Five Years Later…..

London 1941

The train station was packed with families having to say goodbye. On the pillars, there were posters for those wanting to enlist and through the speakers came out calm female voices instructing on when the trains were to depart. Throughout the air, there was great sadness and love for the children who had to leave. As much as it pained their parents to part with them, they took solace in the fact that they would be far away from the bombs dropped by the German planes that flew above London like angels of death. There was only one boy who was somewhat out of place.

Christopher looked out the window in his compartment, safe from the chaos outside anticipating his departure from this hellhole. He saw the tiny hands pouring out of the cab, waving and touching the hands of their parents. He was so glad he did not have to say goodbye to his uncle who would never put him on a train like this.

Unfortunately for him, his excitement did not last. After furious footsteps entered his ears and alcohol penetrated his nose, there was his uncle, standing in the doorway with murderous eyes. Before Christopher could even say anything. he was yanked by his wrist with his suitcase in his other hand and dragged down the hallway.

The American station lady who gave Christopher his ticket was very apologetic. "He told me you were unable to come and bring him and gave me your money."

"And you believed him," replied his exasperated uncle snatching the money away from her.

"I'm sorry, I…." she said with her sweet voice.

"Forget it. Just...thank you…..Stacy," he said after reading her name tag. He stormed away with Christopher in toll as the train began its journey out of the station.

He drove Christopher through the debris and wreckage that was London in his Ford Anglia, and when they were outside their home, He slammed the lad's car door open and dragged him into the house and into his room, where he was to stay with no supper, at least until the bombing tonight.

That night, Christopher lay in bed with his stomach eating itself. After finding trying to go to sleep to be completely fruitless, he reached under his bed to pull out a model train, one that reminded him of the ones his father drove and taught him about.

Before the war, his father taught him what seemed like everything there seemed to know about the workings of engines. How to start them, what speed they had to be to pull heavy loads, and what each model's strengths and weaknesses were. Christopher helped his father out by devouring any book on the subject that he came across, often unable to put it down until he finished every long chapter. He remembered the words of his father, "You're going to change the world, Christopher."

But he never lived to watch him do so. He was drafted for the war and was killed in action and so Christopher was forced to live with his horrible uncle because his mother died in childbirth.

It was at this moment of reflection when Christopher heard the sirens.

"Christopher! Shelter! Now!" his uncle said after bursting through the door.

Christopher got up and trudged downstairs as his father was carrying a small crate of whisky out of the backdoor.

Inside the shelter, Christopher sat on the cot, toying with a miniature train as his uncle was taking his usual swigs of whisky. Outside, the sounds of bomb blasts and airplanes echoed throughout the streets of London.

"Christopher," his uncle, sitting on a nearby chair, said pointing up. "You hear that? This is why you can't abandon your country like that. In times of war everybody has to play a part and yours is fighting for Britain when you're old enough. You think I've been training you this past week for fun?"

"….but, maybe I'm not meant to be a soldier," responded the boy. "Maybe I can be an engineer instead."

A long silence followed and his uncle got up took the train right out of Christopher's hands, opened the door to the shelter, and tossed the train outside.

"NO!" yelled Christopher before he was pushed down.

"Driving trains is for old men who have passed their prime! Not boys who have their lives ahead of them! Being a soldier is in your blood and tomorrow we will continue training in the field! Understood?" bellowed his drunk uncle after slamming the door.

"…..Yes sir," said Christopher fighting back tears as much as he could on the ground.

Author's Note:

I swear to God it's not going to be this bleak throughout the story. This is just meant to establish one of the story's key themes, being useful, as well as our avatar in the story. And yes, I put in a reference to Shining Time Station in this chapter. Just a little fan-service.