Just as was the case on the seaward side, the mountains here were perilously steep, forming almost a sheer drop. The dock rose at the end of a long string of lower hilltops connected by suspension bridges. There, a tall tower with massive iron wheels held wires that led down into the fug. Their berth was as near as possible to the cable tower, just a short walk away from the small building at its base. The crew gathered at the railing beside an embossed sign that had formerly labeled the tram with what looked to be a long and official name. At some point in the past someone had helpfully slathered it with paint reading Fugtown Express. Captain Mack clicked open his stop watch. “So long as the tram is on time, we’ll make it. Coop, the sack.” Coop held out a small canvas bag. “Samples of our wares, and an up-to-date manifest of all available goods.” “We used some on repairs, don’t forget.” “Taken into account, Cap’n.” He nodded. “Ms. Graus, are you certain you still want to come along?
