A houseboat. Finegan Fine Read online

  A houseboat. Finegan Fine

  Nancy Lieder

  Finegan Fine

  Copyright by Nancy Lieder, 2009.

  This is a tale about a houseboat living in the Aftertime.

  The pole shift has happened and the waters have risen several hundred

  feet due to melting poles and glaciers and the heating of the ocean

  bottom. The rising sea level is happening slowly but steadily, forcing

  survivors to relocate when they discover the flood is not receding.

  Finegan Fine has found a niche in this new world by running a trading

  boat along the new coastline and up and down ever broadening rivers.

  1

  Introduction

  The main theme is the sociological adaptation of the populace to the

  lack of rescue and rising waters after the cataclysms. Finegan meets

  survivors from all walks of life:

  -

  the very wealthy who expected to survive in their well stocked

  enclaves,

  -

  the politically connected who expected rescue on demand,

  -

  the wealthy who thought their bankroll would buy them comfort,

  -

  suburbanites unprepared to be self sustaining,

  -

  those who stubbornly refused to leave their cities and towns and

  steadily starve to death,

  -

  families who are separated from each other,

  -

  rural folk familiar with local produce,

  -

  immigrants caught a long way from home,

  -

  pedophiles peddlers selling children,

  -

  the handicapped who take hardship in stride,

  -

  military men cut off from their commanders,

  -

  former politicians trying to establish a continuity of government,

  -

  those who turn from their responsibilities and those who raise

  orphans and care for the aged,

  -

  teens without supervision,

  -

  the deluded who think the good times will return,

  -

  and those trying to maintain slave labor camps.

  A second theme is the devastation itself, which is widespread. Florida

  is under water, trapping those who lingered too long. Coastal

  subdivisions and river front towns are steadily flooded, often forcing

  people to repeatedly relocate. Satellites have been torn from the sky,

  so communications are by short wave radio at best. Rescue is simply not

  forthcoming.

  A third theme is survival techniques. Survivors adapt by eating

  atypical but highly nutritious foods. They live in makeshift shacks and

  tents. Electricity is generated from windmills or by pedals. Barter is

  the mode and the dollar is dead.

  A fourth theme is how people react to the crisis – by rising to the

  challenge and helping one another or by looting and hoarding. Survivors

  are on their own and must rely on resourcefulness and cooperation with

  others for survival. Those that mistreat others find themselves without

  supplies or friends in due time.

  2

  Table of Contents

  Houseboat Living ………………………………………

  4

  Burial at Sea ………………………………………………

  10

  Good Hard Cash …………………………………………

  14

  Peaches and Cream ……………………………………

  18

  Political Connections …………………………

  22

  Jury of Peers …………………………………………

  27

  Industrial Revolution ………………………

  33

  Zombies …………………………………………………………

  38

  The Castle …………………………………………………

  44

  Love at Last ………………………………………………

  50

  No Call Home

  …………………………………………… 55

  Shark in the Water ……………………………

  60

  The Orphanage

  …………………………………………… 64

  Continuity of Government …………………

  69

  Lost and Found …………………………………………

  77

  Yahoos Afloat ……………………………………………

  81

  Eating Rats

  …………………………………………… 88

  The Pawn Shop …………………………………………

  94

  Slave Labor

  …………………………………………… 99

  Bear Market ………………………………………………

  104

  Rust Belt ………………………………………………………

  108

  New Leaders ………………………………………………

  114

  Canibals ………………………………………………………

  121

  Kudzu Canyons …………………………………………

  127

  Homecoming …………………………………………………

  135

  3

  Chapter 1: Houseboat Living

  The humidity and Spanish moss hanging from the trees on the Georgia

  coastline is not unusual, but the fact that the coastline is flooded is

  unusual. Rooftops and treetops are sticking out of the placid water,

  which is lapping gently on suburban lawns.

  A houseboat is floating nearby, tied to a sturdy treetrunk sticking out

  of the floodwaters. The houseboat is solidly built, a modified

  commercial houseboat with metal floatation tubes underneath and a

  single story home in the center, and with patios all around. But this

  houseboat is not new, is well weathered with paint worm off and a roof

  tile here and there missing.

  And the houseboat is immensely cluttered.

