Chapter 2

As the early-morning sunlight lit up the inside of the engine shed, Thomas shook his head to clear away any lingering memories of his ordeal, and thought, That was the most horrible dream I've ever had. He raised his hands up to his face and started to rub his eyes with the backs of his fingers to help him wake up and face the new day. Suddenly, he froze, shocked with the realisation of just what he was actually doing, then he lowered his hands and stared at them, thinking that once his eyes got used to the low light level that he'd see that he'd been mistaken, and then wiggled his... fingers? Yes, that was what they're called, he thought, no, not thought, he knew what they were called, and what he was seeing was really there! Black? Then he realised that he was wearing gloves. I've got fingers? Hands? Arms? He knew somehow that he could fold his...his elbows, and he could even wave his, yes, he could wave his arms about in front of him. What's going on? Where are my buffers? This is all wrong, I'm a steam engine! It's people like Sir Topham Hatt and real people that have arms, not an engine like me. Engines have buffers. Am I still asleep and this is some kind of dream that I can't wake up from? He tried to wake himself up by forcing his eyes to open and see his buffers instead of these hands, but to his surprise and horror, they already were. It was for real!

He waved his arms again and an image of saplings being blown about in a gale popped into his mind and, as shocked as he was with all the new sensation he was feeling, he started chuckling, but his amusement died away quickly as flashes of light started to replace the scene he was picturing in his mind, then the flashes appeared all around him and even behind himself where he couldn't see, yet he could still picture them. This scared him, for how could he see flashes of light behind himself when he didn't have eyes in the back of his head? The thought that he would look very silly indeed if he did have eyes in the back of his head entered his mind, bit then the flashes increased in number until they were swirling all around him, surrounding him with a very bright wall of whiteness that twisted and spun ever so fast that it was making him feel quite dizzy and nauseous, and he started to panic. He started to worry about what was going to happen to him next, and gasped as he suddenly felt himself being pulled forward, then backwards, knowing at the same time that he was still sitting stationary on the oily ground between the tracks. It felt as though he was being stretched and pulled out of his body in all directions at the same time, and just as he was about to pass out, everything suddenly stopped moving and the world seemed to explode. He shook his head from side to side as strange new ideas and thoughts, ideas and thoughts so totally unlike more meaningful than anything he was used to entered his mind, then he heard a voice calling his name over and over again...

James, too, had been having a bad night. Instead of his usual dream in which he was pulling the express coaches out of the station because Sir Topham had decided that, as his red paint was so shiny and clean, he should pull the express instead of Gordon and that all the people left behind in the station would wave and cheer at him because he looked so smart and shiny, his dream was a nightmare. Instead of steaming out from under a bridge and whistling at anyone watching from above, he found himself running down one of the roads beside the track on which he'd sometimes race against Thomas all the way to the wharf, and he was panicking because he couldn't find a way to get back onto the track. What made it even worse for him was that he no longer had any red paint covering him and everyone that he passed as he ran down the road was laughing and jeering, shouting at him that they could see his bare boiler and undercarriage, and he had to get away from them quickly because he was blushing with embarrassment so much that he no longer needed any red paint to cover him! Then, finally, seeing a gap in the bushes beside the road he was on, a gap that would allow him to get back onto the track, James ran towards it, and just as he entered the gap, suddenly, everything went white and he felt himself being lifted up high into the air like a hot-air balloon before being spun around like a windmill in a hurricane. This went on for what seemed like forever before he then fell to the ground with such a bump that he woke up and screamed out loud. He sat upright, gasping for air to fill his lungs for yet another loud scream. Lungs? I don't have lungs! What's wrong with me?

Percy was huddled into a little ball, crying. Whilst he was sleeping, the most frightening thing had happened to him. He'd dreamt that Diesel 10 had used his mechanical arm to drop him into a hole that had suddenly opened up in the ground, and he'd fallen and fallen for so long that he thought he'd never stop falling, and he'd been frightened of what would happen to him when he did stop falling and hit the bottom. He'd was fearing that he'd be smashed to bits beyond all chance of repair and he'd never be a useful engine ever again and Sir Topham would send all his broken bits to the scrapyard and then the big green bully would drop bits of his broken body into a big pot of molten metal where they'd be melted down and he'd never be able to puff around the Island of Sodor again! Eventually, after falling for what had seemed like hours and hours, he'd splashed into a sea of white that spun him round and round like a giant whirlpool before throwing him back to the land, and now he was awake, awake and bruised after bumping his forehead on the wooden sleeper below him. He uncurled, turned onto his back and brought his hands to his face to wipe away his tears, and as his fingers made contact with his eyelids, he suddenly stopped crying, shocked with this new sensation, and asked himself, What am I doing? I've never been able to do this before!

