53
Finegan and Joey have just finished breakfast and are cleaning up. They
have their backs to the hillside. Finegan tips the coals in the
portable grill overboard and they fall sizzling into the water. Joey is
bent over the other side of the houseboat, rinsing the plates and cups.
They are too busy with their tasks to notice the seamstress coming down
the hill, holding a folded woolen blanket, until her wooden shoes clop
on the gangplank.
Finegan looks up, stands, and comes to accept the blanket. The
seamstress smiles warmly and pushes the blanket into his arms, holding
her rounded fingers up over her eyes, saying “for the binoculars”. She
holds his face between her two hands and gives him a big kiss on the
mouth. She turns with a wave to Joey, and walks back up the hill.
Finegan is looking after her with a lingering, dewy-eyed gaze. Joey is
looking at Finegan with his mouth slightly open and blinking,
astonished, having never seen this side of Finegan before.
54
No Call Home
The houseboat is approaching a bend in a broad flooded river. The land
has an occasional clump of trees in a ravine, but is primarily pasture
land. Toward the top of one hill, on a slope of land, is a massive
garden, being tended. Those tending the garden are a mixture of various
races and cultures – Hispanic, Vietnamese, and Russian. Hoes are being
wielded aggressively, weeds pulled and laid down on the ground as
mulch, produce being picked and placed into baskets, and a wheelbarrow
full of compost being pushed down a row.
Finegan has pedaled the houseboat to an open spot on the shoreline,
anchored, and is walking across the gangplank with Joey at his heels.
One of the Hispanic workers nearby nods and welcomes them.
Hola.
A Russian, dressed in faded jeans and a garish shirt approaches. He
acts as the group’s interpreter as he speaks English better than some.
Hello to visitors. We here grow food and live
harmony one with other.
Some of the gardeners pause in their work to watch the exchange, while
others continue with their work.
Finegan Fine here, trader.
The Russian asks,
What you trade?
To which Finegan replies,
What you need?
______________________________
Finegan has been taken to the Russian’s sleeping quarters. This is a
shack made from pieces of broken housing – part of a roof overhead,
wallboard on one side, a tarp hanging to form another wall, and a
blanket on top of a straw bale for a bed. They are both seated on the
crude bed, Finegan inspecting radio components. The Russian complains,
I trapped here. Can no fly home. Can no call
home. I worry.
He points to the distance, where he worked as a contractor.
We work for cheap, send money home, but now I
regret.
Finegan, trying to help, asks,
Do you have a tower? Short wave is the only
thing working, and you need to be close to a
tower.
55
______________________________
Finegan and the Russia are walking along the edge of a broken blacktop
road. They pass a car parked next to a rupture in the road, where there
was no way to proceed. The road has heaved six feet into the air. The
doors of the car are hanging open, and the glove box is also hanging
open. In the distance are several buildings, some partially collapsed,
with almost all the windows broken. Pigeons have taken up residence
inside the rooms beyond the broken windows. The parking lots are
overgrown with weeds where the blacktop is cracked. The ground has
heaved and bent the chain-link fence in places, with an occasional
deserted car here and there. The place is deserted. The Russian is
gesturing in the direction of the complex they are approaching, then
puts his hand on his chest.
I chemist. On contract.
Finegan points to one of the buildings, seeing what appears to be a
tower there.
Let’s try that building.
______________________________
Finegan and the Russian are climbing stairs inside one of the
buildings. The concrete stairs are broken in places but the rebar is
holding. However, the men test the strength of the stairs now and then
before gingerly putting weight on a step, and hold onto the handrail
frequently. They arrive at the top of the last flight of stairs and
open the door to the roof. A flock of pigeons takes flight, startled.
The men walk over to the tower. The Russian has his radio in hand, and
Finegan has brought his short wave radio, which he knows to be
operational. There are tie lines from places on the tower to places on
the roof, which held during the high winds as the winds simply flowed
around the wires and thin tower.
Finegan drops to a squat at the base of the tower, which is enclosed in
a box. He pries open the door with a penknife and pulls out some wires,
inspecting them. He loosens some screws on the side of his radio and
attaches some wires from the tower directly to these points, then finds
the radio batteries are now dead. He looks at the radio in the
Russians’s hand, and sees it is a crank radio, generating its own
electricity.
Let’s try yours.
Finegan stands up to crank the Russian’s radio, then squats again to
connect wires. The Russian’s radio is making static noises as the dial
gets turned. Suddenly, they connect.
56
(skritch) . . meeting later . . (snap) . .
something to eat . .
Finegan presses a button to send a message.
Caruthersville, Alabama here. Can you tell me
your location?
The voice on the other end pauses, then says,
Memphis. Are you in contact with rescue
services?
Finegan responds,
No. I’ve been along the new Georgia coastline.
Florida is flooded. Atlanta is a zombie town.
Do you have international connections? Russia?
Memphis pauses, then laughts.
Are you kidding? Farthest we got was someone in
Asheville. Had them for awhile, but they were
being overrun with folks from the coast.
Flooding. Been a couple months now, no contact.
Where the heck is the national guard?
Finegan says,
I’ve seen no sight of them. Period. No
military, no guard. Everyone is on their own.
Memphis continues to press for information.
(skritch) food depot? We’re plumb out here.