Let it be known that Erika does not belong to me, she belongs to The Raging Blue Flame
Nothing Like A Little Daylight to Warm Your Pistons (part 1):
Sodor, November 2013
A few days have passed since Casey told the story about Matthew's death, and each night he stayed at a different place, or even ran an all-night freight special one time. This particular early morning he was out pulling a local passenger between Wellsworth Station and Elsbridge station to connect the passengers to Thomas' branch line. He was waiting on a red signal on the main line when suddenly, he heard a very deep whistle, "demonic" as the sodor engines described American whistles. Casey never understood why, European whistles sound like dying birds of various sizes and yet they think of his as strange. Anywho he looked up ahead, and already he could tell it was too big to be a European so it must be American, and she was coming fast. Finally she sped past him, he could already tell it was a girl but what he wasn't prepared for was the type. A 4-8-4 Northern with orange, red, and black livery.
"Guys, was that a Daylight? He asked.
"I don't know, but it sure did look like one," replied the driver.
A couple of hours later, Casey's Local was waiting for Thomas to take his passengers at Elbridge Station. Jerry was talking to his firewoman, Brittney about something. Jerry was a gentleman around his late 60's, his once brown hair is finally starting to turn grey, however he remains in good shape. Brittney was a young woman in her early twenties with blonde hair and brown eyes, she had a shape that would easily make all the uncivilized men howl like wolves. While he did find her attractive, Jerry saw her more as a student and a friend, pretty soon, she will take over as Casey's driver as his retirement years are slowly approaching. He was now talking to her about how to spot a responsible fireman.
"Remember, if he or she only cares about gett'n her job done and nothing more, they ain't gonna to learn from mistakes very quickly, often times they will leave you to clean Casey out yourself. When that happens, you might wanna either give 'em a piece of yur mind, and it that don't work, ask for a replacement before they either kill ya with work overload, or break Casey here beyond repair." He said with a Cajun accent. He was from New Orleans, Louisiana obviously but he and his family moved to Chattanooga Tennessee when he was a teenager to get away from the high crime rates and low abilities to arm himself for protection due to some of the toughest gun control laws in the U.S.
"Don't worry Jerry, I'll make sure Casey here is well kept," she laughed. She was originally from Lakeland Florida, but wanting to be a driver ever since the first time she went to the Amtrak station downtown with her grandmother, she earned up enough money to go to the Modoc Railroad Academy, the first and only full service educational railroad training school in the United States, located in Marion, Illinois. Unfortunately, there were none of the major companies were willing to hire her when she completed it, just because they weren't fond with teaching any college kids about their lines, like all the other big companies around the U.S. So she moved back south to get a job, do some volunteer work at a museum, and gain the experience that maybe a railroading company like CSX, Norfolk Southern, or maybe even Union Pacific would hire her, and what better museum than the TVRM? While she worked full time for Amazon during the weekdays she did her volunteer work on the weekends where she learned how to drive steamers like Casey, Cassidy, and Sarge, another locomotive that ran at museums, he was a Baldwin Lima-Hamilton 2-8-0 Consolidation #610, he was one of the last locomotives built for service in the United States and he ran as a trainer for the U.S. Army before being obtained by the National Railway Historical Society in Alabama after his retirement in the '60s, and he was donated to the TVRM in 1978. He is currently awaiting his turn for a massive overhaul so that he can pull Norfolk Southern's 21st Century Steam program with all the other operational locomotives in the Museum.
Anywho, the crew had taken a real liking to Casey and when they learned that he was being sold to the North Western Railway on Sodor they immediately applied for citizenship. Of course it will be a few years before either one of them can actually be a legal citizen citizen but Sir Topham Hat was more than happy to have a crew that was familiar with Casey continue to work with him. Today, Casey was still trying to picture what he saw in the morning in his mind when Thomas arrived with his two Victorian Era coaches Annie and Clarabelle.
"Hey, Thomas, is there a GS-4 Daylight on Sodor?" Casey asked him.
"Yes, and I'm surprised you haven't met her yet," was the little blue tanker's reply.
"As am I since you mention it, do you know her?"
"Yeah, her name is Erika, she normally pulls expresses like Gordon and she double-heads with him every evening."
Huh, Erika, where have I heard that name before? Casey thought to himself.
"Did you meet her when you were both in the states?" Thomas asked.
"I think so, I may have met her when I went on my final run before retirement."
"Well, maybe you'll get to see her tonight when you come back to Tidmouth."
"Here's hop'n." Casey said and with a whistle blow from the conductor and then a pair of blasts from his whistle, he set off for Knapfford. Trying to remember how his trip to California in 1952 went and what happened.
Richmond, Virginia, September 30, 1952:
It had been seven years since World War Two was officially over and the Korean War was in at its peak. Casey thought when the war began it would again halt the advancement and mass production of diesels. But reality was, that wasn't the case, by 1948 they were all over Southern Railway. Cassidy was sold earlier that year to the East Tennessee and Western North Carolina Railroad and Sarah was sold to the Kentucky and Tennessee Railway in 1948. To make matters worse, already all of the railways famous passenger trains were taken over by E-series diesels and steam was slowly losing its freight service to Geeps and F-Units. On this morning though, Casey's current driver, a young African American by the name of Marcellus Whirly, opened the door to Casey's current stall as usual. Casey could remember the first time they met, he was the first negro engineer he had and he wasn't expecting to have one while he served on Southern at all, what with the southern states being segregated in those days and all. He wasn't a bad man and he did do the extra work to keep the Alco healthy, but he and Casey never quite got to know each other very well considering they've only known each other for a couple of months, John retired after WW1 and Casey had several drivers that were drafted by the military before Marcellus came in. Marcellus also got along enough with Barry, the fifth fireman Casey's had in his life and he too was young, he was a bit lazier and more wanting to get his paycheck than caring about Casey's health so he usually left before Marcellus could make him stay and clean. This morning Casey groaned at the sudden awakening and looked down to him.
