Joey looks up at Finegan and nods. The shoeman notes their interest and
comes up.
There’s some nice boots you got on. Quality.
Make you a trade for some these others here.
The boots he is motioning to are not the same quality as the pair Joey
wears. They are scuffed, have less tread, and have clearly seen more
wear and tear. Joey is laying them alongside the boots he has on,
measuring the size in this way. Joey sits on the chair the shoeman
offers his clients and pulls off one of his boots, trying on the larger
boot. He stomps on his foot and looks up at Finegan, smiling.
On the perimeter of the flea market is a barbeque pit, which is
smoking, the coals glowing, but the meat to be cooked is missing. A
horse drawn wagon is approaching this spot, loaded with a large dead
pig and cages holding young piglets. The dead pig has tusks, was a
feral pig, and is covered with coarse hair rather than the soft pink
skin of domestic pigs. It has been gutted and is ready to cook. Two men
riding on the back of the wagon hop off and pick up the ends of the
barbeque spit which has been driven through the dead pig from one end
to the other. They heave the pig into the air and carry it over to the
barbeque pit, placing it on the Y stands at either end of the pit. Now
that the meat has been placed above the fire, they complete the
skinning process, pulling the skin up over the pig’s head and over the
tusks, which are attached to the head bones and resist breaking off.
The wagon master is a young girl about 11 years of age. She is
barefoot, wears bib jeans with a t-shirt underneath, and has her hair
in braids on either side. She secures the reins and hops off the wagon
seat, pulling a board nailed onto a stake from the wagon bed. On the
board, in red paint, are the words “Wild Piglets”. She walks over to a
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clear area near the barbeque pit, reserved for her display, and hammers
the stake into the ground there, tossing the hammer into her wagon.
One of her two men picks up a covered bucket of barbeque sauce from the
wagon bed and returns to baste the now roasting pig. The other comes to
help the girl unload the piglets in cages. The piglets are young, only
about a foot long, and protesting, squealing. After they offload the
piglet cages, she immediately turns on her heel and comes over to the
shoeman, who says,
Howdy Matilda.
Matilda says,
They ate another pair.
The shoeman smiles and says,
You gotta stop kicking at them beasts.
Matilda walks into the shoe display area, scanning quickly, and leans
over to pick up the pair of boots just added, the ones Joey had been
wearing. She says,
Don’t remember you having these.
Matilda sits on the chair provided by the shoeman for clients and slips
her bare foot into one of the boots, standing to measure the fit when
her weight is pressing down. She smiles and glances up at the shoeman,
who says,
Consider it a donation to the campaign.
Matilda protests.
It’d only set them that can’t donate to
worrying. Favors and all . . You take one a
them squealers. I’ll tell John. . . Not that I
don’t appreciate the thought, Clem.
Joey is trying to get into the conversation as he meets few children
his age. He points at her new boots.
Those were my boots.
Matilda drops her gaze briefly at the set Joey is wearing, quickly
understanding that a trade had occurred, and just as quickly changing
the subject. She asks,
You folks new in the area? Pleased to meet you.
Stay for the barbeque!
Matilda extends her hand first to Joey and then quickly to a surprised
Finegan, who is not expecting this from a girl.
______________________________
Finegan is returning from the houseboat with a hammer and small box of
nails in his hands as he has found a saw he wants and has worked out a
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trade with the owner. He strides up to the hand tool display area and
extends his offering in front of him.
These.
For that.
Joey is wandering after Matilda, fascinated by her confidence and
social skills. Matilda is working the crowd, on occasion offering her
hand for a shake, on occasion placing her hand on someone’s arm, but
never lingering for more than a minute in any location. She comes up to
a woman who looks like she is about to cry, talking to a man getting
red in the face. The woman says,
But you owe me a hen. You promised. We ain’t
had meat ta home for a month.
The man is fuming.
They’re all sitting eggs, I tell you. Cain’t
you wait a couple weeks?
Matilda is looking from one to the other, saying nothing. Finally, she
sees a break in the argument and says to the woman,
How big did you say that old coop you got on
your place is?
The man and woman stare at each other for a moment, suddenly realizing
a solution. Both talking at once almost on top of each other. He says,
You got a coop? I’m outta space and with the
new’uns coming. . . Ya know, chicks take to a
new coop like its home after a day er so. . .
They free range, just let ‘em out in the
morning and call ‘em back at night.
