The train shrieked along the tracks like a runaway ghost. It flew through a misty mesh of signals and stopped for none of them. It shuttled through points and dissolved through anything it met. Twin lights cut a path through an iron landscape. Stations blurred past. Nothing could stop it. Inside, the team wrestled with connecting doors but they were all locked. They sat down and thought hard. "What about the alarm chain," suggested Lapinette. The Wabbit jumped at the chain and pulled it. It came away in his paw and clattered on the floor. Wabsworth tackled a window and with a touch of hydraulic pressure it moved. "Along the roof?" said the Wabbit. Everyone nodded. He shrugged, then Skratch lifted him up. With a hop, the Wabbit pulled himself through the window. Wind tore at his fur. He searched for a grip, found it, and vaulted onto the top of the carriage. Pylons flashed by. He gritted all of his 28 teeth and held on as a train pounded past on the opposite track. He ducked as the train flew under a bridge. The mist tasted like old broccoli and it battered his lungs. He gasped. But bit by bit he pulled himself towards the motor coach. The roof was damp and slippery and several times he slithered to the edge. But the driver's cab was in sight. Clinging like grim death, he threw a leg over the side and kicked until he heard glass smash. Then he dropped and vaulted inside ...
