With tired, heavy footsteps, we dash across the last bit of open land and into the train yard. But the moment we get a clear view of the station and tracks, my stomach sinks with disappointment. The whole place is destroyed. Explosions have melted the metal of the tracks and twisted them up at strange angles. The train cars that were on the tracks must have been blasted off, because they lie on their sides, scattered across the yard.

And of course, there is no coal.

They’ve all been looted.

I’m devastated by the sight I see before me. The Commander’s historic map was right, it led us on the right path to the right place, but we’re here years too late. The map has led us to a place that’s been completely obliterated. The only things still standing are the bridge across the road and the small metal station house.

Molly is the first to speak.

“Now what?”

It’s a good question and one I can’t answer. When we left Fort Noix, there was no plan B.

“We’ll need to find another vehicle,” I say.

“Way to state the obvious,” Molly says. “But we’ve been checking pretty much every car we’ve passed. There’s nothing.”

I really don’t appreciate her attitude right now.

“We can’t stand here,” Ben says.

He’s right. Darkness is crowding in on us, and that means danger is getting ever closer. Slaverunners, crazies, escaped animals, if they wanted to attack, now would be the time to do it, while we’re all standing here in the middle of an open train yard.

I look back at the ragtag bunch of followers. Bree and Charlie are clasping hands with each other. They look completely exhausted, with dark circles under their eyes and downturned mouths. Molly appears to be fuming, but getting angry and hostile has always been her reaction to negative experiences. Ben looks frantic. Even Zeke, the only actual adult here, looks like a tired, vulnerable infant. Ryan’s the only one who looks like he has any fight left in him at all.

I realize then that they’re all looking to me. They need me to tell them what to do, to make the decisions, to lead them.

“Let’s head for the train station,” I say, agreeing with Ben. “We can hide out there until we figure out what to do.”

We begin walking past the rail yard toward the small station house. Zeke leads the way, zigzagging through the fallen train cars, assuming the position of leader just like he used to when we had our meetings. But leading a discussion around a table and leading a mission are two completely different things. He’s not being cautious enough, just plowing ahead. Some instinct tells me to reach for my gun.