Something Most Foul

by tonygestaple

Crossover. Thomas and his Friends wake up one morning to find that Something Most Foul has come to the Island of Sodor. A cry for help leads them to new discoveries that may change their lives forever.

10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Various cliques sat around the half-dozen tables in the station's café as they discussed the momentous change that had befallen upon them overnight, as well as what might happen to them now that they didn't have any railway work to do. Since waking up that morning, every member of the cliques had found themselves thrust into a strange world that, although it held so much familiarity, having seen most of it from on the track, they were still feeling that they would never fit in comfortably.

One of the tables in the centre of the café was occupied by all males. Three of the men used to be two goods wagons and a flatbed, and the two youngsters being former coal trucks that sometimes accompanied them on their former travels around Sodor. Their main concern, apart from the fact that they weren't wagons any more, was that they didn't have anyone telling them what they were supposed to be doing.

Henry had told them earlier that day to make their way to Knapford Station to be representatives of the other former freight wagons that stayed behind at the marshalling yards, and the tall, green-coated former engine had had to keep ordering them and a sizeable group of former coaches - all females - to stop loitering and get a move on. The group of former wagons that were left behind had then been instructed by Henry to tidy up the mess that had been made by all the cargo that had been dumped on the tracks after their transformation.

A similar scene was going on amongst the female occupants of the other central table, as the former coaches consoled each other after their traumatic awakening that morning. As coaches, all they'd ever done was to provide as smooth a ride for their passengers as they possibly could, the speed they travelled at notwithstanding, as that was controlled by the engines that pulled them. Now, though, they were feeling lost, and not one of them was handling it at all well. In other words, there was a lot of wailing and wringing of hands amongst the ladies that ranged in age from their early twenties all the way to very elderly. Annie, Clarabel and Henrietta, though, being the eldest of the group of seven women, were doing their best to comfort their younger companions.

The two tables near the far wall of the café were loosely occupied by some of the former diesels as they listened to Diesel and Diesel 10 bickering over the best way to get the former steamies into trouble without incurring the wrath of Sir Topham Hatt. Dodge, meanwhile, was quite content to sample the various food items that the café was currently stocked with, all washed down with the strongest of black coffees that Doris, the canteen lady, had made in a long while. She, meanwhile, was wondering where on earth the former diesel was managing to put it all.

Daisy was flitting back and forth from one rear table to another, trying to find some sympathy for the ordeal she'd gone through earlier that day when Roger had attacked her, and was not having much success at it as everyone felt that their own problems were more important that those of the lamentful former railcar. She'd sat down next to BoCo a couple of times and hadn't got anything from him other than the occasional grunt of agreement as he stared sullenly at the former steamies sitting near the café entrance, laughing and joking as they reminisced over past escapades.

The steamies had ignored Daisy when she sat down with them hoping for sympathy and maybe to hear anything that could be useful to Diesel 10 in his effort to watch out for everyone. All she'd had from them were glares whenever she tried joining in with their conversation. Even Toby, whom she worked with on the branch lines had ignored her, though she wasn't sure if it was because she'd taken it upon herself to go wandering off with Mavis or if it was because they were all so much older than her. It didn't enter her mind that that they all resented her because she was a diesel.

Emily's speech since her transformation was getting more incomprehensible as the day wore on, making it very difficult to understand her whenever she spoke, and her rich Scottish brogue, Daisy spitefully thought when she was being admonished by her for her recklessness, made her sound as though she had something stuck in her funnel. The worst of the steamies, in Daisy's opinion, was that short, fat Percy, especially when he'd raised his voice at her, berating her for her foolishness and not doing as he'd told her, and then, when that other fatty, Duck, had joined in to say that what she'd done most certainly wasn't the Great Western way of doing things, she'd finally had enough and burst into tears as she ran out onto the platform to be alone in her misery and away from her admonishing detractors.

ooo

Victor, the shunting engine that the men at the repair works used to move the broken-down engines that couldn't move themselves, had been helping the engineers all morning to tend to the two distressed engines. On top of that, the stress of their failed efforts and his own struggle to get accustomed to his new form had become obvious to Lawrence Harrington, the manager of the repair works, and he had told Victor to go and take a break away from the activity inside the main shed.

One of the human engineers, Keith, had volunteered to keep the former shunting engine company, and had taken him for a tour of the smaller sheds where he'd been unable to go when he was an engine. Victor, looking at the machinery inside the sheds, had been fascinated with all the small tools and lathes that Keith and his colleagues used to bend, shape or cut the various bits of metal used to repair the engines, and it had helped to distract him from his woes, but his main worry was still for the plight of poor Neville and Molly inside the main repair shed.

