The Last Forest Is a Train

How it begins

There was an oak tree in carriage six. Mina Hale knew because its roots had come looking for water in the dining car.

She followed them past the sleeping passengers, carrying a watering can and wearing the expression she reserved for railway managers who called living things decorative assets. At the connecting door, a root politely lifted out of her way. Beyond it, moonlight lay across a floor of moss.

Carriage six had contained twelve reclining seats at departure. Now it contained a forest.

Rafi Cole stood among the ferns, holding his conductor's punch. 'I've checked every ticket.'

'And?'

'Nobody has declared an oak.'

A nightjar called above him. The roof was still there, but farther away than the carriage dimensions allowed. Branches moved in a breeze Mina could smell but not feel. Damp earth. Leaf mold. The complicated green scent she remembered from childhood and had spent twenty years failing to recreate in station planters.

She set the watering can down.

Rafi watched her face. 'You know this place.'

'I knew a place like it.'

'The northern forest?'

She nodded. It had burned the summer her mother died. The last official survey had found no living trees. The railway built a memorial platform and planted six saplings in ornamental tubs. Mina had been hired to keep them alive. Only two had survived the winter.

Now an oak leaf brushed her sleeve. She recognized the split in its tip, though recognizing a leaf after forty years was impossible.

From the corridor came the squeak of a tea trolley. A passenger pushed through the door, stopped, and said the word that would ruin everything if Mina let it.

'Mine.'

He was looking at a small pear tree. Its fruit glowed faintly in the dark.

Mina stepped between his hand and the branch.

'This carriage,' she said, 'is not a shop.'

The train began to accelerate.