Brick

It's morning before the train starts to slow and my fear wakes, though I've not slept a wink. My friends are tense as Socrates goes forward to check in, only to have him come back with a look of relief and a handful of cans for breakfast.

"There's a clump of trees growing around the track ahead," he says. "They have to be cleared away before we can go on."

Duet hums over her can of preserved fruit, unaware we're all looking at her as if we've dodged some ...