Tales of Junction

by Davis IV, John L.

“Hard to tell. Maybe just a pilgrim, but I don’t like him.”

  “Alright. Who’s at the gate?”

  “Danni stayed on. I’m going back so she can get some rest. I’ll leave Moses for you to deal with for now.”

  “He calls himself Moses?”

  “No, I came up with that one. You’ll see.”

  “Tell Danni not to forget where that shotgun came from.”

  Mitch nodded as he walked away. The fat man didn’t really run Junction but he sure as hell acted like it sometimes. Mitch kept the thought to himself as he returned to his post.

  Filler slowly crossed the gloomy dining hall. Despite his bulk he glided effortlessly between the rickety tables and chairs disturbing neither. As he approached the table where “Moses” sat indelicately devouring a bowl of stew the disheveled man greeted him without looking up from his meal.

  “Hail Caesar.”

  “Filler. My name is Filler. You’ll do well to remember that. What’s yours?”

  “Would not a rose by any other name smell just as sweet?”

  “Cut the shit and answer me or get the fuck out of my sight.” A ham sized fist landed on the table for emphasis as Filler loomed over the man.

  “Names Johnson.”

  “What brings you to Junction?”

  “Twern’t Mormons.”

  “Alright Johnson, just keep this in mind. You’re already in my debt for one bowl of stew and unless you want to sleep with the pigs tonight you’d better start making sense.”

  “The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls. Does Junction have a subway, a temple?”

  “A temple? You mean like a church? No. Right after we built this place, this building, people came here to pray together, but the preacher died that first winter and nobody ever took his place.”

  “Fear is the mind killer. Lay your fears aside for I will bring your people together under one roof, this very roof, that they may know the wisdom of the truth.”

  “Sure, you will. Here’s the deal, Johnson, keep the crazy to a minimum and don’t run up a debt you can’t repay, we’ll get along just fine.”

  “I shall render unto Filler that which is Filler’s.”

  “I’m sure you will.” With that, Filler rose to his full height and returned to the kitchen, stopping briefly to bellow at the serving girl, “Start a tab for Johnson. I’ll want to see it at the end of the day.”

  That evening as Filler looked over the day’s receipts, he paid special attention to Johnson’s transactions. The newcomer had eaten two meals and bathed. Not many people took the opportunity to bathe while they were in Junction. To Filler’s surprise, Johnson had not purchased any companionship or liquor. Over the years Filler had learned to read people based on nothing more than their purchases. Johnson, however, was not fitting into the standard mold. Unless he had gone to Janet’s to fulfill his desires the man was an enigma. Filler made a mental note to keep tabs on him, maybe even talk to Janet.

  The next day, Filler was making his usual rounds, checking to see that his girls had been keeping the stills clean, seeing that the hog pens were secure, the garden tended. As he passed through the kitchen on the way back to his office, he clearly heard one of the girls mention something about attending church. He was already in his office when the words finally sunk in. Perhaps crazy Johnson was serious about holding services. He decided to find the man and ask him.

  “Anyone seen Johnson?” Filler’s voice broke up the trio of kitchen staff who had been huddled giggling near the large stew pot.

  One of the girls smiled and pointed to the dining area. There, seated at the table, was a somewhat distinguished man with short hair reading from a thick tattered book and making notes on a single sheet of paper. Filler was instantly angered that he had not been informed about yet another new comer and went to set the fellow straight.

  “Hail Filler. The man who doth bestride the narrow world.”

  “Johnson?” Filler had stopped mid stride. The clean cut, freshly shaven man looking up from his book was the same mess of a human being who had arrived only the day before. “You clean up well for a crazy man.”

  “Am I? Or are the others crazy?”

  “Whatever you say, Johnson. Now, are you planning on having church here? And when?”

  “On the morrow, fair fellow.”

