He just wanted to lie there, lie there and just… rest. Just for a moment. He had made it. He had gotten out. The train was moving and he was getting out. He had won. He deserved that much at least, right? No rest for the wicked, however, as he knew his troubles had only started. He was in the caboose, which housed train workers and their tools during long journeys. After they crossed the bridge, he had no idea how long it would be before they reached the train yard. The potential for one stray train worker, or God forbid, a guard he hadn't accounted for, coming to the caboose and finding him there was unacceptable.