The houseboat is seen approaching a partially flooded pastureland, the
fence posts and wire running down a slope and into the water. At the
high end of the pasture are several wooden shelters, flat topped, for
goats. Goats are seen standing on the tops of their shelters, as well
as ranging in groups around the pastureland and clustering around a hay
dispenser.
A lean man, bow-legged and sprightly, comes striding down the pasture
toward the shoreline. The goat-herder is wearing faded blue jeans
several sizes too large, as he has lost weight. A leather belt is
cinching the pants, keeping them from falling down. The belt has
obviously been pulled several notches past their usual worn catch
point, tightened regularly lately. He has a stained white t-shirt that
has not seen Tide or bleach for many months, but looks like it has been
washed recently as it is not stained by sweat or dirt.
The goatherd seems to be following him, and gather behind him at the
shore. Curious, and following their herder as goats do without needing
any prodding. The goat-herder calls out.
Howdy. Need some help there?
Finegan has come to the front and is preparing to toss his grappling
hooks.
Nope, just give me a little room. . .
Mooring the houseboat, Finegan strides across the gangplank, his hand
outstretched.
Finegan Fine here, trader. No doubt I’ve got
something you need.
The goat-herder is rubbing the back of his head, dark hair obviously
cut by scissors, not professionally done. He extends an invitation.
34
Well, why don’t you come for supper and we’ll
discuss it. I’ll go over some of our problems.
Mebbe you can help. . . Goat cheese and roasted
pumpkin suit you?
______________________________
The goat-herder has fashioned a shelter for himself near the goat
shelters at the top of the hill. Various weathered boards, showing
signs of various paint colors in past lives, are nailed to form a lean-
to. The ends are open for ventilation, covered by cloth that can be
dropped down in cold weather, and the boards of the lean-to can be
lifted for light also. He cooks over a wood-burning stove placed under
a tarp, so rain is kept from the cooking area. A stovepipe carries the
smoke up above the tarp.
There are several bedraggled suburbanites sitting on a tree trunk,
waiting for supper. Their feet are covered with dust, as they have been
working a field all day. Though they look exhausted, they look
contented. Children are among them. Joey goes down the line, showing
the picture of his parents.
This was when they were a few years younger . .
Joey is not getting any response, and looks discouraged by the end of
the line.
The goat-herder has fashioned a table out of a board supported by
stools and boxes, and has chopped a couple pumpkins into sections.
These he slides into the wood stove oven, in a covered baking pan.
After brushing the table top clear, he brings out some goat cheese
wrapped in cloth from a cooler placed into a nitch in the rocks. He
slices this up and puts it on a plate, passing it down the line. Some
of the suburbanites hand the platter to Joey and Finegan, including
them as guests in the feeding line. The goat-herder explains.
What we got here is a two-step operation. Goats
will eat pretty much anything. . . Seems one of
these women (waving to the lineup) saved a lot
of pumpkinseed. Halloween, ya know. . . She saw
this coming. . . So we used up the last of Ms.
Granger’s diesel plowing her field and planting
them. Now we got pumpkin leaves to feed the
goats, and plenty seed for next year.
The crowd is nodding at all of this, confirming the tale.
Now we got nothing that works. Everything is by
hand. . .
35
Many in the crowd are nodding vigorously at this comment. Eyes rolling.
So, trader, here’s the deal. If you can help us
with the industrial revolution, we can give you
pumpkins and cheese!
The goat-herder turns back to the task at hand, pulling the roasting
pumpkin out of the oven and testing it with a long pronged fork.
______________________________
The next morning the goat-herder is silhouetted against the orange dawn
sky, seated on a stool next to a goat milking station, milking one of
his goats. He swings to the side to pour the milk from the milking
bucket into a milk cooler, tall and with handles on both sides at the
top. Finegan’s bare feet are sticking out of the houseboat. As the
goats bleat, greeting their herder, Finegan’s feet twitch.
______________________________
The goat-herder is squeezing whey out of cheese curds using rough cloth
squares to hold the curds. The whey is being saved as a drink, nothing
wasted. He slams the curd bag on the table to flatten it and form a
rectangle, flips the cloth this way and that to form a package, and
places the curd in a cooler to cure. The goat-herder, who has been
concentrating on his work, has just noticed that Finegan has quietly
arrived. He flashes a quick smile over his shoulder.
