#26 : Harvey - Down by the River

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Hours later, across town near the river, Harvey unlocked the door and entered the storage shed. He shut the door behind him then turned around and stared. He looked at the boat and nostalgia washed over him. He remembered his past. Harvey kept the boat stocked with non perishables so that he could take it out any time. He also kept a stash of booze in the shed.

Harvey was ready for some booze. He loaded a supply of hootch into his boat then hauled the boat to the water. It was time for some aquatic therapy. He was going to catch some fish and just chill.

It worked. Hours later after dark, he had the boat tied to a submerged tree deep in the marshy part of the lake. Powerboats never came there because of tree limbs and other obstructions just under the water. It was too dangerous to go fast. It was a rare powerboat that didn’t want to go fast. Harvey liked the solitude. He’d finished his meal of fish, cleaned up and poured a himself generous amount of Vodka. He laid back and chilled, remembering his past,

.... and how the hell he had wound up HERE!

During the war, one of the wars, there had been so many, shell fragments from friendly fire had penetrated his brain and ended his military career and almost his life. He had barely survived, then spent years in VA hospitals. Eventually the time came when he was healed well enough to rejoin civilian life. A nice VA lady had taken care of him. She had handled all the paperwork, and made all the phone calls. She had found him a job, a place to stay and had enrolled him in therapy. Part of the therapy had been to build a boat. They had only used hand tools. It had taken a lot of time to build a boat that way but that was a feature, not a bug. Building the boat had eased his mind. That had been the whole point, to ease his mind.

The boat was just gravy.

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After he had finished the therapy he’d rented a storage unit on the lake to store his boat and gear while he worked at the factory. On weekdays, holidays, and during his two week vacation every summer, he fished and camped on the lake and in the swamp . That was his schedule. That had been when he was on a schedule. His schedule had been broken. He’d been off schedule all week. He might never get back on schedule. It was wearing him down. He couldn’t focus. He was thinking new thoughts. He hadn’t had any new thoughts in almost two decades.

Long lost memories were picking themselves up, dusting themselves off, and clamoring for Harvey’s attention. It was unnerving. He needed more to drink. He took one. He took many. He sat in his small boat far into the night, swatted mosquitos, remembered and drank himself into oblivion.

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(morning)

The next morning at dawns early light Harvey woke up to the sunlight in his eyes. He had a headache. It wasn’t suprising he guessed. He’d drank a lot . He’d more than made up for the dry spell.

"What the hell is this?” He saw a gaudy ‘magic wand” laying on the floor of his boat beside the walking stick the he had traded for yesterday. He picked it up and swished it around idly.

“It’s too small to swat skeeters” he said

A translucent screen irised open at the end of the wand. A face floated in the air before it. It didn’t appear to be amused. Perhaps swatting skeeters wasn’t it’s idea of a fun thing to do.



“Greetings user.” The voice was growly and basso, not that of someone you’d want to annoy. “This unit requires a name for effective interaction. Please provide me with a name. ‘Hey you’ is not sufficient.”

Eeeeeek!” Harvey said, scooting as far away from the wand as he could. That wasn’t very far in a small boat.

“Acknowledged” the apparition said “my name is Eeek! Please hold the wand firmly in your hand.”

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