Returning back inside to once more try and help to the two engines, both he and Keith were devastated that Molly had apparently succumbed to whatever it was that she and Neville were suffering from. Victor couldn't explain it, but deep down, he knew that whatever it was that had caused himself to transform from an engine into a human, had somehow failed to have the same effect on the two engines that had been there overnight, and he also thought that they were suffering because they hadn't changed like he had. As a result of the failed transformation, they were stuck in a half-way stage with no way to save them from their ordeal.

"WHAT'S HAPPENED?" shouted Keith, seeing Dennis and some of the other workers carrying somebody towards the first-aid room.

"IT'S GORDON, THE ENGINE," Dennis called back. "HE TRIED TO HELP MOLLY BUT SOMETHING'S MADE HIM GO SICK!"

"WHAT'S HE DOING HERE?" Keith asked him.

"HE CAME HERE WITH ME TO CHECK ON THE ENGINES," the fitter, Alan, said to him. Looking at the clothes of the man next to the engineer, he asked, "ARE YOU VICTOR?"

Victor was dressed in a dark red set of overalls with yellow lining and black and yellow hazard stripes on the hems of his sleeves and legs. On the front of his overalls was the Sodor Steamworks logo. "YES, I AM," he shouted. "HELLO, ALAN, SIR."

"HELP US CARRY HIM, VICTOR, HE WEIGHS A TON!" Dennis told him.

Victor joined in to help the other men carry the convulsing Gordon and couldn't help but notice the state of his clothing. "HE'S ALL UNDONE," he wailed.

Finally reaching the first-aid room, they laid Gordon onto a low cot and Dennis ordered everyone bar Victor out of the small room and then closed the door, shutting out most of Neville's wailing. Gordon's body was trembling, and although he was still sweating profusely, his coughing had slackened somewhat.

"I don't know what I can do for him," said Dennis. "He breathed in a lot of that foul smoke Molly was giving off and then he started coughing. Victor, get me one of those towels over there and soak it with water in the sink please. Squeeze the water out of it and then wipe his forehead with it."

Whilst Victor was at the sink, Dennis muttered to himself, "Let me think, now...if he's like any other human and he's breathed in lots of smoke, then it's obviously affected his lungs, so he needs to breathe more oxygen."

Victor returned to the cot and started to wipe the sweat off Gordon's forehead. "Gordon," he said, "it's me, Victor. If anyone can help you, it'll be me and Dennis. Take it easy, big fella!"

Dennis, hoping that he was doing the right thing for Gordon, placed a clear, plastic mask over his nose and mouth and held it in place, but Gordon started to cough again and tried to force the mask off, which meant that Victor had to help Dennis to keep the sick former engine's arms down at his sides. Mercifully, Gordon's struggles ceased after a couple of breaths of the oxygen-rich air, and his body's trembling stopped. Soon, he fell asleep.

Both Dennis and Victor silently watched his scarred chest rise and fall as he lay on the cot; the engineer pondering over the mystery of the strange brands while he held the mask in place, and the former shunting engine, not knowing that the scars and brands were in any way out of the ordinary, just watched and waited.

"It seems to be working," said Dennis, as he stretched the mask's elastic strap behind Gordon's head to hold it in place, then, he lifted one of Gordon's arms up to check his pulse. "I've no idea what it's supposed to be for him," he said, "but if it feels right, then it must be okay for him, I suppose."

"What are you doing, Sir?" asked Victor.

"I'm checking his pulse," Dennis replied.

Realising just to whom he was talking to, Dennis decided that he'd better explain with some simple mechanics and biology exactly what he was doing. "You engines," he said, "have coal burning inside your firebox to heat the water that's in your boiler to make the steam that then forces your pistons to move. Your moving pistons are connected to shafts that turn your wheels and they drive you forwards or backwards. We humans eat food that our stomachs dissolve to supply energy to our blood that is carried through our bodies in little tubes. See?"

Victor looked at the blue-ish lines on Dennis' own wrist that the engineer was pointing to. "Ooh, yes," he cooed. " I see them."

"Well," continued Dennis, "we humans have a heart, which is a pump inside our chests that, well, pumps the blood through our veins, and our heart pumps at a certain rate, fast for when we need lots of energy, and slow for when we're resting. We have lungs inside our chests as well, and they work like pumps, but they suck in air for us to breathe and they take oxygen, which is a gas, out from that air. Our bodies need oxygen to live, you see, and it's carried around in our blood as well."