  “Alright then.” Filler started to walk away then turned to have another look at Johnson. The man was handsome. His complexion clear, his face bore only one small scar on the cheek which seemed only to add to his good looks. His hair, now brushed and clean, was sandy colored with strands of grey, the bangs hanging over the right eye. It occurred to Filler that some of his girls might be tempted to give Johnson “a freebie.”

  By afternoon all of Junction was buzzing with the news. The stranger in town would be leading them in prayer and preaching the gospel to anyone who cared to attend. The meeting would be held at Filler’s the following morning.

  Most of Junction turned up for the services. It wasn’t that they were all that religious, but rather that there simply wasn’t much in the way of entertainment these days. Stories of the outside world were valued by everyone in town. Even Filler and old doc Shoup were known to accept a decent story as payment for services. As such, an opportunity to hear the stranger talk at length on any subject at all was an event that few were willing to miss.

  As people began to arrive at Filler’s, the serving girls saw to everyone’s needs. Their boss had given them specific instructions. Anyone who came in for the sermon should be pressured into a purchase of water and food. The girls did their best to keep Filler happy. Not out of fear, he wasn’t violent with them, it was more out of respect. He kept them safe and few men had done that in this world. That alone was enough to earn their loyalty it seemed.

  Eventually the man called Johnson came from one of the back rooms to stand at the end of the large dining hall. He waited there for only a few seconds as the patrons repositioned their chairs then fell silent before he cleared his throat and began to speak.

  His voice was loud enough to be easily heard by all. His tone, the inflection, the eye contact, all on a par with the great orators of days long gone. The congregation remained fixed, unmoving throughout the sermon. Not one person dared to make a sound until Johnson had finished, turned and walked slowly back to his little room. Even then it seemed to take several minutes before anyone moved. Slowly the residents of Junction began to rise and make their way to the door.

  Once outside, people began to speak of the sermon. Relating their favorite bits.

  “He’s right you know. What we have here in Junction is a failure to communicate.”

  “The beginning was best.”

  “Tomorrow is another day. We can be certain of that.”

  “Junction is not the stuff that dreams are made of.”

  Inside the building, the girls in Filler’s employ were washing dishes while having a similar conversation about the wonderful Johnson who had brought with him a “new hope.”

  Filler was not at all interested in the sermon. In fact, he had not bothered to listen to a single word, choosing instead to remain in his little office. Later, he would judge the proceedings based on nothing more than the day’s receipts, just as he based all his decisions. Still, he could not help but hear the excitement in the girl’s voices as they went about their labors later that day.

  Janet gave a solid knock on the closed door then waited several seconds before knocking even louder. Through the door she could hear the squeak and scrape of a chair and some grunts that sounded a bit like “come in.” She opened the door slowly and peered into the little room. Shelves lining the walls were crammed with books. Behind the table, Doc Shoup was rubbing his eye’s, glasses pushed up on his forehead.

  “Hey Doc, got a minute?”

  “Fewer with each passing day, I’m afraid.”

  “Sorry to wake ya Doc, but I wanted to ask if you had attended that sermon this morning.”

>   “I did.” As he spoke he retrieved a second glass from a drawer and began to fill them both from the ever-present bottle on his desk.

  “What did you think?”

  “Whaddaya mean?” Sliding one of the glasses toward Janet.

  “I mean, all my girls can talk about is this Johnson fella and his sermon. They won’t shut up about it.”

  “And you want my opinion? Well I’ll tell ya.” Doc emptied the coffee mug of liquor before continuing. “It was horseshit! Absolute horseshit. That man plagiarized every famous book, movie and song known to western civilization, when there was a western civilization that is.”

  “You think he’s crazy?”

  “No, but I think anyone who listens to him for long will be. Still, it was entertaining.”

  “So, I’m told.” Janet up-ended the glass, emptying it. “Thanks Doc. I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

  “I was just dozing a bit. Stay for another drink if you like.”