Henry opened his eyes and wished he hadn't. His head had been spinning round and round so much he thought it was going to spin off and roll along the track and then he'd have to chase after it and all the Troublesome Trucks would giggle and laugh at him. His worries were ended, however, when a sudden jolt had woken him up, and now he felt as though the world was ending. It wasn't his head spinning round and round, it was the things inside his head that were spinning round that was making him feel dizzy. Pictures in his mind that had such depth of quality and detail to them that he felt as though he could touch them. Words that sounded so strange but at the same time quite meaningful in their unexpected familiarity, and ideas that lit up his mind like fireworks exploding in the night-time sky, thoughts that led him down so many different paths that he thought he'd get lost and never find his way back again. Thoughts that whirled around inside his mind continually and he couldn't stop any of them, and he was so confused by it all. And I ache rather badly as well, he thought. "Ooh," he quietly moaned, and rubbed his forehead with his hand, not yet realising the enormity of what he was actually doing.

Gordon had just gone through what he considered to be the worst thing he'd ever experienced in his life, and as he sat on his rear inside the engine shed, his elbows on his knees and his head resting in his hands, he wondered how the other engines had managed to leave the shed without him hearing them. Then a loud scream made him look up in alarm. He quickly looked to his left and saw a man dressed in a long red coat sitting where James had been the previous night, looking down at himself in panic. He wondered who the man was and where James had gone to, and then noticed that there were more odd-looking men sitting or lying on the tracks where the other engines had been the previous night. Every one of them was moaning or groaning about something that ailed them. What was weird about it all was that the men were dressed in long leather coats that matched the colours of the engines that had previously been resting there. One red, two green, and one blue, he counted. He looked down at himself and gasped as he realised for the first time since waking that he, too, was dressed in a long coat that was the same blue colour as his painted bodywork. He saw that his coat had red buttons and trimming on its edges and cuffs, and that was when he noticed his hands, hands as black as coal. He wiggled his fingers and realised that they were black because he was wearing skin-tight gloves. He started to take the glove off his left hand but found that he couldn't, nor, when he tried, could he unbutton his long coat; the buttons were stuck fast! He slowly shook his head from side to side, not at all liking what he was seeing and thought that it was some horrible trick being played on him by one of the tank engines. Maybe they put something in my water tank when I was asleep last night, he thought, and making me have a dream that seems so real. There's no telling what oil in my water will do to me!

With the extra light from the rising sun starting to reveal more detail to his surroundings, he just sat there, taking note of what each of the men were doing. The red-coated man that had just screamed was now panting and gasping for air whilst the smaller of the two green-coated men, in fact, the quite podgy, green-dressed man, he mused, was quietly sobbing where Percy had previously been sleeping. The larger of the green-coated men, sitting where Henry had been, was quietly moaning to himself, and the blue-coated man occupying Thomas' sleeping area, after waving his arms about for several moments, was now staring into space as though he was in a trance. Not for a long time had Gordon felt so unsure of himself.

Thomas sat as still as he could, listening to his name being called. It was a familiar female, though he couldn't quite place it right then as it was taking him forever to gather his wits about him. Finally, he recognised it's soothing gentleness, though it did sound somewhat strained and weak, and he realised that it was Lady calling him. Thomas frowned, as far as he knew, she wasn't due to come to the Island of Sodor any time in the near future. He heard her call to him again and he looked around trying to see where she was before remembering that it was inside his head that he was hearing her.

What is it, Lady?Where are you? he called. Do you know what's happened to me? He didn't appear to hear the other engines moaning, or notice that Gordon had turned his head to look oddly at him.

Thomas, at last! Lady replied. Something…something really terrible has happened to me. I'm in Muffle Mountain and I can't move, and...and my firebox is giving out the most f-f-foulest black smoke I've ever seen. I need your help, Thomas.

Lady, I'm-, started Thomas, but he paused and looked down at his new body as he sat on the track, then across at where the other engines were supposed to be and, for a very brief moment that weighed heavier than the heaviest wagons he'd ever pulled, the realisation that what had happened to him had happened to the other engines in the shed as well.

All of us, he said to her, Gordon, Henry, James and Percy, we...we're not engines anymore! What's happened to us?

Oh, Thomas! My dear, dear, Thomas. My...my magic has almost all gone and I need you and your friends to help me before it becomes too late and you all return to wha-, before it's too late to set things right again. There…there's something very wrong with my magic. Something's affecting me and...and I don't know what it is. My fire's gone out but...but my stack is still smoking and...and I don't know what's going to happen to me. I need your help, Thomas, before...before it's too late!

Thomas slowly stood up and again looked around the engine shed, slightly startled to see the red-coated man standing in front of him. Sighing heavily, he replied, Lady...if your magic is as weak as you say it is, it...it's already too late!

James, finally getting his breath back, looked over to where Gordon was supposed to be and spluttered, "I-I've just had the most horrible nightmare. I dreamt I didn't have my shiny red paint anymore and everyone was laughing at me. It was terrible. I'm glad I'm awake now, tho-" and stared at the man sitting where his friend Gordon was supposed to be.

