They were on a hillside. The unfamiliar plants were mostly shoulder height and crowded together in places. Perhaps they could lie where the plants were densest and that would provide enough shade. The vegetation was definitely thicker and different from on the Lowlands. There were still succulents, but there were many other plants; some could even be called young trees. Perhaps they had fruit or nuts or leaves which they could eat.

Something straight ahead in the bush caught the pale light of the moon and Sorrel felt a pulse of dread. Ferals? She didn’t think so; the reflected shine had the stillness of metal. She pushed her way through the underbrush and saw what she assumed was an old cable car. “Bibi!” she yelled. “Over here!”

The car was slightly tilted against a large rock. She threw her weight against it to see if it was stable, and it held firm. The windows and doors were all closed. There was lettering on the side and she traced it with her fingers, but she couldn’t make out what it said. The door handle was stuck fast. She doubted if she had the strength to shatter one of the thick glass windows.

She walked around the side of the car closest to the slope of the hill and saw a makeshift ladder, leading onto the roof of the car. They were not the first to find this place and maybe there were already others inside.

“A cable car,” Bibi said from behind her.

“Yeah, but look. Someone’s used it, maybe is still using it.” Sorrel kicked at the side of the car.

“You’ll hurt yourself,” Bibi said. “Let’s listen.”

“Listen for what?”

Bibi put her palms on the car and pressed her ear to its side. “I don’t hear anything.”

Sorrel was sick of caution. She climbed the flimsy ladder, ignoring her mother’s pleas to be careful. There was a roof hatch and she tried to pry it open with her fingers. It was heavy, but she persevered and finally got it up. She lowered herself inside.

The inside of the cable car was dark. She felt around, barking her shins on metal – presumably the old seats. She ran her hands over them, and something flaked away – rust? Paint? Rust was a hopeful sign – it meant moisture. Perhaps even rain. She called to Bibi to set up the PlAK and charger and to bring one backpack at a time.

The interior of the car was revealed by the dawn: forward-facing seats, only the metal left, dusty floor with human footprints, blackened glass windows. A door at the rear. The door was locked from the inside with a latch. If they could open it, that would let out some of the hot air when the car heated up. The only place to lie was on the floor between the seats.