When The Train Stops

Chapter 1

The moment I step onto the platform, the train plummets through the gaping tunnel behind me. For a moment it feels like it might take me with it; the way it shakes the ground as I stand rooted to the spot, the way it spears me with blasts of cold air so powerful that I have to fight to stay upright. Part of me wants it to somehow pull me back in - take me home. I know it's impossible, but I'm ready to believe anything nowadays. Watching the train go is hard; watching it be swallowed up by the darkness, along with everything I know and love. It seems to take hours, though in reality the departure only lasts a few seconds. I'm left standing on the platform. Alone.
Fiercely wiping my eyes as the tears begin to spill, I take a chance to look at my surroundings. The platform is deserted and crumbling under my feet. It is hazily lit by grimy street lamps of various shapes and sizes. The wind whistles through noticeable gaps in the ceiling, and every so often a piece of debris will fall to the ground with the soft clanking sound of sheet metal. It's frightening, really.
Out of instinct, I immediately turn to the only human being in sight. Perched precariously on the edge of the platform furthest from me, I can see a figure in battered overalls. They're re-painting the fluorescent yellow safety lines, the only vibrant colour visible in the entire station. I sprint over, conscious that the sound of my feet hitting the concrete seems as loud as thunder in the overpowering silence. It's like running through a ghost town.
On closer inspection I can see the figure is a young man, his face lit by the eerie glow of a lantern. I fight a battle in my head; can I trust him? Yes, I decide eventually. And anyway - there's nothing else I can do.
"Uhh... Hello? Oh... Hi..." I freeze. I can't help it. I messed up what will probably be the only conversation I will have on this whole isolated station. I feel my cheeks turn scarlet and stare at the ground, suddenly taking apparent interest in the complex cracks decorating the platform.
The man looks up, surprised.
"Oh. Someone. Finally! Well, hello back. Got some sort of a problem? 'Cause I'm kind of busy here." He speaks seriously enough, but he's got a grin on his face that I can't help but like.
"Yes, I guess I've got a bit of a problem. I'm lost. I'm meant to be somewhere, and no one's here for me, and I hate it and... Sorry."
"No need to apologise. I'm guessing you're that Charlise girl?"
I'm struck. "How do you know my name?" I ask, the words barely coming out more than a hoarse whisper.
The man in the overalls, however, seems to be enjoying the conversation immensely. He looks even younger now he's turned to face me - maybe only seventeen or eighteen. He runs a fluorescent hand through his dark hair.
"I dunno. Lucky guess?" He laughs at his own joke.
"Anyway, can you help me or not?" I reply, desperate now.
He sighs and stands up so I can see the name label on his overalls. It says 'Wren'. "Okay then," he groans, his face deadly serious. "Follow me."