Gordon didn't like the way this was going at all. After staring at the trance-like man sitting where Thomas had gone to sleep last night, and studying his round, chubby-cheeked face, he'd come to the horrible realisation of what was wrong, and that the man sitting there was in fact the small tank engine, Thomas. Well, something's wrong all right; me and the other engines look like humans, that's what's wrong.

He heard the red-coated man start complaining about a dream he'd just had and, looking over at him, he dourly replied, "Are you sure you're glad to be awake, James? Look again! It's not shiny red paint I can see on you."

James sprang to his feet, gasping in surprise at the physical feat he'd just performed and looked down at his body. "Oh, no," he cried out. "What's happened to me. I look like a human! Where's my shiny red paint gone?"

He grabbed at the red leather overcoat he was wearing and groaned, "Urgh! What's this? It feels horrible! What's wrong with me? Where's my boiler gone?"

James then looked down at the droll-sounding man that was sitting on the track and saw a middle-aged man with a round, chubby, ashen-looking face, a pointy nose and glossy black hair frowning up at him. The man was wearing a leather overcoat similar to his own, but it was shiny blue instead of the shiny red that his coat was. Then he noticed that the man's overcoat had shiny red buttons and red edging along the edges and the cuffs of his sleeves, similar to the gold edging, cuffs and buttons that he had.

The amusing thought that it was almost a parody of how he normally looked silenced his complaining, especially when he noticed a gold-coloured number four embroidered on a top pocket of the man's coat. James didn't know what to make of what was happening to him. His mouth dropped open with he realised that he could not only instantly think about things such as how overcoats were manufactured but also many more concepts a lot more complicated than that. He'd never ever imagined that he could think of these things in such abstract terms, and that thought surprised him even more. He looked around the engine shed and saw three other people where his friends were supposed to be, and he asked the seated man, "Who are you? Where have Gordon the engine and my other friends gone to?"

Looking over to the other people, he called out, "Who are all you?"

Gordon "hrrmphed" to clear his throat, and pointing to the other blue-coated man, said, "Look at Thomas over by there. I'm getting a bit worried about him."

James looked to where Thomas was supposed to be and saw another blue-coated, black-haired and slightly plump, middle-aged man sitting motionless on the track He walked over, looked at the front of his cost and saw that he, too, had a number embroidered on his pocket. "Huh?" grunted an open-mouthed James.

He then looked again at the two other men sitting or laying between the rails. They, too, were dressed in a similar fashion to himself and the man that shared the same number as his friend, Gordon, but they had shiny green coats with red edging, buttons and cuffs instead. Before he could say anything, the man sitting down by his feet got up and looked around, and James studied him closely. He was shorter than James, with a chubby, round-ish face and short, glossy black hair. He had the number one embroidered on his coat pocket, and right now, he looked very worried about something. James, his mouth still hanging open, watched as this 'Thomas' fellow continued to stare into space.

Lady, has what's happened to me and the other engines happened all over the island? If it has, I can't see how we can help you. What about Burnett? Can he help you? I don't know if any of the trucks and coaches have been affected by what's happened, but if they have been, well, I just don't kn-

Thomas...there…there is only one way to save me and I know that you'll find it. You've always been a really useful engine. You're a friend...a friend I can truly rely on, and I know that I ca…can rely on you this time as well.

Is Burnett Stone there with you? Why can't he help you?

Burnett managed to get me back to Muffle Mountain but then, when I got worse, I told him to go. I gave him a really, really important task to do and...and I'm all alone now. Thomas, I'm frightened. I...I hav…mu…ime…left! Help me, Thomassss…Pleeeeeaaaasssase...~

"Lady! Lady!" Thomas suddenly shouted in James' face, causing the red-coated man to step back in surprise. "Can you hear me, Lady?"

Thomas' breath hitched as he thought that Lady must have finally succumbed to whatever it was that was ailing her. Then, looking around at the other eng-, men in the engine shed with him, he blurted out, "Guys!Ladysintroub-"

"Stop right there, Thomas," Gordon cut in. "Take some slow, deep breaths to compose yourself before you make yourself ill."

Thomas ran over to Gordon. "Bu-but…butyoudontrea-"

"Thomas," soothed Gordon, as he stood up and grabbed the short blue-coated man by his shoulders. He gently pushed him down to sit on one of the iron rails. "Sit there, take it easy, and when you've calmed down, then you can explain to us what's happened. Okay?"

"Bu-, okay," said Thomas grudgingly, seeing the stern look that Gordon was giving him.

Desperate as he was to tell his friends of Lady's plight, he knew that Gordon was right. It had happened before when he'd gotten too excited to explain himself properly and the other engines had laughed themselves silly as he'd tried to speak with no sound coming from him except for a couple of weak peep-peeps coming from his whistle. This time, though, he knew it was important that he explained everything clearly for they just didn't know how much time they had left before…before something else happened. Just what else was likely to happen, he didn't know, but Gordon was wise, maybe he'd know what they could do to help save Lady.

