Turn Off To Dead End Junction

by Jeff Baker

“This is a crazy idea,” Ernie said.

“Not that crazy,” Woody replied. “Nobody’s going to come here! The sign’s a perfect deterrent.”

The sign on the old power pole by the side road read “Dead End.” The dirt and gravel turnoff from the old highway led to a wall of greenery blocking any entrance.

“But it’s not a dead end, is it?” Ernie asked.

“Nope,” Woody said. “Just got to be discreet.”

The car turned onto the dirt road and Woody double-checked that there were no cars coming. Traffic was unlikely since it was mid-afternoon and there was a big four-lane highway a mile or so east of there.

Woody quickly grabbed a hidden pole in the leaves and branches and in another minute the green swung inward like a door. Driving the car through Woody then shut the gate behind them.

They were in a one-lane corridor with the trees on either side forming a canopy of branches and leaves overhead. They drove slowly for a few yards.

“There we are,” Woody said.

There was a cluster of small houses under the canopy, most of them with a car parked to the side.

“We have some rules,” Woody said. “No lights on outside the houses, especially at night. No cooking with fire. The lights and the smoke would give us away. And obviously no driving around here at night. Headlights.”

“Do you have electricity?” Ernie asked.

“Yes. One of our guys jury rigged a patch to an underground city electrical cable. We don’t use much so it goes unnoticed.”

“Plumbing?” Ernie asked.

“We have a communal bathroom in that building over there.” He pointed to one side. “It’s sanitary and clean and warm. Unfortunately it’s the only building with running water. It’s attached to a city water and sewer line. Again, the usage is so small that so far the city hasn’t noticed.”

Woody smiled. “If you remember your Grandmother’s old washbasin on the farm, we use those for real now. Every home keeps a couple of jugs of water and a couple of basins.”

“What about winter?” Ernie asked. “How do you keep warm?”

“We have a system involving pipes and steam.” Woody said. “We have to monitor it but it seems to work and it’s discreet. And when it snows, the snow and ice come in handy.” He grinned. “We actually have an ice house. Perfect for storing meats and the like.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ernie said. “After forty-plus years in the rat race with no family left I’m ready to just chuck civilization and kick back.”

“Luckily some of us have money,” Woody said. “A necessary evil. And we make occasional trips to the store.”

“And nobody has found out about you?” Ernie asked.

“So far, no.” Woody said. “We aren’t that far from the city but we are off the beaten path. And nobody is going to come looking in a wooded area just off a highway hardly anybody uses anymore.”

“No taxes, no bills…” Ernie mused.

“Nope.” Woody said with a smile. “It’s kind of back to nature except we use a grocery store. Discreetly.”

“Does this place have a name?”

Woody laughed. “Somebody started calling it Dead-End Junction, but we don’t have a train.”

“Okay,” Ernie said with a smile. “Show me around and I may sign up.”

—end—