by Nancy Lieder
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,
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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.
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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.
The main factory building has a slightly sloping flat metal roof, with
the walls coming up over the roof edge for a couple feet as a guardrail
around the edge of the rooftop. The rooftop is covered with greenery,
some kind of rooftop garden, with wines hanging down over the edges of
the roof. There is the sound of a metal door opening on the roof, the
access door to the rooftop from a stairwell.
A bent little man emerges from the stairwell door, letting the creaking
door close slowly by itself. He heads over to a row of what looks like
cabbage, bending over it to weed the row, not noticing the approaching
houseboat. The gardener is bent, a back curved from years of working in
this position and from malnutrition, though he is not that old. He has
black hair and pale skin, a gaunt look, and appears to be small boned.
All is still except for the sound of water splashing against the side
of the houseboat.
Finegan hops up to the houseboat rooftop, standing next to Joey, for a
better look. Finegan calls out a greeting.
Yo, the gardens! Good day to you. Finegan Fine
here, trader. . . How you manage that, on the
rooftop?
The gardener freezes at the sound of a voice so close, and so
unexpected. He straightens up, as much as his bent back will allow, and
looks in Finegan’s direction. Then he puts his handful of weeds plucked
from the row down, and shuffles over to the rooftop edge. The gardener
puts a hand up to shield his eyes against the morning sun, taking a
moment before he responds in a high nasal voice.
What kind’a contraption is that?
Finegan replies,
It’s a houseboat. Floats. I got a water wheel
in the back to push it along. Slow, but steady.
The gardener says,
A trader you say?
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To which Finegan pitches his line.
What might you need?
______________________________
The houseboat is tied to a post at the corner of the factory rooftop. A
knotted rope ladder is hanging down onto the deck of the houseboat.
Finegan and Joey are being given a tour of the rooftop gardens by the
gardener.
. . We seen the water’s a’rising and dug some
good soil before it was covered. Those of us
ain’t never had no land in our name. Cain’t run
off with the house, but them landlords not
gonna miss some soil from a flooded yard. . .
We use rainwater here.
The gardener is motioning along the rows as they walk.
Tomatoes do well . . greens of many kinds . .
Potatoes if you keep ‘em wet . . can’t get
those carrots to grow unless they’s the stubby
kind . .
They come to the watering system where there are hoses with holes
running down the length of the soil troughs, in the center of each
trough. There is a water tank on the roof which had been used by the
factory, raised above the roof so there is water pressure.
This here’s how we water. Wears me out hauling
the rainwater up there every time, though.
Collects in the drains over there, which’n we
blocked.
The rooftop door opens again and the gardeners’s wife and 10 year old
daughter emerge. The wife has more meat on her bones than her husband,
though it is clear she has lost most of her fat in recent months. Her
long skirt is held up by cloth strips up over her shoulders like
suspenders, sewn onto the waist front and back. The daughter is scrawny
and wears a combination of her parent’s clothing, one of her father’s
shirts and a pair of her mother’s pantaloons, also held up by
suspenders. Her pantaloons are tied at the ankle, they are so
voluminous. They have dressed for company, and have brushed their hair
for the occasion too. The gardener turns toward them and to introduce
them to Finegan.
My wife and darlin daughter.
Finegan has been looking around, appraising the setup.
We might ought fix a pumping system to lift
that rainwater. Can you give me a tour to look
for parts?
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The gardener says,
They took ‘bout everything. Common.
______________________________
The gardener is walking Finegan through their living quarters on the
floor below the gardens. He is walking just ahead of Finegan, gesturing
to the right and left, turning to walk backwards at times, pointing at
this and that.
We brung just the personals. Dragged a couple
mattress. Plain livin but we’re making do.
They return to the stairwell, as the gardener wants to show Finegan
that the lower floors are inaccessible. Finegan follows the gardener
down to the next landi
ng where the water level is visible.
. . risen to this level, and lately slowed . .
Finegan points to the rust just under the water level.
Salt water . . salt water is corrosive. This
plant was never built for salt water. . .
Finegan turns to face the gardener. He barely gets his words out before
the building starts to collapse.
You had any settling problems?
There is a sound of metal screeching onmetal. The stairwell shutters
and both men lose their footing.
______________________________
A frantic scene ensues, as the gardener and his family are evacuating.
The wife and daughter are tossing bundles of personal items out the
window of their living quarters down to Joey, who is on the roof of the
houseboat. Finegan is on the roof of the factory with the gardener,
trying to harvest his crop. Finegan drops a rope with hook down to
Joey.
Snag me that bundle of plastic bags . . thanks.
The gardener is harvesting potatoes, shaking the soil off when he
wrenches a plant up out of the trough, and plucking potatoes off the
roots. He tosses the filled plastic bag onto a pile to be lowered to
Joey. Finegan is doing the same to carrots, starting to tear the greens
off them. The gardener cries out,
No, no, leave some! I’ll replant ‘em for the
seed. . . Gotta have the seed.
Finegan is hooking potatoe bags on the hook used to lower produce from
the rooftop to Joey. He swings the bag of potatoes out over the
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houseboat rooftop and holds the rope while Joey catches the swinging
mess. Joey says,
Got it.
The wife and daughter are now climbing out the window of their living
quarters below the factory roof, the daughter dropping down and then
reaching up to help her more portly mother, standing beneath her to
soften her fall. Her mother says,
Child! Out’en the way! I’ll squash you flat.
The wife falls on her butt, but rolls to stand up and brush herself
off.
