"Only in the darkness can you see the stars." ~ Martin Luther King

*****

Darkened gray smudges of wool threateningly surround the sky; like a predator would encircle its prey. A startling low rumble rings loud in the cool fall air, the sky roaring with satisfaction. Trickles of liquid hit the ground with as much force as a small child, everyone with their head down and moving at maximum speed. Those with umbrellas take wider berths of one another, the rest take care to duck when the spokes come their way. The sound of feet on wet paving stones is almost lost against the splashing of the traffic, only the click of high heels still clear. The usual smell of the fumes is dampened by the hazy drops; the faces that blur pass on the blank-stressed spectrum. At 7:30 am it's always the same.

The train is late and Brian is left shivering on the platform with ten minutes of numbing rain pattering against his head. The gentle clunk of a lipstick stained lid and an Earl Grey lands in the bin with the flick of a wrist besides him and he looks up at its owner. She looks like a Caroline. Long, soft curls that lie on her shoulders like a waterfall flowing mildly; flaming as bright as a sunrise. Under her side bangs, shines turquoise blue eyes, travelling uneasily from one person to another. Her smile is warm with a hint of shyness and her lips are like a frozen rose, dangerous but beautiful. Consciously, Brian picks at his own hair.

A rogue page of yesterday's newspaper is chased by the wind like a pigeon with wings in front of Brian as the raucous, metallic shriek signals the arrival of the decrepit carriages, standing in defiance of its condition, all corroded iron and tacky upholstery. The doors reluctantly eases open, as if gripped by age, the handles stiff with arthritis. Eager to get a seat, Brian rushes ahead, forgetting the ravishing looks of the young lady beside him. Settling into his self-entitled throne, he unravels a 470 calorie cream cheese and smoked salmon bagel, humble in its crumpled paper bag. Crumbs rain into the crevices of the grimy brown fabric as he attempts to swallow the taste of regret. Shaking his head, he puts it down.

Should have ordered that smoothie instead.

As the train now chugs ahead at full speed, one hand placed under his chin, he looks through the dirtied window at the catastrophe that was once the outer suburbs.

Outside, the streets are a skeleton, stripped of its flesh by the chaos that swarmed, only concrete structures themselves left, no glass, no wood, nothing the scavengers could use. The street lamps have been cut down and dragged away along with the trees, leaving dusty streets with only the wind for company; cracked sidewalks, empty gun shells and broken store fronts lying waste.

Every day Brian's train passes the suburbs that have been ruined by the collapse of The Network. Gone were the food stalls and the women and men in their smart clothes rushing away in their busy lives. Gone were the carefree children who played among the crowds, the ones who would have soon taken over the jobs of their parents. Gone were the tall skyscrapers and massive stores with their windows of fine items or delicacies. Today, the streets that once would have thronged with life, stand empty.

Brian's thoughts make him feel a little sick but he tries to push it away, busing himself with a newspaper before seeing the same devastating scenes on the front cover.

You have a happy life, good family and good job. Stop worrying about things that are out of your hands, Brian.

He wrings his hands nervously.

Out of your hands? You work with the government and it's out of your hands.

Sweat beads down his face.

Just shut up, Brian, shut up.

Adamant to forget, he wipes his face, pulls the curtains close and focuses on finishing his tasteless bagel.

*****

He glances at the clock for the hundredth time. It's not even two yet. The rest of the room is quiet except for the man at the front droning on about another plan to save the city and the occasional click of a pen. The man is fitter looking than one would have expected for a guy working at a keyboard 24/7. His face tells of a lean body beneath his wintry garb and his expression is serious but not unkind.

He's wasting his time, they won't agree to his plan even if he looks like a Greek god.

Tired, he taps the murky surface of the coffee lying on the table, breaking the thickening skin and watching the new gap grow. The frigid brown drink drips from his finger, the ripples spreading toward the rim in ever larger circles. Spoilt, yes he was, so used to the finest beans, always freshly brewed. Instead there was this instant muck. It seems to suited the place though, matching the beige walls and the melamine desks.

The only thing alive in this meeting is the ticking clock, the rest of us died some time ago.

At last, the man finishes the last slide of the presentation and with polite but firm decline to the man's preposition from Liz, the manager, Brian is free to go. Finally, finally.

"Brian, could you stay behind please?"

Drat.

Covering his obvious annoyance, he turns back to the table, not bothering to take a seat again as the others brushed past him.

"What's the status with Attempt No.26, Brian?"

What.

Oh right, she meant Amber Tamblyn.

"Amber is currently in hospital, Liz."

"It's No.26. Why the hell is she in hospital?"

His anger rises at Liz's inhuman treatment of the Attempters. She has a name.

"Yes Liz, well...Amber is in hospital because she fainted at the sight of all the crowds and cameras. She was in a serious condition, being only 15, it's no surprise."

"Brian." She seems to be irritated, as if she was talking to a misbehaving child. "Oh Brian. It's all a ploy. Can't you see the girl doesn't want to face her punishment and is cleverly trying to avoid it. Anyway, I presume she will be soon taken to-"

"Liz. " Brian's anger is now boiling like a demon inside, his fists clenched and teeth gritted together.

If she says anymore I will burst.

"What Brian? ...Personally, I think she shouldn't have been so adamant to try. "

Suddenly, Brian turns with ferocity, the words flying from his mouth with an intensity that drives Liz back. "Wow. Liz, you are a bitch. She is only 15. One Five. She is not fucking pretending. She was scared to death for God sake!"

Liz blanches, she'd been raised a good church girl and his words scared her half to death.

"Brian, don't say that. It's not right, not right at all. We are doing what we can. We can't help if she decided her 15 year old self should go sort out The Network hippy dippy, can we?" But Brian isn't listening, his face contorted with a rage she hadn't seen in her life.

"Liz! Can you not see that Amber is putting her life forward to help this city like all the other Attempters before her. She doesn't deserve the torture and pain she is getting, Liz. Not one bit. You know, what? I'm done. Done with pretending everything's okay. I can't keep closing the curtains on the problems around me. It's not okay. It's hell. "

"Brian, I think you need help, seriously. Look around you, the grass is green, our families are safe. Everyone you know is friendly, the trouble is in the suburbs." Liz reaches out a hand but Brian backs away.

"If I'm living in a so called Paradise while people's lives are being ruined a short train ride away, that's hell. I want good in our city, nothing less." Liz takes a step backwards.

"Brian, you're scaring me. This isn't you. You're a regular guy. I think you've been working too hard. Put your feet up, take a break. Go home for a while, spend some time with your family, yeah?"

Brian looks to the floor, a pink tinge flooding his cheeks at the realisation of his outburst.

"Maybe...maybe you're right...yeah Liz, I guess you're right. I need to unwind. It's just work you know, um, it wears me down you know." Liz smiles, and breaths out slowly.

"That's it Brian. Why don't we go for a coffee later, we can go together. You can't solve everyone's problems you know, it's too much for one person. Forgot about it, don't worry. "

And with that she walks out of the board room, high heels clicking in time to his increasingly fast heartbeat.

Forget?  Despite all she had said, he couldn't forget. He just could not.

*****

AN: Yay, Chapter 2 is up (i'm so soo sorry i know it's late but i went on holiday :0), with only more questions than answers! Sorry not sorry :)) Oh and DAMN BRIAN, THAT RANT. Lol.

The way this plot is going it's probably not gonna be a short story tho. Oops!

Anyway, tell me what you think, especially about the different POV (I had some problems with what person and what tense to write in) and remember to vote and comment if you like it! :))

Hanshi xx