A houseboat. Finegan Fine

That’s your far guard and a trip wire on this

other end.

The group mobilizes, grabbing clubs and pitch forks, one carrying a

coiled rope over his neck and down under one shoulder. They take off in

the direction of the trip wire.

______________________________

Three teenage boys are clustered in the woods. The raid leader says,

What the fuck was that?

They are standing, momentarily confused, looking around. One of them, a

clumsy goof, says,

I ran into somethin here. Ah . . it’s a wire. A

wire.

The leader says,

Well duck under it. Common. Move it already.

The bell clangs out again.

84

Christ you can’t do anything right. Don’t pull

on it, duck under it.

The three boys get on hands and knees and are starting to crawl along

under the trip wire when the farming group bursts onto the scene,

swinging clubs.

______________________________

Half a dozen prisoners are tied back to back, in pairs. They are all

tied at the ankle too, so running is impossible for any of them. Five

are boys, one a teen-age girl. All are very resentful of being

captured. Coffee has been brewed over a campfire and scrambled eggs and

toast being served to the farming community. Finegan and Joey are

guests. The prisoners are not being offered anything but a drink of

water from a tin mug, held to their mouths. Finegan gestures to the

prisoners and turns to the farmer, who is seated on a hay bale next to

him. Finegan asks,

What’cha goin’ to do with ‘em?

The farmer replies,

Shoot em?

Finegan says,

One thing for sure, you’ve got to sink their

boats. They’d just take up again down the

coast. . . I can do that. Got a drill. Sink em

all and sink em good. Shame, but that’s the

first place they’d head.

The resentful farmer says,

Yeah, but they’d raid on land too.

Finegan says,

Harder to hide on land. And harder to run. On

the water, they could move, find new territory.

They had the element of surprise, at least at

first.

Finegan and the Farmer are pondering the situations, chewing and

swallowing and slurping, both staring at the glowering group of

prisoners. Finegan asks,

How much did they steal? Give me the value in

days stolen from y’all.

The farmer leans back for a moment, taking in a deep breath, looks up

toward the sky, and pausing in his chewing for a moment. Then he

swallows.

Given how many of us’en had to watch, and days

lost collecting our harvest? I’d say several

85

months. This been going on for months. We did

plant and have a harvest waiting, but made no

progress, y’know?

The farmer gestures around the site, indicating the state of his

outdoor camp, which is still out in the open except for some tarp tents

in the farmhouse yard. Finegan has a suggestion.

Here’s what I’d suggest. This group owes you

that time. Make a chain gang and work them for

that time. Take them months to work it off.

Maybe they learn something about farming and

don’t have to steal no more. Doing ‘em a favor.

Good behavior, that one gets off first, on his

own, across land. Send ‘em off as a group and

you’ve got a gang formed. The ringleader goes

last. Keep a night guard on for a good while

after too.

And as usual, the farmer says,

I got no chain and I got no locks.

And Finegan says,

I do.

______________________________

Finegan and Joey are walking across the gangplank with a plate of

scrambled eggs for Barney, who is wagging his tail, greeting them.

Several of the farming community are following him, bearing produce –

several bags of potatoes, a cardboard box filled with green cabbages,

another filled with turnips, and a jug of home brew. Finegan is

stashing the goods in vegetable bins as they hand it over on the deck

of the houseboat and leave, one by one. He and Joey wave goodbye as the

group trudges up the steep ravine from the hidden bay where the