comes to you or them, shoot them guards too,
because that’s what I’m gonna do. Send ‘em to
hell. We sure can’t leave them roving loose on
the landscape, and I ain’t inclined to run a
prison. . . Here’s a wire cutter. When the dogs
are dead and the guards are gone, you open that
yard. Use these if you have to. Let everyone
out.
______________________________
The guard house explodes. Dogs are barking, rifle shots, dogs are
yelping, then more shouting, then more shots. The work camp prisoners
are streaming out of a cut in the barbed wire, running in all
102
directions. Some of the prisoners are looking over their shoulders back
at the melee. They pause, then turn around, seeing they are not being
chased, the dogs are dead, and the guards are all on the ground,
wounded or dead. They call to each other and come back. The prisoners
are now making angry murmuring noises. Finegan points to the rifle in
the escapee’s hand.
You keep that, you folks might need it going up
against them.
Finegan is now pointing to the new housing for the wealthy. He pulls
some more dynamite out of his backpack, handing this to one of the men.
You know how to use this?
Another prisoner says,
I do. Worked in demolition.
Finegan continues his instructions.
They got any supplies, they should be yours,
for back pay, eh? Send them off without
anything. No food. No weapons. That’s better’n
they did to you. They may not have been in
charge of this ‘er camp, but they didn’t rescue
you either.
More and more prisoners are coming back to the group, realizing they
are freed and the war has been won. The escapee is crying again, tears
running down his face, a wordless, sobless weeping. Finegan says his
goodbye, to the escapee, and with a wave to the rest of the prison
population.
I gotta go talk to a boy now.
103
Bear Market
Finegan is continuing to peddle along the rocky shoreline, formerly a
mountainous area such as eastern Kentucky or West Virginia. They are
coming closer to the heavy population centers along the East Coast. The
houseboat is approaching a mountain top resort area. The main buildings
have partially collapsed roofs and a wall here and there collapsed
also. The yards and bushes have not been mowed or trimmed. Sheep can be
seen grazing on the former golf course. The houseboat approaches a
grassy slope of land with a winding road leading down into the water.
Finegan is preparing to moor the houseboat there, Joey getting ready to
sling a grappling hook.
Finegan and Joey approach the former resort. As usual Barney waits for
them on the houseboat, standing guard. The resport appears to be
deserted, but then the sound of muffled voices can be heard from the
basement area. The collapsed roof of the resort is in pieces on the
floor of the lobby, but the floor held so the basement is intact. The
lobby had a lofting ceiling, unstable during the quakes. Finegan and
Joey come down some winding stairs leading from the lobby of the resort
to a basement recreation area.
The basement has huge wooden beams and a stone floor, pool tables and a
bar, stuffed animal heads mounted on the walls, and over-stuffed chairs
in the corners around coffee tables and tables with lamps. A generator
is sitting near the bar, with some lamps moved to the bar with
extension cords, but it has long since run out of gasoline, useless.
A portly man, a former billionaire, is arguing with another portly man,
their hands gesturing in the air. The second man is backing away from
the former billionaire during this conversation. Lounging in one
corner, on some of the over-stuffed chairs, are several young women, a
couple decades younger than the men. The former billionaire says,
. . Need to hire some new men . .
Both men suddenly realize that Finegan and Joey are quietly descending
the stairs and jerk their heads around in that direction. They stare
silently at the newcomers, as though expecting an apology or
explanation. The former billionaire says,
This is a private resort.
Finegan says,
Finegan Fine here, trader. I come to see what
you might need, and what you have in trade.
The two portly men look at each other for a minute, unspoken
communications between them. The former billionaire says,
104
You have food? I’m looking to get the damn
phone connected but the batteries are dead.
His partner motions to the quiet generator and says,
And that thing don’t work.
Finegan says,
Cell phones? You need towers for those, and the
towers are down.
The former billionaire says,
Oh yeah? How would you know?
Finegan says the obvious.
How long you been trying to raise someone? . .
Phones don’t work no more. Short wave is the
only thing and that’s real spotty.
The former billionaire and his buddy don’t look surprised. The former
billionaire reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a checkbook, and
slaps it on the bar.
Yeah, well, I can write you a check. Bring the
food supplies and gas for the generator in
here.
He points to the middle of the floor and proceeds to fill out the
check. Finegan says,
Paper’s no good.
The former billionaire flushes with anger and looks sharply over at
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?