"Ladysillweve-," he gasped out. "WevegottohelpLadyshesaidtha-"

"Calm down, Thomas," Gordon said. This time, with a hint of anger in his voice. "Start at the very beginning, okay?"

"R-r-right, okay." Thomas took a slow, deep breath, and said, "I was having a bad dream and when I woke up, I...I wasn't an engine anymore. I had arms and hands and fingers and then bright lights surrounded me and then Lady was calling me. She said that she's very ill and that her boiler's giving out some sort of foul black smoke even though her fire's out and she can't move and Burnett Stone has gone somewhere with an important task. We've got to save her before it's too late!" The effort of saying all that meant that Thomas started gasping for breathe again.

"And what happens when it's too late?" asked James, worriedly. By now, he'd come to accept that he was in fact a human with a shiny red coat instead of shiny red paint. He tried to recall exactly when he'd stopped questioning what had happened to him but Thomas' tale of Lady's woe had swept his own worries to one side.

"I-I just don't know," said Thomas, sadly. "Lady went all quiet and I think she'd gotten worse and, and then...then she didn't answer me."

"I see," said Gordon. "I think we need to go and see Sir Topham Hatt and explain to him what's happened. He'll know what to do."

"Henry," commanded Gordon, determined to take control of the situation before the other eng-, er, former engines, started to panic. "You've heard what's happening so get up off the track and help young Percy over by there. He's obviously upset and he needs us bigger eng-, yes, us bigger engines to help him get used to this...this thing that's happened to us. We know we're become like people now, but we're still who we were even though we're not who we are now. Um, well, you know what I mean. Come along, it's going to take us a while to get to Knapford Station with human legs instead of wheels."

"Oh, yes," he added as an afterthought, offering his right hand towards the red-coated man standing by Thomas, "Good Morning to you, James!"

ooo

Behind the steam engines' shed, a group of young teenagers dressed in grey tracksuits stood giggling amongst themselves as they each suggested various pranks they could play now that they were no longer limited to being pulled by the engines and being roughly bumped by the shunting locos and that big red monstrosity, James. One of the giggling children pointed to the coal piles and they ran off towards them. There was so much fun they could have playing with coal. One young boy stayed behind, however, for he didn't feel like laughing or playing any pranks at all, as he had a much more serious matter than pranks to be concerned about. He'd always felt out of place amongst the Troublesome Trucks, and now something had happened to make him become even more aware of his misery. He knew full well that the others had always called him the Unhappy Truck and now, now it hurt him in ways that he couldn't even begin to understand. He lowered his head and started to cry. Stumbling as he made his way across the tracks, he headed toward the woods beside the marshalling yards to find somewhere to be alone with his heavy sorrow.

ooo

As the five friends walked to Knapford Station, James walked between Thomas and Henry, playing with the buttons on his coat and recalling the time when he'd met Lady after they'd discovered the magical buffers that connected Sodor with Shining Time Station. It was really horrible what Diesel 10 had been trying to do to Mr. Conductor and the magical engine, and he was glad that Thomas had helped on that occasion to save the day. He hoped that Thomas, no, not just Thomas this time, but all of them, that they could all help in some way to discover what it was that had caused Lady to become unwell and for her magic to fail. Secretly, though, he hoped it wouldn't take too long as he didn't really want to wait any longer than necessary before he could have his shiny red paint back again.

Henry was trying to ignore Gordon as he went on and on about how it was right that it was the duty of the bigger engines to help in this matter, and that Thomas, no matter how brave or helpful he felt he was, was only a small engine, er, human now, and he would have to leave it to the bigger eng-, the bigger of his friends to sort it all out. This is so confusing, thought Henry. Am I an engine dreaming that I'm a human, or am I a human that dreamt he was an engine? He glanced over at the trees that grew alongside the tracks between the marshalling yards and Knapford Station and wondered what it would be like just to wander amongst them and forget about all his confusing thoughts. He really liked trees, they weren't confusing at all.

Gordon, on the other hand, was well into his stride now. Whereas everyone would have appealed to the wiser blue engine, Edward, for advice, the fact that Edward was on an extended journey to Manchester returning some coaches meant that it was an opportunity for he, Gordon, a big and strong eng-, er, human, to save the day. Thomas and the other smaller engines, even after they'd somehow become transformed into humans, were still small and weak when compared to Henry, James and himself, well maybe not so much James, when he thought about it, nor Edward. For too many times now the other engines had been accusing him of being full of bluster and bravado, and by showing that he had the strength and wisdom to solve this problem, well, it would show them all that he was a hum-, no, engine, that meant what he said. The only problem he had, thought Gordon, as they got nearer the station platform, was that he had to remember that he was a human now, not an engine, and that he wasn't as big and strong as what he used to be.

