I did eventually get to the train station, on that day three and a half years ago. I managed to catch my train and get back in time to make an impassioned plea to the town before being torn apart. I was the game-ending lynch.
Back in the present, I get past the blockade and proceed west. And when I cross the river, in the clear frigid night air, I realize two things. First, I am not quite as far south as I was three and a half years ago. Not quite that far gone. Second, since I've come through this area before, I recognize the way to go.
Within a few minutes I am safely inside the train station, my suitcase making a loud scraping noise as I drag it across the tiled floor. I look down and discover that one of the suitcase's wheels fell off during my walk to the station. I suppose those two journeys, plus all the ones in between, were too much for it. Incident resolution takes its toll.
Not that it matters. It is my job to find a way out of our predicament, a solution, the truth.
I keep walking.
--
another place and time, without a great divide, and we could be flying deadly high