Morning!
Finegan says,
I’m ready when you are.
______________________________
Finegan and the goat-herder are approaching a collapsed barn, caved in
at the center, the roof shingles mostly missing. Farming implements are
here and there in the tall grass, devices meant to be dragged behind a
tractor – a raking device meant to collect hay, and a plowing device
with sharp tines meant to plow several rows at once. Finegan and the
goat-herder stride across the barnyard and into the doors of the barn,
now askew due to the collapse.
______________________________
Finegan is walking through the barn, used to house implements rather
than house cows or horses. He is walking slowly along a workbench at
the side, looking at tools laid out or hung on the walls. Several bikes
36
have been tossed into a corner, tires deflated or missing. The old
tractor stands in the center, covered with dust and a few splinters of
boards from the collapsed roof. Some chickens have been roosting in the
barn, and take off squawking as the men make their rounds. Finegan
asks,
So what are you folks doing by hand that you’d
like to have, ah . . mechanized?
______________________________
Joey is tossing some nuts and bolts back into a box, one of many that
has been brought from the houseboat, and placing the boxes back into
the old rusty wagon from the houseboat. Finegan is sitting on a stool,
hunched over what looks like an assemblage of junk, making his final
adjustments. He stands up and stands back, a look of satisfaction on
his face. The goat-herder and the suburbanites are walking up at one
side, and stand in a group, expectantly. Finegan says, proudly,
Behold!
The group does not react, is unimpressed and confused. What does this
contraption do?
Realizing they are not following his genius, Finegan gives a
demonstration. He climbs into a bike seat, one of a pair for a dual
pumping operation. He pats the other seat and motions to the goat-
herder to hop on.
Each seat has a lever, so the contraption can turn by one bike seat
disconnecting while the other stays connected. Thus, the contraption
can turn 180° to the left or the right, depending upon which seat has
disengaged. Finegan waves the watching group away.
Stand back!
Finegan is murmuring instructions to the goat-herder, then pushes a
lever on a control panel between the two bike seats. They both start
peddling and the contraption takes off.
From front to back, it is a multistep operation to clear, plow, and
plant. At the front of the long contraption are lawn mover blades,
recently sharpened, turning round and round. They have been lowered by
37
the lever on the control panel, and turn as the contraption moves,
cutting any weeds on the row about to be planted. Next, along the
contraption, is a rake, one taken from the large raking farm implement
in the yard. The cut weeds are thus swept aside, and can be collected
later for hay if desired. Next along the long contraption, are dual
plow blades, also lowered by the lever on the control panel.
And last, just behind the seated men, is a seed dispenser, which is a
cup ending in a funnel that lifts up and down like a pecking hen,
releasing and placing a couple seeds every foot or so. When the seed
dispenser lifts, an old boot at the end of a pole is stamped down on
top of the spot, tamping the seed into the dirt. The seed dispenser and
tamping boot are attached and under the control of a wheel that turns
as the contraption moves along. Finegan is ready to demonstrate.
Lets go.
They begin peddling and the contraption moves through the tall grass
for a few feet. Finegan throws a lever at his side, disengaging his
side, and throws the lever at the control panel, lifting the mower, the
rake, the plow, and halting the seed dispenser. The goat-herder
continues pumping until the contraption has turned 180°. Finegan re-
engages the levers and the pair plow a second row alongside the first.
38
Zombies
Joey and Finegan are loading the last of the pumpkin exchange aboard,
distributing them along the sides of the house atop various boxes or in
niches. The goat-herder comes up with a couple packs of goat cheese,
walking up the plank and handing them to Finegan. He nods and smiles at
Finegan.
Been a pleasure.
As he is walking back down the plank he remembers something, raises a
finger and the air and turns.
Going up river past Millstown?
Finegan nods an affirmative.
Watch out for them zombies! Some never left.
They’re like the living dead.
______________________________
The houseboat is moving up the center of a broad, slowing flowing
river. The rise in sea level has swollen the river as well as the
coastline, so tree limbs are sticking out of the water on either side.
A river-edge town appears in the distance, the streets flooded and all
the buildings under water at least into the second floor. There are no
high rise buildings, but there are several multi-story brick buildings
that serve as the business district. The river front eateries and piers
are all under water, with only the top of a sign occasionally sticking
above the water. One says “Millstown”.