A slight tickle in his throat reminded him of the coughing fit he'd had during the night. It had woken him up once and he wasn't able to see anything at the time because his eyes had been so itchy and raw. He also recalled that there was the most horrible smell in the air, rather similar to rotting logs of wood. No, he decided, getting back to the here and now, things are so different now I'm reduced in size and strength. He wondered if he could come out of this whole affair without making a big fool of himself in front of the smaller engines.

As Thomas and Percy walked together behind their taller friends, Thomas repeated to the chubby little man what Lady had said about her magic failing. Percy, though, was feeling quite miserable with the way things were now, and he didn't think that he could do much to help Thomas to save the magical engine. It was only when Thomas told him that Sir Topham would know what to do and how they could all play their part to get things right again that he felt a bit more cheerful. Percy decided, as long as Thomas was there to give him encouragement, he'd be able to deal with this new world he'd been shocked to find himself in.

As the level of their separate conversations died down to a silence that was only broken by the clump-clump of their heavy tread on the wooden sleepers, Thomas was puzzling about something. When Lady had spoken to him, he somehow sensed that something wasn't quite right. There was something about what she said, or nearly said, that worried him. Yes, there was definitely something about the way she was speaking, something apart from whatever it was that was affecting her, he decided. It was as though she was trying to hide something from him, and he felt quite confused by it all. He had great affection for the little magical engine, and he trusted her, loved her even, but there was something in the back of his mind that he just couldn't quite put his finger on. He looked down to his hands and wiggled his fingers, thinking how strange they, together with his new way of thinking, seemed to amuse him. So strange, so funny, and yet, so apt.

ooo

The crying teenager, after wandering about inside the woods for several minutes, found a relatively comfortable-looking tree stump that he could sit on. After another minute, during which the worst moment of his existence had replayed itself over and over again in his mind, a heaviness so totally unlike anything he'd ever experienced filled his heart and he broke down into loud anguished sobs. The weight of his despair was so great, so heavy, heavier than the heaviest load that he'd ever carried, that no matter how much he tried not to think of what he'd done on that terrible day, the same memory kept returning with more clarity each time the images flashed through his mind, and he sat there, sobbing until he fell off the tree stump, curling up into a ball on the ground, and wished that sleep would come and take the horrible memories away. Eventually, he did indeed, fall asleep.

ooo

At Knapford Station, Sir Topham Hatt walked quickly along the platform towards the traffic office, weaving and dodging around the mass of passengers waiting for their early-morning train, pausing only to glance up at the clock hanging from an overhead girder. Ah, well, there's a first time for anything, he thought. Thomas'll be here in five minutes, I'd better get ready to meet him. Sir Topham had slept late. He could only put it down to the migraine headache he'd suffered last night after going to bed. Must have been too much red wine, he thought. His wife, Lady Hatt, had also complained of a headache and had suggested to him that maybe she was coming down with the flu'. His bout of coughing after she'd kissed him goodnight had further convinced him that not only was he suffering a mild hangover, but there was definitely a bug going round as well.

He arrived at the traffic office door and, unsuccessful in his attempt to open it, realised that it was still locked. That's strange, he thought. Debra's normally in by now. She must have slept late as well. He pulled out his keys from his coat pocket and, as he started to unlock the door, a sudden loud scream from behind him stilled the early morning chatter of the waiting passengers and he froze in surprise. A second scream then followed like an echo and he quickly turned round to see what was wrong.

Looking quickly from left and right, he couldn't see anything noticable, but the screaming then continued. It sounded as though it was coming from down on the tracks and he quickly walked over to the edge, hearing the crowd of passengers behind him murmuring to each other and asking what was happening. Ignoring them, he looked down. The sight of two elderly, spinster-type women kneeling on the track, hugging each other just below the platform edge where Thomas' coaches had been the previous night, caused him to gasp out loud. It was they that were screaming, and every time one of them stopped, the other would start up again.

"Get up off the track, you silly women," he shouted loudly in order for them to hear him. "There are engines due through here any minute now. Get off the tracks before you're both killed. Quick, get up and catch hold of my hand."

He got down on his knees and reached over the edge of the platform to help them climb up, glancing several times in the direction of the engine shed for any sign of the engines approaching, not noticing right then how physically alike and dressed the two elderly women were.

"Sir Topham," one of them cried. "You've got to help us. Please, what's wrongs with us?"

After helping the second old woman up onto the platform, Sir Topham looked to the two women and said, "What's wrong with you is that you were both only minutes from being killed. What in blazes were you doing down there, and who are you both?"

