Night Train

by David Quantick

“No,” said Banks. “I think I’ll stick with Banks. It’s more me.”

  “Thanks, Banks,” said Poppy, and snorted until chocolate came out of her nose.

  “I’m going to have a nap,” Banks said, when Poppy had finally stopped. “Some way over there.”

  * * *

  Banks’s snores faded into muttered grunts.

  “A couple of things I don’t understand,” Garland began.

  “Here we go,” Poppy said.

  “What?”

  “After the action, the inquisition.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes you do,” said Poppy. “This is like when I was – before. Whenever I came back from a race, even if I’d won – and I always did win – there would be the inquiry. The questions. The interrogation.”

  “I was just –”

  “People always are just.”

  Poppy sighed. “Go on, then,” she said. “The couple of things you don’t understand.”

  “Let’s leave it.”

  “Let’s not.”

  A few seconds passed.

  “All right then,” said Garland. “First of all, the train was moving. How did you get back on so easily?”

  “Easily?” asked Poppy. “I nearly lost a finger. I nearly lost a foot. With these things –” she held up her hands, “– a lot of things are possible. I could go through you like butter. But a moving train? I had to dig in. Run, and dig, and climb, and dig, and climb.”

  She shook her head. “‘Easily’,” she said. “There’s gratitude.”

  “Oh,” said Garland. “No. I’m not taking that. I am grateful. Banks is too. I can’t tell you how grateful. But –”

  “And now,” said Poppy, in the graceful tones of a television announcer, “the but.”

  Garland ignored her.

  “Back there,” she said, “you could have died.”

  “No shit,” Poppy said. “That thing was heavy.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Poppy shrugged. “I could have died a lot of times. We all could.”

  “Yes, but all those other times when we could have died, it wasn’t a choice. But you chose to engage that creature.”

  “I didn’t choose,” Poppy said. “I just went for it, without thinking. Lucky for you. If the train hadn’t been moving, and I’d had a moment to think about it, I might not have gone back after it.”

  “You think so?”

  “No idea,” Poppy said cheerfully. “Anyway, it’s done.”

  “It’s done,” Garland agreed. “You got back on the train, even though it was moving and there was a monster on top of it, and even though the last thing you wanted to be doing was getting back on the train.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “I would. Tell me –” Garland fixed Poppy with a look far steelier than usual, “– which was harder: attacking that creature, or getting back on the train?”

  Poppy returned Garland’s gaze.

  “Like I said,” she replied. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  * * *

  The sky was full of lights now, distant explosions of red and yellow that burst too far away to illuminate the night landscape.

  “I wonder what’s out there,” said Poppy.

  “It can’t just be stations,” Garland replied.

  “I don’t see why not. The world could just be stations, for all we know. No more cities, no more towns. Just stations.”

  Poppy unwrapped one last bar of chocolate.

  “The stations of the cross,” she said. “Or at least,” she added, looking at the explosions blooming in the distance, “the very angry.”

  Suddenly, Garland sat up in her seat.

  “Banks?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

  Poppy turned, and saw that Banks was twisting and turning in his seat at the other end of the carriage, his face and hands flattened against the window.

  “I think he can see something,” she said.

  “Too right I can see something,” came Banks’s muffled voice. “Come and look!”

  They were on a long bend. The train was curving as it sped along.

  * * *

  “Oh my Lord,” Garland said.

  Banks said, “I was starting to think there wasn’t one.”

  “This window is filthy,” Poppy complained. “I can’t see anything.”

  Banks pulled her over.

  “There,” he said.

  “Jumping fuck,” said Poppy.

  * * *

  Outside the murky glass, hard to see but just about distinguishable from the lights of the carriages, slightly ahead of the bend, was the front of the train.

  * * *

  “How near are we?” Garland said.

  “I’m trying to count the carriages,” said Banks. “There’s a lot.”

  “I bet some of them are buffet cars,” Poppy said.

  * * *

  After a while the track straightened out again and they sat down.

  “I can’t quite believe it,” said Garland.

  “It’s just a train,” Poppy pointed out. “It’s got to have an end.”

  “Everything’s got to have an end,” agreed Banks.

  “It’s there. It’s out there,” Garland said. “We’ve spent so long getting here, and it’s there. It’s –”

  “– attainable,” said Banks.

  * * *

  Poppy said, “The thing that got me was how ordinary it was. The front of the train, I mean. Does it have a name? Is it the engine? The tender? The puller?”

  “It’s not called the puller,” said Banks. “I know what you mean, though. I feel like it should be more dramatic.”

  “Like maybe it should have had flags on the front, or horns,” said Garland.

  “Or teeth,” Poppy said. “Huge metal ones, with blood on them.”

  There was a short silence after that.

  “Maybe not teeth,” Poppy conceded.

  * * *

  The train sped on through the night.

  “This is where someone says we should all get some sleep because we’ve got a long day tomorrow,” said Poppy.

  “You say it, I’m exhausted,” Banks replied. Garland merely continued snoring.

  Poppy began to drift into sleep. Banks covered her with the edge of the kitbag.

