts his
bamboo pole and line into the river. He does not have expensive fishing
gear, but rather a pole with a line tied to the end, primitive.
Finegan returns to scrubbing his laundry, seeing that his activity is
downriver from the fisherman’s spot, and that they are not interfering
with each other. Joey is picking up the washed items and rinsing them
in the river.
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