"Dog-gone it Marcellus, any louder and you would have woken these here idiotic diesels." he quietly complained. That was the main problem Casey had to deal with, the diesels are rude, mean and cocky for the most part.
"Sorry Casey, I just wanted to get an early start, for I have some good news and bad news for you." The driver smiled.
"News? What's the good news?" Casey asked.
"Well, I was gonna wait until we get there BUT, just for you, the good news is that we're going all the way out to California to deliver fruit, livestock, and building materials."
"California? Why in heaven's name would they send me all the way out to California?"
"Well, that's where the bad news comes in I'm afraid, it's your last run."
"So they're finally retire'n me, twenty years later than most of my kind." Southern retired most of the 2-8-0 consolidations in the 1930's in favor of mikados like Sarah or the 2-10-2's, or other larger engines, but they did keep a few of them for main-line service or branch-line work. Casey usually worked the Missionary Ridge branch line until World War 2 started where the need for extra power brought him back to the main line for the rest of his career.
Sodor:
Casey's flashback was cut short when he came to a stop at the first station after Elsbridge, he looked all around and saw James pass by with a short freight train. And soon after, Erika, rolled in beside him and noticed the green Southern Alco trying to process his thoughts.
"Morning!" she said, to see just how far deep he was in thought. Casey looked over and for the first time in over sixty years he saw a GS-4 Daylight.
"OH! Uh, Morn'n ma'am, I didn't notice you come in."
"I can see that…you must be Casey."
"Yes ma'am I am, and you must be Erika." Casey replied
"Yep, that's me, most beautiful engine in the world" she boasted. Casey smiled as he rolled her eyes at that comment, then he noticed she looked much younger than she should have, like a teenager, but he didn't say anything, best not to offend her or bring up any bad memories. But she noticed something familiar with him, and she wasted no time.
"Do I know you from somewhere? You look like someone I met in Cali." She said.
"Well my last run took me to California in '52, not quite sure if that helps any." Casey replied.
"Not really" And with that the conductor for Casey's train blew his whistle while waiving his flag.
"Well, it was nice meet'n you, maybe our familiarity will be answered when we meet again" Casey said and with that he puffed away.
"Hmm, I know that deep voice and that face from somewhere, but where?" Erika asked herself as she watched him leave.
Why must my memory be bad at the most awkward of times? Casey thought. Again he went into trying to remember his encounter with her.
Virginia, 1952:
During the whole time it took for Marcellus and Barry when he finally showed up to get Casey making steam, the Alco was grieving about how this is his last train, and it didn't take long for Joe, a black F7 diesel number 4213 to figure out what was going on. Joe originally worked for the New Jersey Central but Southern bought him in 1950, and he wasted no time to take chances to piss off Casey or other steamers about being old technology, and he spent what felt like an eternity mocking them for it. He also made fun of the Southern diesels for being, well, Southern, always berating their intelligence and their characters.
"So, you're finally going to be retied huh? Took 'em long enough to realize the superiority of us diesels, first it's you and then it will be all of the rest of you kind!" he said rudely with a New Jersey accent. That was another thing Casey hated about Joe, his voice was really annoying and often times he would call Casey "Brother Yankee" to make fun of his Southern heritage that stretched all the way to the Civil War. But today, Casey was not going to have any of it.
"Oh for cry'n out loud Joe, shut up! I'm sick and tired of your cargo spill'n stupidity!" he snapped.
"Now you wait one second, I told you that wasn't my fault, it was the fault of those fighter jet boys, they decided to have a low flyby and the scare made me drop my cargo!"
"That don't matter none, an engine must be prepared for anything."
"Easy Casey, you know arguing with him is like arguing with a fence post" Marcellus but in.
"Yeah, you listen to your engineer Brother Yankee, wouldn't want to have to be scrapped before you can make yourself look old out west!" Joe mocked, but at the moment, with plenty of steam, Casey had enough, he blasted Joe with a powerful stream of steam for ten long seconds. The blast was so strong, he actually melted the livery off of the front right quadrant, particularly the cab, right off and exposed the primer. The other diesels laughed at Joe's dilemma and Casey gave a triumphant smile.
"Y-y-you are going to pay for this indignity!" Joe threatened, still shocked about what had just happened.
"I ain't got no regrets" Casey replied and Marcellus pulled him out of the roundhouse and towards the freight yard.
Sodor, 2013:
Casey chuckled to himself at the memory, to this day he still doesn't regret doing what he did to Joe, and he'd be more than happy to blast him again. He was stopped at a red signal when he noticed Percy on the main line with the mail train. Percy noticed the expression on Casey's face that said he was remembering something funny, and he didn't want to left out of a joke.
"Hey Casey, what are you thinking about?" he asked. Casey looked to him and his smile grew.
"Ever see a diesel with half its paint melted off?"
"No."
Casey couldn't keep himself from laughing now.
"I won't deny Percy, it's the funniest thing I'll ever see in my entire life"