"It must be very important for you, this blood," said Victor.

"It is," agreed Dennis, quite easily pulling Gordon's left glove off and checking his pulse. "When we fall ill, doctors check how well our heart is pumping by checking our pulse to see if it is weak or strong, and right now, Gordon's heart appears to be quite healthy, seeing as he's got a body like a human instead of metal, and, according to his pulse, it doesn't seem to be going too fast or too slow. Here, Victor, no, hang on, a moment...can you take your gloves off?"

Victor tugged his left glove with his right hand and replied, "No, I can't."

"That must be the way it's supposed to be, then. Before Gordon fell ill, he couldn't take his gloves off, either, nor could he undo his coat. Lawrence tried to undo Gordon's coat but it was stuck fast until after he became ill, but I managed to undo the buttons just before you returned with Keith. I think the smoke must have weakened whatever it is that keeps him all together. Hmmm, that bears thinking about. Anyway, Victor, put your ear to Gordon's chest by here and listen to his heart beating."

"Ooh, can I?" Victor asked, excitedly.

"Yes, go ahead..."

Victor leant over Gordon's prone body and carefully rested his head where Dennis had pointed, and listened...

"That's amazing," he exclaimed, standing up. "Have I got a heart as well?"

"I would say yes," replied Dennis. "When our hearts become too weak to carry on beating, humans go to a hospital to have a special operation where the doctors take out our weak heart and put a healthier one in- SHIT! Look at THAT!"

"What's wrong, Sir?" asked Victor, suddenly fearful for Gordon.

"That mark by there..."

Dennis was pointing to a straight scar about six inches long on Gordon's chest. "It looks just like an operation scar," he said. "Look, just by there...there...there, and all along here. You can see where a needle has gone through his skin for the stitches. I'd got to tell Mr. Harrington about this. Stay here, Victor, in case he wakes up."

ooo

"They're at it again," muttered Diesel 10, gesturing with his head towards the former steamies trying to quieten Percy's ranting and raving about inconsiderate diesels. Had Diesel Ten been looking at the noisy group a minute ago, he'd have seen Daisy run out of the café, but he was more interested in conspiring with Diesel and BoCo as he explained to them ways that they could rile up the steamies without themselves getting into trouble as well.

"They're too full of pride," he said. "Because they've been here so long, they think they OWN the railways. You've seen how they react whenever a new diesel comes to the island. The more we can get them to throw tantrums, the sooner it'll be that Topham Hatt decides to get rid of them."

"It's Thomas and that Percy over there that are the worst," sneered Diesel. "Thomas is so full of himself, and that Percy does nothing but insult us all the time. I hope they're the first ones to go."

"Just think how efficient the railways will be without the steamies breaking down all the time," added Diesel 10. "It's more diesels that Sir Topham needs to get on Sodor, not steam engines that slow everything down. What we really need is to d–"

The café door opening and Sir Topham's entrance with an unfamiliar young woman brought everyone's conversations to a stop, well, she was unfamiliar to all but Toby and Henrietta, who immediately jumped up and squealed, "Ooh, hello Jeanie!"

Jeanie smiled back at the elderly woman, but before she could say anything to her, Sir Topham, after looking around the café to see who was there all, announced, "My friends, I'd like to introduce you all to my new assistant, Miss Jeanie Watkins. She'll be helping me to, um, to help you all get used to your, er, new condition. I'm not going to have time to help you all myself, but feel free to talk with her about anything you want to know about being, er, people. I don't know how long it'll be before I can find a solution to Lady's magic failing, though, but I do have some clues to look into."

"Sir Topham, how long are we all going to be here for, Sir?" asked Percy.

"I don't know yet, Percy, why do you ask?"

"Well, Sir, I don't want to stay here with the diesels, Sir. They're mean and nasty, Sir."

"Hah!" laughed BoCo. "Us, mean and nasty? I was watching you steamies being mean and nasty to Daisy just a minute or so ago. You were all so nasty to her she ran off crying!"

"I didn't see that," Diesel 10 whispered to him.

"I did," BoCo quietly replied, then, to Sir Topham, he said, "Sir, they were scolding her for wandering off this morning."

"What do you mean 'wandering off'?" Sir Topham asked him.

Diesel 10 stood up and said, "Sir Topham, Percy allowed her to leave the café this morning and go into Knapford town. I found her several miles away being attacked by a man, so I saved her and brought her back."