He looked from one to the other and it was then that he noticed the similar way they were dressed. They were not only dressed alike in long, light-brown dresses and matching cardigans, but they both wore black, short heeled shoes that he could only describe as sensible, well, certainly more sensible than any reason for them to be kneeling on the tracks of a busy railway station. Not only were their clothes matching, he noticed, but they looked similar to each other as well. They both had long, thin faces with short, curly white hair, and they looked so much alike that Sir Topham believed they were in fact identical twins. The only thing that set them apart was that, instead of having the usual pearl necklaces that he would have expected to be hanging around their necks, they both had a gold necklace with their names engraved on little gold-coloured plates. He started to lean forward to read their names but stopped as he realised that, in his rush to get to the station that morning, he'd left his reading glasses at home.

Instead, he said, "There, you're safe now. Maybe you would tell me your names and I can phone for a taxi or someone to pick you up? And maybe you could explain to me whatever it was you were both doing down on the track."

"Sir Topham, it's us!" both women gasped out together. "You know, Annie and Clarabel!"

"Yes, of course I know Annie and Clarabel. They're two of my coaches."

"No, you don't understand, Sir Topham. WE are Annie and Clarabel."

"My, my," Sir Topham jovially replied, "Now I see. The naming regime we've got for our rolling stock means that somewhere in the world there are bound to be people with the same names as our engines and coaches."

"No, no, Sir Topham. We ARE Annie and Clarabel!"

Smiling bemusedly as he gestured towards the station's café, Sir Topham said, "Come, would you care for a cup of tea, my dears? I'll tell you a few stories about your 'namesakes'. Tell me, though, are you both members of a local train-spotting club or something?"

Glancing back at the now empty tracks as he gently ushered the two old ladies to the café, it was only then that Sir Topham realised that there was no sign of the two coaches. Damn, if that Thomas hasn't left early without his passengers again, he thought to himself. It looks like I'll be having strong words with him when he comes back. He know he must stick to the timetable!

ooo

Toby opened his eyes and groaned as the morning sunlight stung his eyes. After quickly shutting them and turning his head away from the bright glare, he re-opened them and blinked a few times to get rid of the itchiness he could feel in them, then he remembered the events of last night and his sudden derailment. Groaning, he realised that he was laying on his side on the grass bank next to the track where he'd come off, and was feeling quite bruised all over. It felt so strange when he curled his arms up to his chest to hug himself, so strange in fact, that he threw his arms back out again and tried to sit up. Finding out, with a rather astonished "Ooh" that he actually could sit up, he "Ooh-ed" again as he looked down at his legs. This surprised him immensely. He thought back to the moment when he'd derailed as he raced around the bend and tipped over, but there was nothing after that. Silently, he cursed that in his rush to get to Knapford Station with Burnett Stone, he had forgotten about the loose rail. What had happened to him during the night, he wondered, for him to become a human? Was this some kind of dream he was having whilst he unconscious? No, he decided, after prodding both his legs and feeling the pressure of his grey glove-covered finger poking into himself. This is too real for it to be a dream. Then he remembered his dear friend.

"Henrietta, are you all right?" he called out, not looking round for her yet as he was still rather fascinated by the sensation of prodding himself in various places.

"Toby?" a woman's voice replied from behind him. "Where are you? Who's that man?"

Then a loud shriek snapped him out of his self-curiosity and he quickly looked behind, only to see that his friend had also changed during the night.

"What's happened to me? I'm...I'm a woman!"

Toby looked warmly at the elderly woman wearing a brown dress and cardigan that was sitting next to the track several yards behind him.

"He-Henrietta? Tha-that's you?" he asked, just to confirm what he assumed to be true. Stupid old me, he thought to himself, Of course it's you. "Henrietta, my dear. You're...you're beautiful!"

Slowly, he got up from where he was sitting and hobbled over to her, holding out his hand to help her get to her feet.

"Ooh!" she moaned. "I'm aching all over!"

"I-I don't know what's happened, my dear, only that it has, and I think it's got something to do with whatever is wrong with Lady. Do you remember what Burnett was saying to us last night?" He reached out and gently took hold of the woman's arms and gazed lovingly at his long time friend as he waited for her to reply.

She had a homely sort of face, he thought, slightly amazed that he could notice such a thing amidst their sudden and dire predicament. She had shoulder-length grey hair that curled inwards at the bottom and deep brown eyes that seemed to sparkle, lighting up her grey-skinned face as she glanced around. Around her neck was a gold necklace with her name, 'Henrietta', engraved onto a small plate. Looking down at his own chest, he noticed a the number seven embroidered onto the top pocket of the brown jacket-type blazer he was wearing. Most intriguing, he thought.

Hearing a groan several yards away to one side, he remembered with some alarm both his passenger and the urgency that had resulted in him derailing. Letting go of Henrietta, he turned round and saw Burnett Stone laying flat on his back on the bank of grass. Next to his head was a small, blood-stained rock. There was also blood on his forehead that, Toby deduced, was from where he'd obviously banged his head. His left arm had been broken when they'd crashed, and as Toby walked over to him, the shattered end of a bone could be clearly seen sticking out of his lower arm just a couple of inches up from his wrist. Thankfully, it looked as though the wound had stopped bleeding as it had started to scab over, so no major veins or arteries had been cut. Burnett gave out another groan as his eyes fluttered open.

