Pikesville Junction

By W. Paul Apel

Welcome to Pikesville Junction, PA, home of the world's largest Christmas tree. It's only accessible by train, surrounded by mountains, blocked off by a deserted wasteland, haunted by a monster and blessed by magic. And 11-year-old Ray Haley has just moved in.
It's 1958 – the year Ray met the first girl he ever liked, the best friends he ever had, and the smartest and fastest German Shepard who ever lived. Most of all, it's the year Ray found his lost father and discovered the magical secret of his family, The Tree and Pikesville Junction itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: W. Paul Apel
• Release date: Dec 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310027819

W. Paul Apel

W. Paul Apel grew up in McMinnville, OR and went to school in Redlands, CA. He has worked as a cartoonist and film critic. He currently writes ad copy in Portland, OR.

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Pikesville Junction

Copyright 2015 W. Paul Apel

Published by W. Paul Apel at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Cover art by Aaron Percell.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

About the Author

Prologue

Everything in this story is true. It’s the story of how we lost my Dad and then found him again. It’s the story of the first girl I ever liked and the best friends I ever had. It’s the story of the smartest and fastest German Shepard who ever lived. It’s the story of the place I grew up: Pikesville Junction. A town surrounded by mountains, blocked by a desert, haunted by monsters and blessed by magic.

It starts with a tree and ends with a train on the night before Christmas. All through the valley nothing was stirring, except fate.

Chapter One

The first time I remember seeing The Tree in person I must have been 11 years old. That’s what they always called it back then, just like they do now – The Tree. Everyone knew what tree you were talking about. Even if you weren’t from Pikesville Junction. It was world famous and it was all thanks to my great-great grandpap, Raymond Haley the first. That made me Raymond Haley V but everyone called my Ray.

I must have seen The Tree before that. I was born in Pikesville Junction and lived there a few years before Dad got a job in the coal mines in Powhatan Point. But, that was long enough ago that I can’t remember. No Haley had ever left Pikesville Junction for good. It was scandalous at the time for Dad to just pick up and go. Everyone always said he was different from the other Haleys. I guess they shouldn’t have been so surprised.

Every morning when he left for the mine I would sit on the step and watch him go. The morning dew shimmering on the green grass, the black top more black than it seemed to be in the afternoons.

See you later, alligator, he’d say.

After a while, crocodile, I’d always reply.

We were okay there in Powhatan Point for a while and I remember it with fondness. Dad left the mine and became a local traveling salesman. Everyone in town knew him because he got around. I liked to walk up and down the streets with him because everyone would say hi to him. I’m not sure how he got on everyone’s good side with such ease. Mom used to say it was because he spent all his time at the Zanzibar, the bar down the street. There, he sat at the corner of the bar and told jokes instead of sitting at home with a family who needed him.

Back then Dad had matinee idol good looks. His looks might have been a little out of date, with his slicked back hair and pencil mustache. He was a few years late for the old-time Hollywood look. That, combined with his blue eyes and easy smile made Mom love him in the first place.

Mom was always more refined. She was pretty, but would have been prettier if she hadn’t worried so much. If she wouldn’t have had married Dad, she would have had less to worry about. Even back in Powhatan, he’d disappear for days and show up without explanation. Maybe he told Mom what he was up to, but neither of them ever told us.

Some nights, I’d hear them arguing through the wall while I tried to sleep. It was almost always the same.

Why don’t we go back to Pikesville Junction? Mom would ask.

What for? Dad would say. We have everything we need here.

Not our families, Mom said.

Maybe you need your family, but I don’t, said Dad.

Everyone needs their family, Mom said.

Not me. Dad never cared one bit for me, Dad said.

That’s ridiculous, said Mom.

Tell that to my old man, Dad said.

He just wants more for you, Mom said.

Nothing will ever be enough, said Dad.

Sometimes the conversation would end there. Others, either Mom or Dad would throw something, I don’t know which, maybe both. The plate or candlestick or whatever would smash against the wall. The screaming would pick up, and one of them would use us kids as a reason to quiet down. Then, Dad’s boots would stomp across the floor. The door would slam, and Mom would try to stay quiet while she cried. Looking back, I guess this is when he’d go down to the bar and tell jokes. The next morning, there’d be one more object around the house glued back together as if no one would notice.

I remember early on my sister, Judy, who was four years old than me, came to my room to sit with me while they yelled. At first I thought it was to comfort me. As the years went by and I got older, I began to realize she was the one who needed some company. She tried to act like she knew what was going on and that it all made sense.

Dad never lived up to the rest of the family, Judy would say as if it was a fact. All the other Haleys did great things and he never did. He turned his back on Pikesville Junction.

How? I would ask.

By leaving.

But, what did all the other Haleys do?

They built the town.

But how?

Don’t be stupid.

Judy was never able to tell me how the Haleys had built Pikesville Junction. I didn’t find out until later, when we moved back.

Sometimes when Dad got back from work he’d go out in the backyard and work in the garden. I’d go out and sit in the dirt and watch as the sun went down, and after a few drinks he’d start talking.

You know I always wanted to be a train engineer? he’d say. Get on those tracks and see the whole country. On the move every day. Never stopping. An engineer gets to see everything that’s out there instead of staying in one place.

Sometimes the train would whistle in the dusk and he’d look up and sigh. Wonder where she’s going? he’d say. Wonder where she’s been?

The fights got worse and more frequent. Dad was around less and less until one morning when I was 9, sitting on the front step as usual. It was a summer day, so the dew had already burned off and the humidity was rising. The black top looked as gray as the grass.