  “Alright, Doc. One more couldn’t hurt.” Janet pushed the empty glass towards the old man. He was clearly correct in his statement about having fewer minutes. Old age showed on his creased face and spotted hands. “Think you’ll go to any more of Johnson’s sermons?”

  “Sermon? I’m not sure that’s the proper word for what he did today, but if nothing else he does put on a fine show. I’ll most likely attend the next one. How about you? Just out of curiosity maybe?”

  “Guess it wouldn’t kill me to go just once, see what all the fuss is about.”

  “Stop by beforehand and we’ll toast your new-found dedication to the gospel. Hell, maybe Johnson can convert you. Make you into one of those born-again virgins.”

  Janet nearly spit her drink out at that. “Dammit Doc! I nearly wasted good liquor. On that note, I best get back over to my place before the girls start pulling hair. Thanks for the drink. Enjoy your nap.”

  Doc started to protest but thought better of it. He had been dozing a bit and even if he hadn’t there was no point in arguing with the madame. Janet was a tough old broad. Doc liked that about her, he thought to himself as he drained his cup one last time before leaning back in the rickety chair and closing his eyes.

  Filler had eyes and ears all over junction, mostly in the form of his employees. They were all working girls who typically gleaned information behind closed doors, but not one of them had shared any information about Johnson, apart from stating how handsome they found him or how politely he interacted with them. Not once had Johnson purchased time with a single woman in Junction. At first Filler had thought that Johnson was going to Janet’s to buy companionship, but his sources there had confirmed that this was not the case. The man had not once paid for a woman or for liquor in the weeks since his arrival. Johnson ate two meals a day and bathed once a week. Filler gave the man credit for consistently filling the dining hall and certainly couldn’t complain about the increased revenue. Johnson, it seemed, was a man of his word. Still, Filler had a bad feeling about the newcomer.

  During the week that followed, each of the women in Filler’s employ came to him to discuss her account. From experience, Filler knew that most people only became concerned with their financial standings when they were planning to leave Junction. It was not uncommon for a girl to join up with a group of migrating pilgrims and Filler rarely denied a request for emancipation, provided the individual’s debt was not excessive. However, to have every one of his employees considering this at roughly the same time was more than a bit unsettling, but then to have Johnson himself knocking on his door, that was more than any business man could be expected to deal with.

  “Hail Filler!”

  “What do you want, Johnson?”

  “I believe that God has planted in every heart the desire to live in freedom.”

  “That’s great Johnson. Still doesn’t answer my question.”

  “I’ve been locked inside your heart shaped box. Forever in debt to your priceless advice.”

  “You owe me nothing. You’ve consistently brought in customers and asked little in return. We’re square for now.”

  “The wage of sin is money spent.”

  “Save it for the sermon,” Filler said dismissively, turning his attention to the ledgers on his desk.

  “Debts and lies are often mixed together.”

  Filler slowly rose to his full height, “Johnson, I don’t know what you are getting at, but I’m certain that I don’t like it.”

  “To pay one’s debts is honorable. To pay another’s is admirable.” With that Johnson turned and left the cramped office.

  Johnson was giving his sixth sermon in as many weeks. As usual, nearly all of Junction was present to hear the man’s cryptic words.

  “Rebellions are built on hope.” Johnson looked up from his notes then continued, “Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.”

  Murmurs of approval could be heard throughout the room. Heads nodded in agreement. Female heads mostly. Johnson took advantage of the moment to make eye contact with several of the ladies before continuing.

  From their location in the kitchen, Janet and Filler listened to the sermon. They could not see Johnson, preferring to situate themselves in such a way as to facilitate watching the congregation. The clear majority of whom were in their respective employ.

  As the sermon seemed to near its end, Filler moved to the back door of the kitchen, motioning for Janet to follow him outside.

  Once alone, in a voice not much louder than a whisper he asked, “Well? What do you think?”

  It took only a second for the foul-mouthed madam to formulate her answer.

  “Houston. We have a problem.”

