The forest had some of the largest trees Kino had ever seen – and she had seen many. The trunks were so thick, the stumps could be used as double beds. They were like the pillars of a shrine, but scattered, without any human sense of order.
Overhead was a canopy of green. The lowest branches and leaves were a good twenty yards above the ground and hid the sky. Since sunlight filtered wanly through this canopy, grass was unable to grow. The earth was black and moist and gave off a rich, intoxicating aroma that, to Kino, was pleasant but soporific.
"I don't really like driving in the woods. You know why?" Kino moved away from the trunk of the tree she'd been leaning against and came back to where she'd parked Hermes.
"Caterpillars?"
"No... well, yes, but there's something else... In a forest, it's very easy to lose your sense of direction. You might think you're headed west, but suddenly you realize you're actually going south. You can't see the sun."
"You have a compass, Kino."
She ignored him. "And the forest perfume – trees and earth – it's like incense in a shrine. You fall into a state of... prayer."
"Hello," said Hermes. "Places to go. People to meet."
Kino smiled and gestured up the road with her chin. "If we head due north, we'll be out of these giant trees, and we should find a real road soon after."
What they were traveling on now stretched the definition of the word road significantly. lt was a track of hard-packed earth, strewn with pine needles and dead leaves.
"Should we?"
Kino removed her compass from the breast pocket of her black leather jacket and checked it. "Yep. North. Let's go."
Out of long habit, she checked their rest stop to see if they had forgotten anything. Just in case, she also made sure the luggage and coat strapped to Hermes' rear carrier were secure. Then she pulled on her gloves and goggles, mounted Hermes, and off they went.
A few minutes later, they stopped so Kino could dismount and verify their orientation again on the compass.
A few minutes later, they repeated the process.
And again.
And again.
"I hate this," complained Kino, after about the fifth time. But she kept doing it.
After she'd checked their direction for what she was certain must have been the hundredth time, she realized the filtered light was growing brighter. Ahead, it peeked between the tree trunks in vertical bands of pale gold. They were reaching the edge of the forest.
They proceeded slowly now, the light growing brighter still, the bands of gold widening. By the time they'd cleared the last of the trees, Kino's eyes had adjusted to the light.
There was no road at the northern edge of the forest. There was nothing before them but a perfectly ordinary, dense, low, overgrown scrubland.
"No road. Did we go the wrong way?" asked Hermes.
"No... I think this is right. Look," said Kino, pointing at the ground.
There were two thin rust-colored strips peeking out from beneath the overgrown grass.
"Rails? Train tracks!"
"Exactly." Kino kicked at the ground around one of the tracks revealing a bit more of its corroded surface.
"The man who gave us these directions said, 'A motorcycle can make it. You'll reach a clear road soon enough.' He must have meant this. People must be using this as a path through the brush."
"Makes sense. As long as there aren't any trains."
"The rails are all rusted and covered in grass. There haven't been trains this way for a very long time."
Kino rolled Hermes between the rails, pointing him west. Grass lined the tracks evenly, forming a sort of green path through the scrubland.
"Well," said Hermes, "at least we won't have to stop every five minutes to read a compass."
They moved forward slowly so as not to run into the rails. When the sun was at its highest, they met a man.
Hermes noticed him first. They had traversed a long, gentle curve, when the motorbike said, "People alert."
Kino, who'd been spacing out, looked up to see the figure on the tracks ahead of them. She applied the brakes sharply, drawing a grunt of protest from her mechanical partner.
The man was crouched down, facing them, intent on something between the rails. He glanced up at them, his face displaying neither surprise nor unease. Behind him was a handcart fitted with train wheels and loaded with unrecognizable cargo.
Kino stopped just in front of the man, cut Hermes' engine, and dismounted. "Hello," she said, bowing.
The man stood. He was old and very short. His face was a collection of wrinkles that all but hid his gray eyes. His long hair was almost perfectly white, and his beard had clearly not been trimmed for decades. He wore a small, black pill-shaped hat. His shirt and pants – of the same black – were now worn to rags and patched here and there.
"Greetings, traveler," said the man amiably.
Kino was about to speak further, when her eyes moved beyond the wizened figure. "Wow!"
The old man looked over his shoulder, then turned back to Kino and Hermes. He smiled. "Yep, I did all that."
Behind the little old man, the rails had been cleared of grass. Between them, thick crossties had been laid at regular intervals in a bed of white pea-gravel. The rails themselves shone as if they'd just been delivered from the foundry. The sunlight turned them to gleaming silver as they stretched away into the distance.
"Sorry," said their new acquaintance, "but I can't take the cart off the tracks. Afraid you'll have to take the motorcycle 'round them, traveler."
"Huh? Oh, yeah. No problem," said Kino, flustered.
The old man crouched down again, and Kino approached him, bowing down to speak. "Excuse me, but there's something I'd like to ask you."
"Well, if I can be of any help..."
"Did you... pull the grass and polish the rails all by yourself?"
"Yep. That's my job," replied the man matter-of-factly.
"Your... job?"
"Yep. Been doing this awhile now," he said, pulling a fistful of grass from the ground.
Kino looked at the handcart, which was filled with the old man's possessions plus a variety of gardening tools. She glanced back at Hermes and asked the question on both their minds.
"How long exactly?"
"Hard to be exact, but I reckon fifty years."
"Fifty years?" cried Hermes.
"That ought to be about right. Only counted the winters, you see."
"You've been polishing the rails for fifty years," repeated Kino.
"Yep. Joined the railroad company when I was eighteen. They told me they had some tracks that weren't being used now but might well be used again in the future, and said I should go out and polish them up. Nobody ever told me to stop, so I'm still working."
"You've never been back home?"
"Nope. Had me a wife and child at the time, and I wanted to make sure they had enough to eat. Don't know what happened to 'em. Should be getting my wages, though. So they ought to be living comfortably. I expect I have grandchildren by now. Maybe even great-grandchildren."
The idea seemed to please him.
Kino and Hermes could only stand and stare.
"So, where are you headed, traveler?" asked the old man.