Sodor Superhero
The Island of Sodor stretches for miles across vast blue ocean. There are forests and buildings and even airfields. But what it has the most supply of is railroad tracks. Every day of the week, the owner of the railway, Sir Topham Hatt, takes careful check to make sure his many engines are travelling smoothly up and down them, arriving at their assigned stations right on time.
Gordon and Henry are two of the biggest engines, Really Useful in pulling passengers and freight. James is the only large engine with a shiny red coat, and you can often hear him gloating about it to anyone who will listen. Often, the smaller engines just ignore him.
Days are never the same on the Island of Sodor, for something more often than once comes up unexpectedly.
Saturday was a particular day for Harold, the loud, droning whirlybird helicopter that swarmed in during an emergency rescue. A message was relayed out to the airfield where Harold rested at night: one of the signals on the railroad tracks was jammed, and it linked to the main line that Gordon usually ran along. The mechanism that switched the angle of the tracks was stuck, and Gordon was currently moving along the line with his passengers. Sir Topham Hatt needed Harold to assist with the signalmen.
"I love a good emergency," Harold drawled as his propeller flew to life. "It's good exercise for my stiff wings."
His engine whirred and he was lifted into the air.
He had been flying halfway to the trouble site when his back propeller began making strange sounds. His rear motor was losing energy, and he began to lose height.
"Something's wrong!" cried his driver, struggling to keep him in the air.
Harold's engine struggled for life.
"I knew we should have replaced the motor," the driver moaned.
"Is there anything you can do?" Harold asked.
"Nothing," the driver stated. "I'm doing everything I can. I'm sorry, Harold, but you are losing height faster than Gordon can pull passengers along the main line."
Black smoke began to pour out Harold's back end. The driver leaned out the side window to call for help. Harold whirred and groaned, using everything his propellers had left in them to keep himself in the air. He was falling, down…down…
He stopped. He was hovering, held straight up, over the ground. Something red and blue swooped under him in a blur and pushed him up. A redhead wearing a red and blue costume and a mask over her eyes peered out from beneath Harold's runners, using her own ability to float above ground to aid him in the height he had lost.
"What's happening?" called out Harold's driver in wonder. "It's a miracle!"
"A girl wearing a cape is holding me up," replied Harold in amazement. "I've never seen anything like it. She's pushing me from below while she flies miles above the ground."
He knew there was a word for these types of creatures. They were called superheroes.
The masked redhead safely lowered him down by the desperate signalmen at the stuck signal.
"Harold is glad to be of service, and so am I," the superhero said in response to their shocked looks. "He had his own emergency on his way over here, and it's a great thing I sensed it. Oh, well, toodle-oo."
She gave them a happy wave and flew off.
"Bother," realized Harold after it was too late. "I didn't even think of asking her who she was. She really did wonders for my damaged engine."
The news didn't take long to reach Sir Topham Hatt, and soon, the engines. Harold's driver could not stop talking about the strange masked girl who could fly simply on her own power.
"A superhero," mused Sir Topham Hatt in amazement. "Well, I'll be! Sodor never gets anything like that."
"Harold would have crashed had it not been for her," said the driver truthfully.
The superhero zoomed across Henry's forest in her colorful blur, straightening any crooked tree branches, and whooshed out to the freight car field, fixing broken chutes and shunting the cars back into their proper places in line. The naughty freight cars were so taken by her incredible powers that they had quite forgotten to be naughty and instead moved on her will.
Percy arrived to shunt just as she was finishing her rounds. He wanted to see if Sir Topham Hatt's superhero story was true and perhaps introduce himself. He wanted her to save him, too.
"Hey, wait!" he called desperately as she grew startled and flew off. His wheeshing had brought him unannounced. "I—I'm sorry; I didn't mean to frighten you!"
He began to follow the path in which he had last seen her, but she had been too quick.
Poor Percy was out of breath by the time he found her. She was wallowing on a tree branch in Henry's forest, letting her legs hang down loose as she surveyed the view. She could see much of the island from up here.
"Excuse me, Miss Superhero," Percy called up once he had enough steam to talk again. "Please don't fly away again. I just wanted to get to know you and see if Sir Topham Hatt was telling the truth. I'm Percy. To whom do I owe this pleasure?"
"Hello again, Percy!" chirped the superhero cheerily, jumping down from the tree in such a blur that the resulting wind ruffled the steam coming out of his funnel. "I'm Sodorsquirt, the very first superhero on the Island of Sodor!"
She swept her cape around mightily. "I'm here to fight for good, defeat all evil, and save little tank engines in the peak of trouble!"
Percy was impressed. He was also overwhelmed with her use of long sentences. He couldn't keep up, but he laughed with joy.
"So what distant planet do you hail from, Sodorsquirt?" he asked curiously.
"I hail from the planet Ibar, in the faraway galaxy of Estrane," answered Sodorsquirt proudly. "I came here in hopes of fixing things up on this island. I understand your boss Sir Topham Hatt likes a good first impression, and I know little tank engines can't do everything alone. Now I must go and find Thomas. I'm sure he needs some Sodorsquirt spirit in whatever Sir Topham Hatt asked him to do."
"I'll go with you," Percy said confidently.
There was something distinctly familiar about Sodorsquirt, and Percy could feel it in his boiler. Her hair, her form, her manners—it was all there.
It can't be her, he thought to himself. She's Sodorsquirt, the very first superhero on the Island of Sodor. I must never question a superhero's values.
"But she can trust me," he said out loud. "I can keep a secret. I know it's Allison. I won't tell a soul, not even Thomas. She can trust me."
But Thomas seemed to have it figured out as well when Sodorsquirt flew over his head while he was taking passengers in Annie and Clarabel.
"Hello," he called to her as she swooped past his carriages. "I'm Thomas."
"I know who you are," replied Sodorsquirt honestly. "I'm Sodorsquirt, the very first superhero on the Island of Sodor."
She repeated the same spiel she had used on Percy.
Thomas normally would have been fooled under ordinary circumstances, but here, he actually got a little cheeky. He knew the voice well; it was one he never missed hearing.
"It's nice to meet you—Sodorsquirt," he said in his cheeky way, "but you don't have to disguise yourself as a superhero to feel Really Useful. Allison was way more Really Useful with her singing, dancing and Irish fiddling. I'd much rather prefer her over a red and blue whirlybird like you. This island can barely handle one Harold."
Sodorsquirt understood every word he was saying, and her eyes glittered through her mask.
"I suppose you are right, Thomas," she said pointedly. "You obviously feel very close to your human friend. I only thought that on this island, anything was possible. Forgive me for—er—swooping back and forth as a red and blue blur. I can barely keep up with myself."
Thomas looked understanding.
"I'm sorry I was cheeky," he said truthfully, "and I'll do you a favor from your flying. How about I give you a special ride in my cab back to the station? It's on me. Allison would want it that way."
"I'd love to," answered Sodorsquirt with gusto. "You always seem to know what an island superhero wants, Thomas. That is one thing I will always remember about you."
And Thomas the Tank Engine, his best friend Sodorsquirt in his cab, puffed out a breath of steam happily from his funnel, knowing he had saved the Island of Sodor's first superhero a long and tiresome flight.