She says,
Big as the house, but the hen’s er all gone now
since Earl passed. He did the chickens en all.
. . We got no feed, used corn during Earl’s
day.
Matilda is walking away, smiling to herself. Finegan is again standing
in amazement that a young girl is apparently in the running in a
campaign, and taken seriously. He says, under his breath,
But she’s a girl!
The toolman looks up, surprised at Finegan’s reaction,
Matilda? She’s the only one gets folks to work
together. You otta see ‘er move a crowd from
somethin plain stupid to summit that’ll work.
My Mary says she’s the jell that makes the
jelly set.
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He glances over and sees that Finegan is still agape with shock.
Put a bag over your head then so’s you don’t
notice that she’s a girl, and a young’un at
that. . . We got too many a problem to be stuck
in the old ways.
______________________________
The crowd of about 100 people is coming up to the barbeque to be
served. Each has a plate in hand, with some sliced tomatoes and a piece
of homemade bread, ready for a slab of barbecued pig. One of the men
who arrived with Matilda is slicing pork on a board next to the
roasting pig, which is now missing parts of its belly and hindquarters.
A semi-circle of various chairs or overturned boxes has been assembled
at the side of the barbeque, with the wagon Matilda brought stationed
in the center of the semi-circle as a platform.
A man with a clipboard is wandering through the crowd, checking off
names
and handing out small paper ballots. The official approaches
Finegan and Joey, who are in line for barbeque. He scans his list, then
looks up at Finegan.
New to the area? Where you staying?
Finegan points over the hill and says,
We’re just passing through. On that houseboat
over yonder.
Joey asks,
Does that mean we can’t get something to eat?
The official smiles and winks at Joey.
I recon you’re future voters, if you decide to
stay, and that there is for everyone. That’s
Matilda’s stand. Them that has plenty, shares.
Helping hand and all.
The official wanders off down the line. Joey looks up at Finegan.
One guess who he’s gonna vote for.
______________________________
A tall, muscular man is standing on the wagon addressing the crowd. He
is wearing suit pants and a vest, with a long sleeved white shirt on
under the vest, rolled up at the sleeves. He is wearing a tie, but this
has been loosened at the neck, his shirt collar open a bit as the day
has gotten warm. He is showing a 5 o’clock shadow. From a distance one
can hear his pitch.
. . build roads . .
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The crowd seems lukewarm, only a half dozen furiously applauding. The
first candidate nods and takes a slight bow, and then steps off the
wagon.
The second candidate is a stocky woman in a voluminous dress. Her hair
has been piled on top of her head and she is bedecked with costume
jewelry. Rings are stuffed over her plump fingers. She is helped up
onto the wagon by a couple backers who stand under her ample buttocks
as she heaves herself up the step. She straightens up and clears her
throat.
The rule of law must be our first concern.
There are simply no guidelines. I’ve taken the
initiative of drawing up statutes that give
clear guidelines.
A handful of people in the crowd stomp their feet and whistle loudly at
this point, as she unfurls a roll of paper she has brought with her and
proceeds to read off her proposed statues.
Finegan and Joey are sitting side by side in the back of the crowd.
Finegan is still trying to get his head around the idea that a little
girl could be in the competition.
Her father ran a pig farm, and they all escaped
when the troubles hit. Ran off into the swamp.
. . Well they go wild after a time. But she got
‘em back, is breeding ‘em tame again. . . OK,
so she’s got guts, I’ll give her that. . .
Finegan is shaking his head, muttering to himself. Joey says,
I watched her. . . It’s not what she says. It’s
what she gets other people to do. . . I dunno.
. . I dunno, but they’re fretting and fussing.
Then comes Matilda. Then when she leaves
they’re set to go off to do somethin. But I
never hear her tell them what to do. . . She
points to this or that one and asks a question.
That’s it. . . Huh.
Now Matilda is jumping up on the wagon, to thunderous applause.
Clem says I’m the jell in the jello, and my dad
always said I brung his mind to a focus, but to
my way of thinking it ain’t me. It’s you. It’s
you come up with what to do, and it’s you who
do it. But we rounded up the pigs now and I’ve
got more time. If this is what you want me to
do, then I’m happy to help.
119
With that, Matilda hops off the wagon and continues to work the crowd
on the edge of the seating area. Finegan is still dumbfounded.
Huh.
