A houseboat. Finegan Fine

Finegan, his voice rising.

Paper? This is backed. This isn’t paper, this

is solid, negotiable anywhere.

Finegan holds his ground.

No one deals in paper anymore. It’s no good.

You gotta barter goods and services.

The former billionaire throws his pen down on the bar in disgust and

turns his back. Finally he explodes in anger.

We need something to eat! Damit. I don’t care

what it takes, bring some food in here and on

the double.

Finegan is beginning to suspect that this group had been dislodged from

the internment camp, and has headed to the only location nearby where

they expected to get a warm welcome as former members of the resort.

Finegan winks covertly at Joey to clue him in.

Don’t you garden or tend sheep or something?

Most survivors have to do that to survive. What

you been eating?

Finegan is pretending to look around the rec room for evidence of

gardening or hunting or fishing. The former billionaire says,

105

Not that it’s any of your business, but our

help quit. Ran off and left us.

Finegan motions to the several young women lounging in the corner on

over-stuffed chairs, looking blaze. They are well dressed though some

weed seeds are entangled in hair or on clothing, and their panty hose

ripped and shoes muddy. Finegan says,

Doen’t take much to seed and weed a garden.

They break a leg or something?

The former billionaire is twitching slightly.

We don’t garden. The help does that.

The former billionaire is losing his temper again, looking around and

up at the ceiling, calling out to the general area as though expecting

the resort staff to suddenly appear out of thin air.

I’m a paid member. Where the hell is the help!

Joey is trying not to smile and trying to play dumb, almost biting his

lip at times, in on the secret. Finegan says,

So you had a garden but left it? Just because

the help ran off? Didn’t you treat them right?

The former billionaire is now sounding a bit desperate.

I paid them well but they wanted more, had a

better offer. I’ll pay you plenty. You’d be set

for life after this all blows over. I’m worth

billions. . . Billions.

Finegan again holds his ground.

I told you, paper’s no good. That includes

stocks, bonds, cash. So what you gonna do now?

How you gonna live?

The former billionaire is deflated but still trying to act in charge.

You tell me. What’ll it take?

The former billionaire is jerking his chin at the young women lounging

in the corner, indicating they should go over to Finegan. Seeing them

start to rise from their chairs, Finegan rejects the offer.

And I ain’t interested in that either. There’s

plenty of tail being offered, but food is worth

more. You can’t beg, borrow, or steal these

days. Those growing food work too hard for what

they get. . . But there is one thing you can

do.

The former billionaire is fuming again, but glances up through angry

brows at Finegan, too astute at business to pass up a tip. Finegan

says,

106

Too late to start a garden but there’s grass

and weeds to eat. Fish or set traps if you know

how. And you know, rats aren’t half bad in the

stew pot.

Joey can’t hold it in any more and break out in a guffaw, then slaps

his hand over his mouth and runs up the stairs. Finegan follows him,

barely suppressing a smile himself.

______________________________

The houseboat is pulling away from the resort shoreline. Up on the

hill, in the former golf course, two young women are running after

sheep, their hands outstretched, trying to corral a lamb. The sheep of

course are way ahead of them, flowing like water up and over the hill.

107

Rust Belt

A factory is on the horizon, partially flooded. Metal cranes and

storage silos are among the metal-framed factory buildings. The windows

are smashed and some buildings tilted sideways, but most of the

structures are intact. The parking lots are underwater, only some

gateposts and the rooftop of a guard hut visible sticking up above the

water. Joey is on the roof of the houseboat, taking measure of the

clearance over the parking lot fence. He says,

A good 4 feet I think.