Finegan and the gardener are now harvesting green cabbage, cutting this
off at the root and discarding the brown and tattered outer leaves. The
gardener cries out again,
Leave that’en. I’ll replant for seed. . . Just
those half dozen will do.
They have a pile of bagged vegetables at the side of the factory roof,
ready to be lowered down. Just then the sound of metal screeching again
cuts through the air, as the factory visibly shutters and lowers again
by a few feet. Only inches remain until the flood waters will pour over
the rooftop guard walls.
Finegan rushes over to the pile of plastic bags packed and tied and
ready to be lowered. He hooks and swings this to Joey as though they
only have seconds to spare. Joey signals Finegan as soon as the hook is
clear.
Got it.
The daughter is now helping Joey, moving the bags to the edge of the
roof and out of his way, and lowering the bags into her mother’s eager
hands during the off moments.
The water starts lapping over one edge of the rooftop guard. The
gardener rushes over to the far side of the factory rooftop, tearing
off his shift. He picks seed shoots from carrot and cabbage plants
being used to grow seed and ties them into his shift, tying the sleeves
together so it is a bundle. He staggers and sloshes back to the
houseboat side through the rising water and tosses this into his
daughter’s hands.
Finegan is hooking the harvested and bagged tomatoes, lowering them
carefully rather than swinging them out.
These’ll smash. Tomatoes.
The wife comes over to the side of the houseboat deck to catch them.
Finegan turns to the gardener.
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That it?
Just then, the factory settles yet again, accompanied by the sound of
screeching metal and splashing water, putting both Finegan and the
gardener in the water. Finegan and the gardener climb onto the
houseboat and stand, dripping web, looking over the flooded roof.
Along the sides of the factory roof the vines holding summer squash can
be seen bobbing up. The squash on the surface is bloated and yellow,
oversized and almost rotting in appearance. The gardener cries out,
The squash!
He dives into the water and swims along the bobbing vines, plucking the
overripe summer squash and tossing them to Finegan. Several of them
shatter when caught.
Arrrrrr! These are rotten!
The gardener’s wife rushes up to collect the mess in a basin. She says,
This is seed! You gotta rippen it full.
______________________________
The gardener and his family are standing at the end of the gangplank.
Finegan has donated his rusty wagon to the family, and it is piled high
with bags of vegetables and their personal possessions. Other bags and
bundles are piled around their feet. Finegan strides across the
gangplank with the packet of seeds the woman at the old folks home had
given him. He hands this to the gardener.
Joey is right behind him on the gangplank, one of the remaining
pumpkins in his hands. He hands this to the gardener’s daughter.
Finegan says,
I gather pumpkin wants a lot of room, but now
you’ll have the room.
The gardener is thanking Finegan.
Don’t know what I’d a done without y’all
stopping by.
But Finegan says he was part of the problem.
It was no lucky coincidence. Twas my weight
that tripped the balance. But it was gonna go
anyhow. . . Appreciate the potatoes and cabbage
and all.
______________________________
Finegan has the portable camping grill fired up with a small wood fire,
a deep pot on the grill filled with burbling hot water. The lid is off
the pot and he is brushing some chopped vegies off a cutting board into
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the pot - carrots, an onion, several potatoes, and some cabbage. The
houseboat is drifing offshore from where the gardener’s family had been
dropped ashore. Finegan glances in that direction as he settles back
onto a box, munching on a raw carrot, contemplative and exhausted. The
vegetable bins behind him are stuffed with the new produce.
Barney comes up to sit nearby, his nose in the air, sniffing the
boiling vegie stew. Finegan hands a raw carrot down to Barney, who lays
down to chew on it contentedly.
113
New Leaders
The houseboat is peddling along between the shoreline and an immense
island formed by the rising water. There appears to be water on at
least the three sides of the island that they can see. Joey brings
Finegan a map while he pedals along, confused about their location.
Finegan gets off the bike seat and comes to comb over the map with
Joey, who has spread the map out on top of a box at the rear of the
houseboat. Their heads are together over the map, while Finegan runs
his finger along the Ohio River.
I think we’ve going up the Ohio by mistake.
Hard to tell. All
one big watery mess. . . I’m
thinking more and more these days about heading
back. Least I knew what I was looking at.
In the background they hear a drum set being played, then a saxophone
bleating a few shrill notes. Finegan and Joey turn their heads in the
direction of the island. Now they hear a guitar being strummed and
tuned. Finegan and Joey look at each other and smile.
______________________________
Finegan and Joey are going over the rise of a hill, walking along a
dirt road lying between fallow fields. A flea market is laid out in a
pasture, dozens of blankets or tarps spread out on the ground with
wares laid out for inspection. Some hold pots and pans, dish sets with
many of the dishes or glasses chipped or cracked, incomplete tableware
sets, racks of used clothing for both children and adults, hand tools,
bags of apples and onions and nuts, chickens and roosters in cages, a
calf, bicycle parts, a used shoe display, non-battery key-winding
clocks including a large coocoo clock, a hair salon where a hairdresser
is snipping away at someone’s head, and a display of hubcaps which is
getting zero attention.
On one side a band is being formed, with a drum set, sax, guitar, a
violin, harmonica, and pebbles in a tin can. The band members are
trying out various songs, this or that member suggesting a tune and
playing a bar, then another having an opinion. Finally they settle and
start to play “Happy Days are Here Again” in a disjointed manner.
Finegan and Joey are walking slowly down between the blankets laid with
wares until they come to the shoe rack. Joey stops and begins comparing
his shoe up against some boots and tennis shoes for children his age.
Finegan asks,
Your shoes getting tight?
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