______________________________
Finegan and Joey are walking up over the hill between the flea market
and the houseboat, going home. They are silhouetted against the setting
sun. Sounds of cheering and whooping are in the background. Matilda is
being carried about on the shoulders of her backers, clearly having
won. Finegan and Joey look back over their shoulders at the uproar,
turning around to look back on the flea market for a moment. Finegan is
shaking his head.
I still can’t figure it . .
Joey is still trying to explain what he observed when Finegan was off
trading and he was trailing along behind Matilda. He puts both hands
first on one side and then the other, trying to indicate first
confusion and then resolve.
You should’a seed her. First folks were looking
worried. One lady looked like she was gonna
cry. Some guy red in the face. Then Matilda’d
come up and ask a bunch of questions. Then
everyone’d be smiling and Matilda’d walk away.
Joey looks up at Finegan to see if he’d gotten his point across.
I swear.
Finegan is pondering, but finally says,
. . or it’s the barbeque.
120
Canibals
The tide is coming in, waves slapping against the shore. Finegan and
Joey are pulling in the fishing net and sorting out the catch, putting
flapping fish and snapping crabs into a bucket and sweeping any twigs,
seaweed, or coke cans that got swept up into the net back into the
water. Gradually the incoming tide starts carrying more and more
floating debris. A partially empty soda bottle, tightly capped, comes
by. Splintered boards, a woven sewing basket, a child’s rag doll with a
smiling face, and finally a bloated dead body. The body has been
partially eaten by fish, but the belly, covered by shirt and pants, is
still intact and full of bloat. Finegan says,
I think I just lost my appetite.
______________________________
Finegan is at the rear of the houseboat, peddling to get some distance
from shore. Joey, who is sitting on a box at the rear, is looking back
toward shore. Joey says,
I think we’re clear. . . Was that gross or
what.
Finegan rolls off his bike seat and climbs up onto the houseboat roof
to get some perspective, shielding his eyes with his hand. He looks
back toward shore at first, then turns to look out toward deep water.
Oh Lord. . . Gets worse.
Joey jumps up to join Finegan, to see what he is looking at. They both
stand side-by-side, hands shielding their eyes.
In the distance is a conglomeration of rafts, made from pastel
insulation boards, pink and baby blue. The raft city seems to almost
fill the horizon, spreading from one side to the next, and is floating
closer to them on the incoming tide. Some of the rafts have soggy
cardboard boxes on them, half melted flat by repeated rainstorms. Some
items of clothing are thrown on the insulation boards here and there,
as though someone stripped and didn’t bother to pick up afterwards. An
empty pie tin, partially filled with rainwater, stands on one raft, the
sole item that raft contains.
Except for items of clothing, the rafts seem empty, and devoid of
people. The rafts are looped together by construction netting used to
keep the public from construction sites. This netting holds a half
dozen insulation rafts together in a neat rectangle, w
ith each
rectangle then tied to the others with rope. The raft city was
constructed, in desperation, as flood waters were overtaking an island.
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One of the rafts has a sign laid flat, which says “Ellis Construction”
in red lettering against a white background. What looks like rusty
reddish/brown paint smears are amid the red lettering and on the pastel
pink of the insulation board raft. An open pocketknife is laid on the
construction sign.
One of the soggy cardboard boxes begins to bump around, and a leg
sticks out. The foot is bare, no shoes, and the pants frayed and
tattered. The box bumps around some more and the cannibal’s head comes
out over the leg and knee, hands to his head, rubbing his eyes. His
hair is long, down to his shoulders. A young man, he is thin and
without a shirt over his tan shoulders and hairless chest. The cannibal
is not making any attempt to get up, as there is no activity that would
be fruitful. He is adrift without oars. He has no expression on his
face, no motive, and no agenda.
Finegan and Joey are standing, silently staring in his direction.
Seems to be someone there.
Finegan turns to return to his bike seat and pedal closer.
______________________________
The houseboat is approaching the side of the raft city where the
construction sign is located. The cannibal has now noticed the
approaching houseboat and is moving from raft to raft. He is springing
with a jump from the edge of one raft into the center of another, then
gaining his balance, and then repeating this process. The rafts sway
back and forth during this process, a bit of water temporarily
splashing over the side used as the jump-off.
The cannibal speaks in a husky voice, as though his throat is dry.
Boy am I glad to see you! Been too far from
shore to swim. We’d seen sharks. Can you give