Charlie had left everything in the station house, his dead phone, his wallet, his keys, everything. He had only realised this on the second night of walking and this was a problem. Because, by the end of the second night, Charlie was cold, hungry and in the depths of a paranoid psychotic episode.
He had felt it coming for a while before it finally arrived and absorbed him. He welcomed its warm embrace in the end, the final loss of a clear logical idea of what he was going to do, replaced by a manic stream of thoughts and visions. None of which made any sense, especially to Charlie. His brain had triggered the episode, in response to the utter despair that Charlie was now experiencing. A protection mechanism, for whilst the higher brain descended into anarchy, the base brain triggered survival instincts that would stop the higher brain doing something silly, like jumping in front of a train.
At that point a train went past, narrowly missing Charlie as he lay gibbering on the stones. The driver had literally shit himself as he went by and called the incident into the line controller who in turn called the police.