  Bins of vegetables are stacked one on top of the other and side by

  side. Engine and mechanical parts are heaped in piles on the corners of

  the houseboat, placed for balance. There are pegs everywhere a peg can

  be placed, where loops of fishing line, wire, and rope are hung.

  Boxes are stacked, smaller boxes on top of larger ones. Some of the

  wooden boxes have pull-out drawers. Large plastic containers are

  stacked here and there, but only a few are labeled. Folded tarps are on

  top of one pile, topped by fishing netting flung there to dry after a

  night’s catch.

  Poles have been placed on the four corners of the houseboat and lines

  are strung from these poles to the single story house in the center. On

  one, some fresh fish, gutted and headless, are hung by the tail. On

  another, a confederate flag is hung alongside a US flag. On yet

  another, some attractive items of clothing, hung out to advertise that

  they are for sale or barter.

  A part
y of gulls approachs, greeting the dawn with their screams. They

  fly overhead, swooping down toward the fish hung out to drain and dry

  on the line. The raucous calls of the gulls have woken Finegan, who

  comes stumbling out of the house, bleary eyed, shirt half pulled out of

  his pants, barefoot and annoyed. He is waving his arms at the gulls and

  walking toward his catch, pulling a wooden box along behind him.

  Arrrgh. Go catch your own.

  4

  Finegan’s dog Barney, a mutt with one rear leg missing, is hobbling out

  behind him, throwing a bark or two in the direction of the gulls. Gulls

  are nothing new to Barney, and not a threat.

  The fish on the line are hooked by a hangman’s noose made of wire with

  a hook on the other end of the wire. The cleaned fish are hung by their

  tails to drain and dry. Finegan unhooks the fish quickly, dropping them

  into the wooden box, which he covers with a wooden cover near at hand.

  Finegan grabs a dented bucket and dips it into the water, sloshing the

  deck of the houseboat, washing off remaining fish guts and blood. He

  pulls the fishing netting flung on top of the tarp pile and hangs it

  over an unused corner line.

  All is now ready for a trip up one of the new bays that have been

  formed by the flooding, peddling wares and looking for barter. Finegan

  pulls on the rope securing the houseboat to a flooded tree, going hand

  over hand to pull the houseboat close. Noting that the tie point is an

  inch below water Finegan looks at Barney and mutters,

  S till rising.

  At the rear of the houseboat is an extension with a water wheel, half

  in the water, half out. Finegan has rigged the large wooden paddles so

  they turn when he pedals on some bike pedals – powered by lean muscle

  and determination.

  Sitting on the bike seat, leaning back against a seat backstop he has

  rigged, Finegan reverse pedals to pull away from the tree. He is

  steering the houseboat by a rudder attached to a lever. Satisfied that

  he is clear, Finegan leans back heavily into the chair’s backstop,

  pushing with his lean legs aggressively, and the houseboat moves up a

  newly flooded ravine along what is now the new coastline.

  5

  A country road at one side of the ravine is dipping down and

  disappearing into the murky floodwaters. Trees and shrubs are clustered

  on the hillside pasturelands and sink into the floodwaters too, so that

  only the tips of the trees are visible further out. The flood is

  recent, but persistent.

  Finegan is keeping the houseboat centered in the flooded ravine, being

  careful to avoid being snagged by flooded trees. Though the houseboat

  moves slowly, it moves steadily. Finegan strips his shirt off,

  overheated from the exercise, and tosses it onto a pile of boxes

  nearby.

  The houseboat is approaching a rooftop sticking up above the water.

  Over here. Over here!

  An elderly woman is sitting on her rooftop, barefoot and clinging to

  the roof peak with one trembling hand while waving at Finegan with the

  other. She is wearing a summer dress, lightweight and slightly damp

  around her thin frame.

  Finegan lets the houseboat drift, closing the gap. He strides to the

  front and grabs a large grappling hook on a rope and throws it onto the

  rooftop on the extreme left. He jerks on the rope so the hooks catch on

  the roof, then throws another to the extreme right, doing the same.

  Disappearing into the house, Finegan comes out with a battered

  stepladder. He steps up, grabs the knob at the end of the roof peak,

  and heaves himself onto the rooftop.

  Trust me now. I won’t drop you into the water.

  In a tremulous voice, May relays her plight.