  “Thanks, Banks,” she murmured.

  Banks sighed.

  * * *

  “Banks,” said Poppy, half awake, “was there really a shark back there?”

  Banks replied with a long, gentle snore.

  “I knew it,” said Poppy, and closed her eyes.

  * * *

  Hours passed and they all slept deeply.

  * * *

  In the ceiling of the carriage, a small light came on, blinked red for a few seconds, and went off again.

  * * *

  Further down the train, another red light came on. It too blinked red, but instead of turning off, it began to blink out a repeating sequence of flashes, finally attracting the attention of a light-sensitive monitor set into the wall. The monitor registered the series of flashes, and responded to the signal by accessing a series of cameras up and down the train. Some of the cameras were damaged, and others had been destroyed, but most were still working.

  One of the working cameras was in the carriage where Banks, Poppy and Garland were now asleep. It began to film them as they slept.

  * * *

  “Anyone hungry?” Banks asked.

  Poppy shook her head. “Can you get a hangover from eating chocolate?” she asked, reaching for a bottle of water.

  “The amount you ate, I’m surprised you’re still alive,” said Garland.

  “Chocolate can’t kill you,” Poppy said.

  “It can if you’re a dog.”

  “Yes,” said Poppy, “but I’m not a dog.”

  * * *

  Unseen by them, the camera continued to film.

  * * *

  “Are we ready?�
� Poppy said.

  “Unless you want the toilet again,” Banks said.

  “There’ll be other toilets,” said Poppy.

  “Let’s just go,” said Garland.

  Banks hoisted the kitbag onto his shoulders and they made their way down the carriage.

  “How many carriages?” Garland asked again.

  She sounded nervous.

  * * *

  The next carriage was so odd it almost seemed to be showing off. There were zebra-skin couches with platform boots for feet, old photographs hung upside down on the walls, a carpet made of repeating images of someone wearing a large crown, and an old bath painted gold and filled with rubber bats.

  “It’s trying too hard,” said Garland.

  “I know what you mean,” Poppy agreed. “What’s this?” she said, stopping by a garish block of transparent red and yellow plastic material. Its innards were visible and filled with black slices of plastic.

  “It’s a jukebox,” said Banks. “Young people, I don’t know.”

  He looked at the box. There was a typewritten list pasted to its front. Banks began to read out loud.

  “‘Downbound Train Chuck Berry Love In Vain Robert Johnson Rail Gaadi Chirag Pehchan Mangal Singh Morningtown Ride,” he read in a monotone.

  Then he jabbed at some small numbered and lettered buttons.

  After a moment, he stopped.

  “It doesn’t work,” he said, sounding disappointed.

  “Of course it doesn’t,” said Poppy. “It’s not even plugged in.”

  Just as she was pointing at a flex which dangled uselessly from the back of the box, one of the plastic slices suddenly detached itself from a metal arm and flopped down onto a column.

  An awful tearing noise issued from the box. Banks kicked it, and it subsided into a crackle. Then music began to play.

  “This is different,” said Garland.

  * * *

  A thoughtful voice began to sing over a galloping beat. It was a beautiful voice, and it sang in a beautiful language.

  * * *

  “I can’t understand it,” said Poppy, frowning.

  * * *

  “Listen to the rhythm,” Banks said. “It’s a train song. They’re all train songs.”

  * * *

  “I know what he’s singing,” said Garland. “I don’t know how, but I do.”

  She listened for a moment, then said:

  “My princess, my princess is gone

  Never to return

  I have waited so long

  I will wait for all time.”

  * * *

  “Very nice,” said Poppy. “I wonder what it means.”

  “Onwards,” said Banks.

  * * *

  Garland stood there for a moment.

  * * *

  “I have waited so long,” the song told them. “So long.”

  * * *

  “Onwards,” she agreed.

  * * *

  The next carriage was a buffet car.

  “These people really love their food,” Poppy said.

  “It’s good food,” said Banks.

  * * *

  The next carriage was perfectly normal, except someone had painted it white.

  “They even painted the carpet,” Banks said, tracing a finger over the stiff white fabric.

  “Onwards,” said Garland, again.

  “I hate to be the one to ask,” Poppy said, “but are we nearly there yet?”

  * * *

  The next carriage made them gasp.

  * * *

  “This is beautiful,” Banks said.

  “It is,” agreed Poppy. “I mean, the turtles were better, but this is pretty good.”

  “How long must it have taken?” Garland wondered.

  * * *

  They were looking at, of all things, a model railway. It was composed of several metres of miniature track, complete with trains, stations, forests and rivers. The trains and the station platforms were populated with tiny people and even animals.

  “What’s that?” asked Poppy.

  “It’s a dog,” said Banks. “Honestly, young people.”

  “You don’t remember dogs,” she said. “You’re not that old.”

  Banks changed the subject.

  “Is this the train we’re on, do you think?” he said, pointing down at a long, metallic-looking train with several carriages.

  “It would be weird if it wasn’t,” said Poppy.

  “A lot cleaner,” Garland said.

