A houseboat. Finegan Fine

singing insects drowning out the sounds of the classroom. The group of

men on patrol are walking along a well-worn path through the kudzu

forest. On either side are towering kudzu covered trees, which stand

like spires as the branches of the trees have rotted, only the trunk

remaining. They come to the area where the kudzu root and the greenery

the root system supports have been harvested. A large open area of

sandy red clay soil the size of a suburban back yard has holes and

piles of dirt where the digging recently occurred.

The Kudzu King cautiously approaches the side of this open area, ax in

hand. The rest of the group hangs back, but appears to be at the ready.

The Kudzu King grabs a vine where it comes out of the ground and hacks

at it, stepping backward toward the group, dragging the severed vine

with him. A bird flies out of the kudzu patch, startling some of the

men, who are tense. The man with the net spreads the net open while

those with knives slice off the green leaves, collected in the net. The

kudzu vine itself it cast to the side. The Kudzu King steps forward to

hack another vine, but quickly steps back. He says,

Whoa! Snake. Nemind, just a grass snake. Baby.

______________________________

The group now have their shirts removed, are sweaty and covered with

dust as the tubers have been dug up. Some are sitting around the edges

of a hole, catching their breath. The tubers have been heaved up and

onto the sling, also at the side. The Kudzu King is still pulling

vines, a separate operation from digging tubers. The vines are

interconnected so many are pulled down during any tug.

Finegan is standing close to him, ready for some sort of threat, club

in hand. As the Kudzu King leans into tugging he steps back and loses

his footing, falling on his butt. A family of frightened baby rabbits

scurry out from the burrow he has stepped into. One of the men grabs

the club Finegan is holding and clubs away at the baby rabbits which

are zigzagging in all directions, attempting to evade and escape. One

of the babies does not make it and lies dead and bleeding. Finegan is

trying to take this seriously, but has yet to see a threat and is

suppressing a grin.

132

Guess he won’t hurt no one no more.

Finegan puts his hand out to help the Kudzu King up onto his feet.

You could use a break. Let me do that for a

spell.

Finegan picks up the machete and wades into the tangle of vines,

slashing at whatever is preventing the vine they are pulling down from

dropping. In the shadow of the kudzu forest just beyond Finegan’s feet

a copperhead is slithering away. There are salamanders scurrying away

as well, typical food for a copperhead. Finegan steps back.

Whoa!

Several men armed with the ax, machetes, and the club spring forward

but Finegan waves them away. Finegan says,

He’s well gone now. Copperhead. . . Damn.

Finegan returns to slashing vines but is more cautious now, poking the

vines aside before sliding his leg into a space.

______________________________

Finegan is sitting at one of the picnic benches with Joey at his side

and the schoolmarm on the other. He has several old National Geographic

magazines on his lap, one of them open. Joey is watching the

interchange intently, as this pertains to his future.

Guess in all this we forget the young’uns.

They’re growing up with no schooling, cain’t

read nor write most of ‘em. This ‘ere ‘ll perk

their interest, far away places and all. Some

nekked women in there too, just so’s you know.

Lots of big words in there too, with, ah, . .

Greek roots.

The schoolmarm is smiling as she accepts the pile from Finegan. She

asks,

Does Joey have a school?

Finegan says,

Not lately, but he’s goin to from now on.

133

______________________________

Finegan has pedaled the houseboat away from the kudzu shore, into deep

water. They are heading for a small island nearby, a clump of flooded

trees, to moor for the night. Joey is at the rear of the houseboat,

talking to Finegan, as they are clear of flooded objects at the moment.

He has an open book on his lap with a copperhead snake skin being used

as a bookmark. Finegan says,

That school marm, she was thinking past the

troubles. We’re all so caught up in what’s to

eat, what we lost an all. Kids get lost in the

shuffle.

Joey says,

I promise. I’ll read a book every day. Out

loud, even.

Finegan sighs and looks momentarily distressed.

You know that lady did your set of clothes? She

and I, we . . well, what we done could’a made a

baby. Not saying it did, just could’a. . . What