  My son-in-law took the family to shore

  yesterday. He was supposed to come back for me.

  Finegan takes her free hand, holding it high so she can cling to his

  hand instead of the roof peak.

  Ease yourself over to the boat now. I’m going

  to help you down. You can’t stay here.

  May scuffs along the roof, clinging to the roof peak with one hand

  while gripping Finegan’s hand with the other. When they get to the edge

  of the rooftop, she freezes. After a slight pause, Finegan suddenly

  grabs both her hands and swings her out over the boat, so she is

  hanging over the stepladder.

  Get your footing now.

  Seeing that she has her footing, Finegan releases first one hand and

  then the other. Finegan steps over to the grappling hooks and frees

  6

  them, first on one side and then the other, and swings down onto the

  stepladder just as the houseboat is starting to drift away.

  Just to ask, you didn’t happen to have any

  booze in that house, did you?

  May has a look on her face like he had invited the Devil himself into

  their midst.

  Alcohol? Oh lord no!

  ______________________________

  Further up the ravine the terrain is relatively free of trees and

  shrubs, though is still plunging into the water. A farmhouse is beyond

  the pasture, at the high crest of a hill. The farmhouse is leaning at a

  tilt, with part of the roof torn off and thrown into the yard.

  There are tents in the yard, mostly made from tarps and blankets. About

  a dozen people – men, women and children - are emerging from the tents

  and rising from where they have been seated at a picnic table, pointing

  toward the approaching houseboat.

  Finegan moors the houseboat with his pair of grapping hooks and pulls a

  plank from between some boxes, shoving it out onto the shoreline. He

  strids over to greet those who are running down from the farmhouse.

  Finegan Fine here, trader. I’ve got stuff

  you’re no doubt looking for. And what useless

  things have you got that you’d like to get rid

  of?

  A friend of May’s toward the back of the crowd recognizes her.

  We were so worried about you.

  Looking past May to the houseboat and not seeing any others, she looks

  puzzled.

  Where’s the family?

  May is walking cautiously along the plank, stepping gingerly onto shore

  and up to greet her friend.

  They left in a boat yesterday. Something must

  have happened because they were supposed to

  come back for me.

  May is looking a little consternated, but her friend has hardened her

  face. They both turn to go up the hill, the friend’s arm around May’s

  frail frame. May’s friend says grimly

  I never did like that man.

  Finegan is bargaining with the farm matron. She complains that the

  group staying with her

  7

  Ate everything.

  Ready to barter, Finegan says

  I’ve got some fine fish here, fresh from last

  night, and if you let me stay for dinner I’d be

  obliged.

  Finegan reaches behind him to pull a rusty child’s wagon out and heaves

  the wooden box of fish into it. They set out up the hill, side by side,

  chatting.

  How’d you catch all that? We don’t get but an

  occasional with the line
.

  The sky is beginning to turn orange, signaling eventide.

  ______________________________

  Fish are sizzling in a pan placed over a campfire. Finegan is milling

  around in the background, talking to several people over a pile of junk

  that has been assembled. There are children in the group, curious as

  always.

  A man jogs up holding what looks like a radio setup, including a long

  stiff wire that has been used as an antenna. Finegan takes this in his

  hands and looks it over, talking to the man at the same time, and

  glancing up at the rooftop.

  Can’t get anything from there?

  The man shakes his head.

  Not lately. I think the base tower went down.

  The group is drifting away, moving toward the picnic table in

  anticipation of supper. The farm matron comes up from behind Finegan

  and begins talking behind him, so the group won’t be alerted to their

  conversation. She has a bag of onions hanging from one hand, her barter

  for the fish, to explain why she is approaching him. Finegan looks up,

  but does not yet turn around to face her, sensing the agenda.

  The farm matron speaks quietly.

  I have a favor to ask. We’ve got little Joey

  here, was trapped here with his grandad when

  the waters started to rise. Grandpa died

  yesterday, and the boy wants to go home. Take

  the boy up aways and give his folks the body.

  I’m afraid if you don’t do this, someone here

  will eat him.

  8

  Finegan nods, then turns for their official conversation about the

  onions.

  Fine mess you have there! Keep well too. You

  grow these here?

  As the farm matron backs away, Finegan moves to the side to address an