See you later, alligator, Dad said.

After a while, crocodile, I said back.

This time, he didn’t come back. He didn’t show up in the afternoon when he usually did. I was still waiting when the sun went down and the fireflies came out. Out of boredom, I captured one and trapped him in a birdie that went with our badminton set. I bounced him up and down in the sky.

We didn’t hear from him or about him for a couple years. Without missing a beat, Mom went to school to get her teaching degree. I never even heard her through the walls crying anymore. Judy spent most of her time watching me and making me Dinty Moore beef stew. Then, she'd complain that she could be out with her friends.

Sometimes I would ask Mom what happened to Dad. Mom always said she didn’t know and to stop talking about it. Judy said the same thing. I had an idea, though. I’d lay in bed awake at night and listen to the train whistle. I imagined Dad leaving for work that day and not stopping at the mine. Instead, he just kept walking until he got to the tracks. There, he waited for a train to come by, and then hopped a boxcar like a hobo. Where he went after that, I figured no one would ever know. But one day we did know.

Every year, everyone in town would leave to go see The Tree. When Dad was around, we were never allowed to go and never understood why. Dad would try to make a fun Christmas for us, but wouldn’t budge on The Tree. When the caravans of cars headed out of town, we never went along. And, it was the same after Dad left. Mom never took us to go see The Tree, either.

Growing up, we never had a Christmas tree until Christmas morning. All my friends’ families would set their trees up after Thanksgiving. Then they'd leave them up until after Christmas. But, Judy and I never got to see our tree until Christmas morning when we came out to open our presents. We’d go to sleep at night with nothing in the family room. Then, on Christmas morning, there’d be a big beautiful tree. All the decorations and lights arranged. A pile of presents at the base of the tree. The Lionel train I only saw once a year making its circular trek around everything.

I loved that Lionel train so much. Its rare yearly appearance would sometimes eclipse the actual presents I’d get. I almost always ended up playing with the Lionel all day and all evening. I'd fall asleep watching it go around and then wake up the next morning to find myself in my bed. Every year I’d rush back out just in case Christmas had stayed an extra day, but everything would be gone.

I was just about to turn 11 when our neighbor, Mrs. LeRoy, returned from her annual Tree visit in a fuss. She marched straight to our back door. She was a gaunt, severe woman with a cloud of gray hair that hovered around her head. She pounded on the back door until we all came, and squinted at Mom.

I found Raymond, Mrs. LeRoy said.

Where is he? Mom asked.

Mrs. LeRoy glanced at my sister, and then at me, then looked Mom right in the eyes.

You’re all from Pikesville Junction, ain’t you? she asked.

Yes, Mom said.

He went back, Mrs. LeRoy said.

Back to Pikesville Junction? Mom asked.

Yes, Mrs. LeRoy said. He’s a train engineer.

I knew it, I said.

That’s how we found ourselves driving back to Pikesville Junction. Mom got a job teaching at the Pikesville Junction elementary school. Though Judy protested, she packed everything up and we left Powhatan Point. I didn’t want to leave my friends, but I was calm compared to Judy who was almost in hysterics. The last time I had seen her so upset was earlier in the year when Elvis had shaved his head and joined the Army. At the time I figured it could never get that bad again, but it did. This time, instead of withdrawing into enraged silence, she tried to get personal.

Even if you follow that loser, he’s not going to want anything to do with you! she screamed in the Chevy as we rolled out of town. Ever since Dad had left, she’d taken to calling him that loser. Not usually in front of Mom, though.

I know what I’m doing, Mom said.

You don’t need him, Judy screamed.

I know, Mom said. But you and Ray do. And he needs you. And he doesn’t get to choose to leave us.

He already chose to leave us! Judy sobbed.

You’ll get to see Grandpap, Mom said. That’s what we called Raymond Haley III. And Grandma Fufu, Mom said. That is what we called Mom’s mom. When we were little we couldn’t say Grandma Flem. That's what everyone else called her. It was short for Fleming, Mom’s maiden name.

I don’t care, Judy said. You’re ruining my life.

You’ll get to see The Tree, Mom said.

I hate The Tree, Judy replied.

Despite the excitement of finally seeing The Tree, I didn’t dare interject. I didn't want to face Judy’s teenage wrath. I couldn’t remember what The Tree looked like, so, of course, I wanted to see it.

They say a monster cat lives in this desert, Mom said, plowing on.

That’s stupid, Judy said.

Well, that’s the local legend, Mom said.

What do you mean a giant cat? I asked.

They call it the Hell Cat, Mom said. A giant, black panther that prowls the desert. That’s why no one ever comes out here alone without a car, and most people go by train.

This isn’t even a desert, Judy said. Look around.

No, I guess not, Mom said. But they always called it a desert, growing up. Nothing useful grows out here. It’s a wasteland. Sure, there aren’t sand dunes, but it’s as good as frozen tundra. No one lives out here and hardly anyone visits unless they want to disappear.

I looked out the window. Mom was right. It might as well have been a desert. Empty fields stretched as far as the eye could see. The landscape was flat, but broken up by the soft rolls of hills every now and then. It would have been pretty if it had been a golden wheat field, or if there had been flowers or even green grass. Instead, the dry grass was colorless and the dirt was gray. Even the sky seemed pale with clouds overhead, not the blue it usually was this time of year in Powhatan. Dry winds kicked up dust clouds and tumbleweeds rolled across the road.

Dad wanted to disappear, Judy said.

How did the Hell Cat get giant? I asked.

They always said it drank from the same water that fed The Tree, Mom said.