It was incredibly hard to walk down train tracks Charlie had discovered. You either walked on the rail, which meant trying to keep your balance on aforementioned metal rail, walked on the sleepers, which meant adjusting your stride length to that of the gap between the sleepers, or you walked on the ballast, which was huge lumps of granite and provided the risk of you twisting your ankle and not being able to walk.
Despite of this, he had made good progress throughout the night and as the dawn light approached and the world started to warm up, he was feeling OK. He still had no idea what he was doing and somewhere, deep in his heart, he knew he was doomed whatever he did.
He had started thinking about the ancient Romans for some reason. How the Christians must have felt as they were waiting to enter the arena and go to their death.
“At least they had their faith.” He said to himself.
In the distant control room, a note was made by the on duty officer to look up ancient Roman arenas, they sounded violent. The officer liked violence, by rights, probably more than he really should.