  “The whole thing’s a lot cleaner,” Banks said. “I mean, look at this landscape.”

  They looked at the landscape. It was an ocean of green rolling hills, verdant trees, sparkling blue lakes and even snowy mountains.

  “Wait a second,” Poppy said, bending over. “I know that mountain.”

  “Really?” said Garland.

  “Yes,” said Poppy. “It’s a lot bigger in real life –”

  She returned their stares.

  “I mean, in scale it’s a lot bigger,” she said, tersely. “In relation to this landscape.”

  “Just checking,” said Banks.

  “But it’s the same. Same shape, same slope.”

  “Look,” said Garland, picking up a tiny figure. It was a skier, complete with skis and poles. “It’s you.”

  Poppy shivered. “Don’t say that,” she said. “Put it back.”

  “Sorry,” said Garland.

  Banks crouched down and looked at the track. “Poppy’s right about the proportions,” he said. “This is the station we were at before, the first one, and it’s not to scale at all.”

  “Probably couldn’t fit it in the carriage otherwise,” said Garland. “Wait,” she added. “If this is a model of the train we’re on, and this landscape is the places we know, then this is –”

  She looked at the others.

  “This is a map,” she said.

  “Oh great, another map,” Poppy said.

  “I don’t think she shares your enthusiasm,” said Banks.

  Garland took out her paper map.

  “It doesn’t correlate,” she said, shaking her head. “The tracks don’t form a figure of eight.”

  “Maybe because this is meant to be old,” said Banks. “Like this landscape is from the past.”

  “Hence why it’s all green?” Poppy asked. “Like, when’s the last time you saw a tree?”

  “I’ve seen loads of –” Garland stopped. “I don’t know when I last saw a tree.”

  “Me neither,” said Poppy. “In a simulation, I guess.”

  “When I was at school, there were plenty of trees,” Banks said.

  “When was that?” Garland asked.

  Banks looked confused. “I don’t know,” he said.

  Poppy said, quietly, “How old are you, Banks?”

  “I don’t know that either,” Banks replied. “I remember the school, and Park and – I remember it all like it was yesterday. But it wasn’t, was it?”

  He looked at the model landscape, and then at the window. Yellow stars burst in the sky.

  “How long have I been on this train?” he asked.

  Garland said, “Maybe longer than you think.” She put her arm around him.

  “I feel like I’ve been here for ever, I know that,” said Poppy. She laid a hand on Banks’s shoulder, as gently as she could.

  * * *

  Garland made drawings of the train layout.

  “I wish I could just take a photograph,” she said.

  Poppy got down on her hands and knees and crawled about underneath the landscape.

  “There’s all wires here,” she said. “Hang on.”

  She emerged from beneath the table.

  “Lights,” she said, as the model train began to illuminate itself from within.

  “How is that happening?” Banks said. “It’s not plugged into anything.”

  The tiny village in the mountains lit up too, as did the floodlights on the platform.


  “It’s going to start playing Christmas songs in a minute,” said Poppy. She vanished under the table again and came back with a small brown box.

  “What’s that?” said Garland.

  “I know,” Banks said. “Controls. Can I have a go?”

  “Wait your turn,” Poppy said, teasingly. She pressed a switch and pulled a toggle. The train began to move, slowly at first, then picking up speed.

  “Careful,” Garland said.

  “Please let me,” Banks all but begged as the train accelerated.

  “It’s fine,” said Poppy. “I’m in control.”

  The train sped up, racing towards the forest. Then it jarred against the edge of the track, flew free of the rails, and fell from the table onto the floor where it smashed, broke in half and lay there, sparking.

  They looked at the broken wreck of the model train for a minute.

  “Onwards,” suggested Banks.

  * * *

  The next carriage was empty, and every surface was mirrored. They found it hard to keep their balance.

  “This is like being in zero gravity, except I’m still heavy,” said Banks.

  “Please don’t tell me I look like that,” Poppy said.

  Garland said, “OK then, I won’t.”

  * * *

  The carriage after that was locked.

  “Means we’re getting somewhere,” Garland said.

  “Not if we can’t get in,” Banks pointed out.

  “Oh, we can always get in,” said Poppy. She drew back her fist.

  “Wait a second,” Garland said. “We don’t have to smash the place up every time.”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Banks and Garland searched around for a key.

  “All right then,” said Poppy. “Stand back, everyone.”

  Garland and Banks were about to step away from the door when they heard a rattle and a click.

  The door opened.

  * * *

  A man was standing in the doorway. He was wearing a blue jacket with gold piping and had on a peaked cap to match. In one hand he held a silver whistle, and in the other some kind of mechanical device.

  He beamed at them over the top of his gold-rimmed glasses.

  “Tickets, please,” he said.

  * * *

  “Excuse me?” Garland said.

  The man beamed again. “Tickets, please,” he said.

  Poppy stepped forward.

  “Do we look like we’ve got tickets?” she asked.

  “Not for me to say,” the man replied. “Nor is it for me to judge by appearances. I’m just here to see your tickets.”

  “We haven’t got any tickets,” said Banks, and he sounded regretful.