"WHAT?" shouted Sir Topham. The last thing he wanted was for the former trains to get into any trouble, especially away from the station where he wouldn't be able to keep an eye on them. "Explain yourself, Percy!" he demanded. "I believe I told you to keep everyone here. Why was she allowed to wander off?"

"I-I-I don't know. Sir!" answered Percy, mournfully. "There were so many others here that I lost track of her. I'm so sorry, Sir!"

Sir Topham looked around the café again, now noticing that the former trains had segregated themselves into their respective groups, then he noticed something else. "Where's Henry?" he asked. "I thought he'd be back by now."

Percy gulped nervously. "He-he's gone missing as well, Sir. I-I-I don't know where he's gone, Sir!"

Sir Topham sighed in exasperation, glared at Percy, and asked, "Is there anyone else missing that I should know about?"

"I havna seen na sight o' tha wee lassie, Mavis, since this verra morn," said Emily. "I dinna ken whaur she be!"

"I'm sorry," said Sir Topham, "but could you say that again, please, Emily. I didn't quite catch what you said."

"She said, Sir Topham," volunteered Diesel 10, standing up, "that Mavis has gone missing as well. That's two, no, three former engines that Percy's lost so far. I think that it would have been wiser for you to have put someone else in charge, someone that would have been more...respected. Somebody like me, for instance?"

"YOU STINKING, SLIMY DIESEL!" shouted Percy, getting up so fast that he knocked his chair over. Glaring across the café, he yelled, "IT'S NOT MY FAULT WE'RE ALL LIKE THIS, YOU...YOU PROBABLY HAD SOMETH-"

"SILENCE, ALL OF YOU!" roared Sir Topham, then, turning to face the enraged Percy, he said, "I think he's right, Percy. I may have made a mistake putting you in charge this morning. I think tha-"

"BUT, SIR," wailed Percy, "IT'S HIS FAUL-"

"I SAID SILENCE!" Sir Topham shouted again. "I'VE GOT ENOUGH PROBLEMS ALREADY WITHOUT HAVING TO HEAR YOU LOT ARGUING! Now, Percy, why have you got bruises all over your face?"

But before Percy could reply, Emily decided to put her two-penn'orth in. "It wis tham there diesels tha were hae a wee fankle wi tha steamies an it went to a reet rammie oot on yon platform."

Sir Topham stared at the green-coated woman and said, "What on Earth did you just say, Emily?"

"She said," said Henrietta, "that the diesels and the steamies were having a little problem with each other and that they all started fighting on the platform, Sir Topham."

"Thank you, Henrietta," said Sir Topham, then he turned towards Diesel 10 and asked, "Was this you causing problems again?"

"No, Sir Topham," replied Diesel 10 in indignation, "I wasn't even here at the time. Even Percy'd agree with that. Am I right, Percy?"

"Yes, you're right," Percy hissed angrily, fuming inside that he couldn't deny the bully's statement.

"Well?" Sir Topham asked the room in general. "What was all the fighting for, then?"

"They started bossing us around," said Diesel. "Just as though they owned the place."

Sir Topham sighed impatiently. "There's only one boss here," he said, "and that's ME! If I hear of any more fighting, you'll all be in trouble when this is over. I want you all to stop acting like children and to start acting like useful eng-, people instead and to work together. If any of you see Thomas and James when they get back here, send them to see me in my office. Now, what's this about Daisy wandering off?"

"If I may, Sir Topham?" said Diesel 10. "I was returning to Knapford after, er, looking for any engines or trucks that may have wandered off when I saw Daisy being attacked by a human man. Like I said, I saved her and brought her back to Knapford. We were all sitting in here quite peaceful when, not long before you came in, Percy and the other steamies started to berate her. It seems she got upset and ran off again."

"Where did you find her being attacked?"

"Not far from Dryaw, Sir Topham. I, er, chased the man away and brought her back on the pump trolley I, er, we were using." Diesel Ten pointed at himself and then to Dodge sitting nearby.

"How on Earth did she manage to get that far away?" Sir Topham asked him.

"Well, she told me that she and Mavis left after the, er, disagreement the others all had this morning and went off to look at the shops in Knapford. The man that gave them a lift to the station this morning saw them and offered to buy them some food. He took them to a pub and when Mavis went outside to look at some swans in the river, Daisy felt ill. The man took her for a ride in his car to make her feel better and then he attacked her. Then we came by and I saved her."