"Don't move," Toby said to him. "You've got a broken arm and you've got a nasty cut on your head."

Through blurry eyes, Burnett looked up at the man speaking to him. He couldn't make out his face but he looked old. He groaned as he tried to move his head and his vision blurred again. He also felt very faint. A thumping headache and an excruciating pain in his left arm confirmed what the apparently elderly man had just said to him.

"I feel rotten," groaned Burnett. "What happened?"

"We derailed," Toby told him. "You fell out of my cab as we crashed. I'm aching all over and I don't know what's happened for me and Henrietta to be like this," he added, gesturing to himself.

Burnett rapidly blinked for a few moments to clear his eyes and studied the grey-haired old man that was pointing towards himself with his finger. He was wearing a blue pair of trousers that had grass-stains on the knees, and a brown jacket and waistcoat combination with matching brown tie. The jacket had black leather elbow-patches that, Burnett thought, made him look like an elderly schoolteacher.

"Who...who are you?" he asked. "Where...where's Toby, the engine I was on last night? Where is he? I-I can't see him anywhere...and I...I don't remember seeing you before...before we crashed. I thought Toby said that they didn't...have any other passengers!"

"Believe it or not," the elderly man said, "but I am, in fact, Toby! Something strange has happened to me and Henrietta. We...we've changed! We...we've become human!"

Burnett slowly turned his head and saw the elderly man pointing to a woman standing just behind him and then at a number seven on the front pocket of his jacket. The woman he'd called Henrietta pointed to her necklace and smiled wanly.

Toby, thinking up a plan, tried to project his words into Burnett's mind just as he'd been doing last night before they crashed, and to his surprise, failed. Resorting back to using his mouth to speak, he said. "Please, Burnett, allow me to introduce you to my dear friend, Henrietta."

Burnett looked carefully at the man, then the woman, and then at their surroundings. There was no sign of the tramcar that he knew as Toby, nor the coach, but knowing the magic of the railways as he did, he could sense that what the elderly man was saying was indeed true.

"Lady," Burnett suddenly moaned, feeling quite dizzy all of a sudden. "She's really ill and there's black...black-"

A bout of coughing halted Burnett's explanation and Toby quickly but carefully helped him to sit up.

"Yes, you explained everything to me last night," he said.

"Tha...thank you, Toby," gasped Burnett. "Somehow or other, we need to get to Knapford, but I think it's too late for that now, seeing what's happened to the both of you." He started to cough again and had to spit to one side to clear his aching throat.

"Ooh, that didn't help my head at all," he groaned. "I just don't understand it. I damped down her fire but...but the smoke kept coming and wouldn't stop, even when her fire was out. I just can't understand what's wrong with her. The...the smoke was filling her cave and...and as she was telling me what I had to do. She...she...told me to leave! I had to get out in the end as I couldn't breath any longer and...and there was this most horrid smell! It was like burnt flesh mixed with rubber and rotting wood. I ran outside and I...I had to leave Lady behind to suffer alone!"

Burnett started to cry with grief at what he'd been forced to do. For many years he'd cut himself off from the rest of the world as he tried everything he could think of, and fail, to bring her back to life. It wasn't until his granddaughter, Lily, had suggested using Sodor coal to fire her up that he had any success, and then that frightening chase here on Sodor as she and Thomas fled from Diesel 10, not safe from him until a weak bridge collapsed under the heavy diesel's weight.

Between tearful sobs, Burnett spoke again. "I couldn't s-s-stay with her. She...she sent me away. I ran to my pick-up and drove to Sh-sh-shining T-t-time Station. There was all this black s-s-smoke c-c-coming out of the entrance to the cave and it was getting thicker and thicker. It...it filled the sky. It was like d-d-day had turned into night, and then it started to rain. The raindrops were...they were black and too big. Everywhere they landed, there was slime, and...and the colour of the ground started to fade and turn grey like the mist that came. By the time I reached the station, it...it had become a downpour. All the people on the streets were gone. I went into the office and I s-s-saw Stacy and poor Mister C. She was unconscious and he...he was lying still on the ledge. H-h-his magic was all gone. Just like it's going to do to Lady. I've...I've failed her again!" Burnett moaned and his shoulders shook as he broke down in loud cries of grief.

Toby understood the man's despair for he'd been told by Thomas of the discovery of the magic buffers and the events at Shining Time and the engineer's long struggle to bring Lady back to life again. Indeed, he himself had played his part in helping to save the magical engine when Diesel 10 and his two cronies had planned to destroy the magic buffers linking the two railroads together. He'd managed to distract the big diesel, causing him to bring a shed roof down upon himself and his two cronies. Smiling at the memory, he put his arm around Burnett's shoulders and gently said to him, "We'll find some way to get to Sir Topham. He'll know what to do."

