A houseboat. Finegan Fine

The houseboat is now covered with drying laundry. All lines from the

corner posts are full, the laundry attached to the lines by anything

but laundry pins. Some shirts are attached by the arms of the shirt

knotted loosely around the line, as though the shirt itself were

holding onto the line. Heavy pants such as jeans are attached with

tools – clamps or pliers. The roof of the house is covered with small

items such as underwear and t-shirts.

The Fisherman is making his way down along the steep bank toward where

the houseboat is moored, a string of fish in one hand, his pole in the

other. He raises the hand that holds the string of fish.

Howdy. Be happy to share the fish and some

news.

Finegan has been sipping a mug of coffee, the pot still on the grill,

staying warm. He puts his mug down and rises to move toward the canoe,

tied to the side of the houseboat.

Let me bring you over . .

______________________________

The houseboat crew and their guest are seated on the clutter at the

front of the houseboat, framed by flapping laundry hung on the corner-

post lines. The laundry tub has been emptied into the river and is

turned upside down. Finegan is seated on this as a chair. They are all

finishing fried fish and potatoes, putting their plates aside and

sipping coffee. Time now to finish catching up on whatever news they

have to share. The fisherman says, with a deep sigh,

So the fire took it all . . gutted the place .

. people keep showing up, looking for the

stash, so we let the char heap say it all. . .

No need to explain.

Finegan asks,

Those armed guards, they gone too?

And the fisherman responds,

Them that didn’t kill each other off during the

shootout, yeah. They took their guns and went

off to Atlanta.

Finegan asks,

Just you and your family here?

And the fisherman relays,

Those that come looking to loot, they don’t

stay. They move on. . . We try to stay out of

sight.

45

Finegan sets his mug down and rises to pick up a pumpkin and holds it

high.

For the fish. Would you mind taking me back to

the castle? What looters want is not always

what’s valuable. I’d like to sort through.

Joey is watching Finegan’s face but they both are arriving at the same

conclusion, having learned to almost read each other’s minds. Joey will

bring the canoe back and stay with the boat, in case looters arrive.

______________________________

Finegan and the Fisherman are walking up a barren hill, no trees or

shrubbery on the hill. Near the top of the hill, not at the crest but

to the side of the crest nestled against a rock outcropping, is the

charred remains of a large house. The spiked metal fence that

surrounded the house is still intact, though the gates are hanging

open. Some sheep are seen on the hillside in the distance, grazing. The

two are seen walking through the gate.

The fisherman is pointing toward a corner pinnacle.

There they had the lookout. Had one atop the

hill too in a concrete bunker. Then the goods

they had in a basement bunker, huge. The guards

blasted that open to get at ‘em. Heard the

blast from miles away. This was after they kilt

Mr. Anderson. He’d hid the key and was holding

out, ya’know. He was real tight fisted . .

always was. Acted like he owned everybody. Got

him kilt, I recon. We ain’t seed him since.

The twosome continue walking toward what was the front door of the

enclave. The monstrous double front doors are hanging open, still

standing though one is hanging a bit off its hinges. The doors are

charred but still entact, as they were solid wood on top of metal

centers, designed to be impermeable. The twosome slide between the open

doors, stepping gingerly through the trash. The main room of the house

has been burned to the extent that there is no roof and the floorboards

have been consumed. Only an occasional floor beam is in place. Finegan

points to the side, where the fire was less intense in the wings of the

house.

Lets try that route.

Finegan and the fisherman punch out the remains of a window glass, and

climb through the open window frams. The room they are entering has a

46

solid floor, though the drapes and furniture have been consumed by the

fire. The fire raged upward in the drafts, not downward.

There is a bar on the far end of the room, farthest from the main room

inferno. Finegan heads over there, poking around behind the bar, but