Phone Booth, London
M other Bird shook hard inside her booth. She lost her grip on the handset and was about to crash against the glass. Holding on, she peeked outside and could not believe her eyes. She had to look up. Way up. The things that cracked the earth open and branched out could not be. This couldn’t be happening.
But then this was written on the paper the Dormouse gave her. This was the nonsensical event she’d laughed at earlier. She gazed at her feet and saw small plants cracking out of the floor and rising. Not plants. Mushrooms.
She took a deep breath and reached for the handset again.
“This shit is real,” she muttered. “I have to make that phone call now.”
But she was too late. A mushroom, a big one, cracked out of the earth and blew out the phone booth. It punched her in the face, and she flew midair only to fall on her back somewhere else.
The phone call that could save the world wasn’t going to be made.