Charlie woke up with a start, just as the cop that the train driver had called clipped the handcuffs on to his wrist. He had been dreaming, Charlie wasn’t sure whether this was a good sign or not. A potential semaphore message from the future that he was going to descend into the pits of a psychological breakdown and find himself in the custody of an organisation, whose track record of care of inmates, was so low, that no one ever questioned it, in case they then ended up in custody and receiving the same treatment.
He stood and began to unfold the stiffness from his back. It was daylight outside the lineside hut he had found to sleep in. He had finished the last of the supplies that had been packed in the bag and he was hungry and thirsty. He licked his dried lips and stuck his head out of the doorway, there was nothing in either direction, so he turned right and resumed walking.
“There’ll be a town soon.” he said to himself, looking around trying to see the sun through the clouds to give him some idea of time of day, but it was no use.