Just how exactly they were going to get to Knapford, that was the question, but the sound of traffic passing by now and again on the road the other side of the grass bank gave Toby an idea.

He waved Henrietta over to him and asked, "Can you watch him for a few minutes, please, my dear? I'm going to get us a lift."

He then carefully made his way up the grass bank until he was standing beside the road. Being rather early, he had to wait a while for another car or something to come by. He glanced back down a few times to where Henrietta and Burnett were to make sure that they were okay. Then, another car came along in the right direction, thankfully, and he stepped onto the road, waving his arms to attract the driver's attention. As the car pulled up to stop in front of him, Toby saw the driver was a young woman.

She wound down her window a couple of inches and waited for him to go to her side of the car. He went over, and said, "Excuse me, Miss, but I need your help!"

"What's the matter?" the young woman asked, nervously looking up at the old man standing next to her car.

"It's my friend," the old man replied, pointing back towards the grass bank. "He's had a rather nasty accident and he's broken his arm. It's very important we get to Knapford Railway Station to see Sir Topham Hatt. Can you take us there, please, Miss?"

Toby looked expectantly at the woman as she frowned slightly, contemplating what he'd just asked of her. She had long, dark-blonde hair that was tied back into a ponytail that only barely hid its curly nature, and blue eyes that looked back up at him as she twisted a few loose strands of hair with her left hand. She wasn't thin, per se, but she had a lean and lightly-freckled face and Toby found himself distracted by her quickly-moving fingers as they released and re-captured the long, loose strands.

"Well," she replied, tilting her head to one side as she came to a decision, believing the old man to be rather harmless. "I'm going to Knapford as it happens, but it's a hospital your friend needs to go to if he's seriously hurt, and that's the other way!"

The woman then looked to where the man was pointing, and said, "I don't see your friend anywhere. Where is he?"

"He's down the bank, by the railway track," Toby replied. "He's feeling rather weak at the moment."

"Oh! Um, do you need any help to get him up here?"

"Oh, yes, please, if you'd be so kind?"

The woman switched off the car's engine, put her hazard lights on and opened her door to follow Toby, but not before pocketing her car keys. For all she knew, this might be some sort of scam to steal her car!

"Be careful as you come down," Toby called back to her, looking back over his shoulder. "It's a bit steep. Here, take my arm!"

The woman held onto Toby as they made their way over to Burnett, whose sobbing had muted into a quiet, occasional sniffle, and Toby could see that the engineer had been helped by Henrietta into a kneeling position. He was cradling his left arm close to his chest with his right and looking a bit dazed.

"Is it safe to move him?" the young woman asked, looking down at the injured man kneeling on the ground and staring into space. If he felt as bad as he looked, she thought to herself, he must be in a very bad state.

She could see the sleeve of his brown overalls had been pulled back, revealing a broken bone sticking out of his lower arm, and looking at his bloody forehead, she thought that he might have concussion as well.

"I think so," replied Toby. "His legs seem to be okay."

"I really think he should go to the hospital. I can drive somewhere and phone for an ambulance for him, if you'd like?"

"Yes, he ought to go to the hospital," agreed Toby, "but it's really important that we see Sir Topham first. It's a matter of life or death!"

"Oh, well, if you insist," the young woman said, "but please, once you've seen this Sir Topham fellow, please, call for an ambulance for your friend!"

Toby smiled as the young woman then suggested they use Burnett's trousers belt to make a temporary sling for his injured arm, and with some assistance from Henrietta, he carefully helped Burnett to stand up before removing the belt from around the engineer's overalls. Looping it over Burnett's head, he carefully slipped the loose end between his broken arm and body before threading and securing it into the buckle, and then, with him standing on one side of the engineer and the two women on the other, they helped Burnett to walk slowly up the grass bank towards the car.

Getting him into the young woman's car was a bit awkward for them as Toby first had to get in the back to help Burnett sit down without jolting his arm too badly, and soon, with the young woman's assistance, they managed to get him seated comfortably and belted up, making sure that they didn't touch his injured arm.

"Thank you, Miss," said Toby. "I'll make sure he gets to the hospital as soon as we've seen Sir Topham."

As they set off towards Knapford, Toby thought back to when he'd woken up that morning. He'd never imagined that he'd ever be in a situation like this. Also, his mind was thinking of so many new things that were strange and fascinating to him, he had a hard time concentrating on any one of them, but for all their novelty, there was something faintly familiar with them, and he frowned as he couldn't quite place what it was. He shook his head to dispel then all. Although he appeared to be a human, he was still a tram engine, but was he a human now forever, never to be a tram engine again? He didn't know, and he wished with all his might that Sir Topham would know what to do in order to solve this problem for him.

ooOOoo