Some stick thin, very pale people begin to emerge from the rooftop
stairwells, shuffling toward the edges of the buildings. They stare
silently at the approaching houseboat, not waving or calling out.
Finegan sticks to the center of the river. Joey hops down from his
station atop the roof and sits down on the deck, putting his arm around
Barney as they silently glide past the scene.
______________________________
Finegan is mooring the houseboat for the night, tying it to a sturdy
tree trunk toward the center of the river. Given the scene at
Millstown, he does not want to be close to shore. He is ready for a
good supper and a solid night’s sleep not interrupted by bleating goats
being milked at dawn. He is setting up his camper stove and putting a
couple fresh coals in the firepit, not yet lit, when he jerks his head
39
up suddenly, hearing the sound of an oar dipping into the water,
splashing.
A single man is approaching in a canoe, swinging his paddle from one
side to the other to steer the canoe toward the side of the houseboat.
He wears a broad brimmed hat, a faded flannel shirt, and faded loose
cut jeans. He is balding and middle-aged.
Finegan motions for Joey to catch the end of the canoe and tie the line
the man is tossing to the houseboat, while Finegan stands back in case
there is trouble. Passing the city earlier, he has his pistol at his
back. The man in the canoe asks,
Did you pass a town awhile’s back? River front
town. Millstown.
The man heaves himself onto the deck and fishes a map out of his back
pocket. He opens it and places it against a pile of boxes, running his
finger up and down the river and poking at the riverfront town they
have just passed.
My mother’s there. Or I think she might be. . .
We talked just before the trouble started and
she said she wasn’t going to leave. . . Been
there all her life. . . Taken me all this time
to work my way across the country. I’ve got to
check.
Finegan’s eyes meet Joey’s, a wordless understanding between them that
Finegan is going to help this man. Simultaneously, they both speak.
Joey says,
I’m going with you!
While Finegan says,
You stay here.
They continue to stare at each other, wordlessly. Finegan sighs and
steps into the house and returns with a rifle, handing this and some
ammo to the man. He hands the sheathed hunting knife to Joey and squats
beside Joey with instructions.
Only if someone makes a move on you, OK? Keep
it in the leather or you’ll cut yourself.
______________________________
The canoe is moving downriver, both Finegan and the traveler manning an
oar, the traveler to the rear as he is more experienced with canoeing.
Joey is seated in the center, holding the rifle upright. They steer to
40
the shore upriver of the town, pulling the canoe on land and setting
off on foot through the woods toward the city.
______________________________
The threesome are walking along a deserted street not yet flooded. The
residences at Millstown run up into the hills, only the business
district along the waterfront flooded. Victorian houses, tumbled down
with some completely collapsed, are lining the street. All the yards
and flowers and bushes are overgrown, fences broken and a
ny painted
surface looking very weathered. Most of the windows are broken, and
most doors are hanging open.
The traveler is peering at any address number still visible on the
houses, and finally, somewhat excited, finds his childhood home.
There it is.
He is running now, Finegan and Joey bringing up the rear while trying
to look around them as they do, sometimes running backwards to do so.
The traveler bursts through the front door, which has been ajar but not
hanging open.
______________________________
The threesome are standing in the living room of the Victorian style
home. The furniture is old fashioned, tassels hanging from lamp shades
and over-stuffed chairs and sofa. The traveler has apparently searched
the house and found a note on the refrigerator door. He is holding the
yellowed piece of paper in his hand, staring at it.
She says she’s going to Atlanta with a group of
people. The phones are down, and there’s
nothing to eat.
The traveler looks up at Finegan and then down at Joey, connecting with
their faces briefly, then goes back to staring at the note.
That’s it. That’s all I’ve got. Off to Atlanta,
I guess. . . That’s the state capital.
They turn to go out the front door and suddenly freeze. There are
zombie people at the front door. The zombie people are at the windows
too. Finegan speaks quietly, so that only he and Joey and the traveler
can make out what he’s saying.
They look malnourished, not mean. I hear they
refused to leave the town.
Nobody is moving, all frozen, so finally Finegan has a plan.
41
Backs together now, let’s just push our way out