  Filler’s face flushed with anger. He didn’t care much for the proprietor of Planet Janet’s. Mostly because she was his primary competition with regards to arranging companionship, but also, because in their years at Junction she had not once been in debt to him. Making light of their current predicament was not going to improve on the relationship.

  “Let’s meet later, after sundown, at Doc’s. Maybe we can come up with a solution to our problem.”

  “What about Mitch? Do you want him in on this?”

  “Good call, but nobody else. People find out we are talking to each other, they are bound to figure out that something is up.”

  “We could let it slip that we are having an affair.” Janet stifled a laugh as she walked away, careful to stay close to the wall and out of sight as people could be heard leaving the dining hall.

  Doc’s little office was a bit crowded, not because there were four people present, but because Filler was big enough for two men and Janet was not especially small herself. Each of them held a glass. Both Filler and Mitch Burton rarely drank, but Doc was their host tonight and it seemed only polite.

  Filler took a sip from his cup and began, “Janet and I have already discussed this, and we agree that Johnson is up to no good. My guess is that he plans to leave soon and take damn near all the women with him.”

  Mitch Burton had known that something serious was up when he saw that both Filler and Janet were together in the same place. “I’m not sure why I’m here.” Taking a small sip from his glass. “If the ladies want to leave there really isn’t anything we can do to stop them.”

  “Mitch, you know that those women are as good as dead once they leave here with that mad man.”

  “No, Filler, I don’t know that for certain and even if I did, it wouldn’t change my point of view. Unless they are deep in debt to someone here, they are free to go. It’s that simple.”

  Janet spoke up now, “Look boys. We’re talking about losing half the population of Junction. The important half. These girls aren’t just whores. They tend the gardens, feed the hogs, work the stills, cook the meals and man the guns when needed. These women are the backbone of Junction. Without them, our little community will cease to exist.”

  Filler was impressed by the old madam’s words. Clearly, she had given this some thought and tr
uly understood the gravity of the situation. Still, Mitch was not swayed.

  “I get the distinct feeling that you two are asking me to take part in some devious plot to eliminate Johnson. Well, I’ll have no part of it. Furthermore, be damn careful what you do inside the walls. My jurisdiction ends at the gates. If you’re gonna do anything severe make sure it happens outside the gates. Is that understood?”

  Filler and Janet nodded agreement. Satisfied that he had made his position clear, Mitch placed his glass on Doc’s desk and left without saying another word.

  “Well Doc, you got any ideas on how we can get rid of Johnson without destroying Junction?”

  Doc refilled his coffee cup from the bottle of liquor sitting in the middle of his desk. “Mitch is right. We can’t kill the bastard. Least ways not openly. Besides, these poor girls are so warped by him at this point, you may just martyr him and they all leave anyway.”

  The fat man’s facial expression turned from one of determination to weariness as Doc’s words sunk in.

  Doc continued, “Let’s give it a couple days and meet again. I’ll do some research. See what I can find in my books.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Janet drained the glass and added,” Two days,” before slipping out the door.

  Filler set his empty glass on the desk, covering it with his hand as Doc again picked up the bottle. “Doc, this is getting out of hand. We can’t let him get away with it.”

  “As it stands, there isn’t much we can do about it. Get some rest, things will be clearer after a good night’s sleep.” Doc leaned back in his chair and put his feet on his desk, his eyes already little more than slits.

  Filler spent the day pouring over his books in hopes of finding something he could use to get rid of Johnson. By afternoon his head was throbbing from the strain. He decided that perhaps he should go outside for a while. Maybe spend some time with the hogs. Watching them was somehow relaxing, probably because, “Hogs always make you money.”

  At this same time, Johnson sat in his room, pouring over the tattered book he held so dear. Reading his favorite parts over and over again. His lips moved slightly as his fingers slid gently over the page. Mumbling quietly to himself, “For Brutus is an honorable man.”