Sir Topham studied Diesel 10 closely. Yes, it was quite true that the former class 2 had been a rather unfriendly and problematic engine before last night's mysterious event, but his present helpfulness suggested that it had been his former large size that had made him so troublesome. Maybe now that there wasn't such a difference in size between him and the former steamies, his bullying and aggressive temperament may have cooled down somewhat. Yes, thought Sir Topham, I'll give him a chance to show that he has learned his lesson.

"Then I offer my thanks to you for looking out for the other engines, Diesel Ten. Well done! So, where's Mavis now?"

Percy, hearing Sir Topham congratulating his nemesis, became angrier than ever. "S-S-Sir! How could you? After all he's done to us? He's nothing but a big bully! Aren't you going to tell him off for soaking me and Thomas in muddy water?"

"Ah, yes, I'd forgotten about that," said Sir Topham. "I hope, Diesel Ten, that I won't hear any more of your bullying the smaller engines like that?"

"Er...no, Sir. I'm sorry, I won't do it again," Diesel Ten replied. Now that I don't need to, he thought.

"Very good," said Sir Topham. "Now, again, whe-"

"IS THAT IT?" raged Percy. "IS THAT ALL YOU'RE GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?"

Sir Topham had had enough. Quite lived, he turned to the short, podgy former steam engine and said, with frightening calmness, "Percy, just who exactly do you think you're talking to in that manner?"

Suddenly, Percy was ashamed as he realised his mistake, and he stammered, "I-I-I'm very sorry, Sir Topham. I won't do it again. Please f-f-forgive m-m-me, Sir."

Percy knew that he had a short temper, and to suddenly lose control of himself like that when talking to Sir Topham Hatt was the worst thing he'd ever done since he'd arrived on Sodor. His face reddened with shame and he hoped that he wasn't going to be punished for this by being sent to the scrapyard and melted down. "You won't h-h-have have me m-m-melted down, w-w-will you, S-S-Sir, I'm s-s-so sorry."

"That depends on you, Percy. You need to improve your manners. Now, again, where is Mavis?"

"There was no sign of her, Sir Topham," said Diesel 10. "Being a former train, I didn't know where the pub was for me to go and look for her."

Sir Topham groaned in despair.

"Sir Topham?" a female voice suddenly called from the doorway.

Sir Topham turned round and saw his secretary standing behind him. "Yes, Debra?"

"Sir, Crovan's Gate are on the phone. It's very urgent and they want to speak to you right away, Sir. Gordon's just been taken seriously ill and...and..." Debra faltered, not quite sure why the manager of the engine repair works had insisted that what she said next was so important.

"Yes, and what?" prompted Sir Topham, annoyed at the sudden interruption and distressed that it was one of his wife's favourite engines that was in some sort of trouble. "What else did they say?"

"His...his coat, Sir," replied Debra. "They've...they've taken his coat off, Sir, and...and his gloves and his underclothes as well. They also said that Gordon had such a high temperature that he was almost burning up inside and...and that he wouldn't stop coughing."

"I see," frowned Sir Topham. He turned to Jeanie and said, "We'll do this another time, unless you want to stay here?"

Jeanie paused, for she certainly wasn't expecting to witness what had just gone on in front of her, and she hadn't taken a liking to the short man that had kept losing his temper, and the other man that had rescued the one called Daisy, well, he very well may have been polite when he spoke, but he had a sly and sneaky look about him that made her skin crawl. The other men sitting near him looked rather grim as well, and she wasn't sure how they would respond to her.

The men and women sitting at the other tables all looked confused, and she wondered why there were a couple of youngsters there as well. Were they former trains as well? She wondered. The idea of being dropped into all this so soon was quite un-nerving, and she tried to think of a way to delay it. Then she had an idea.

"What about Daisy?" she asked Sir Topham. "If she's upset after being scolded, shouldn't we find her first?"

"Yes, you're right. Ladies..." he said, turning to the group of seated women. "I want you all to go and find Daisy and bring her back here, please."

The women, not wanting to incur Sir Topham's wrath, and at the same time grateful that someone had given them something to do, all stood up and left the café, silently squeezing between Sir Topham and Jeanie as they made their way out onto the platform.

"Go with them, please, Jeanie. Being a, er, real woman, you may be able to deal with her better than they could."

"Of course, Sir Topham," she replied.

Relieved, Jeanie went out after the women and followed after Henrietta, calling to her to wait for a moment as she caught up to her.

ooo

Sir Topham returned to his office and sat at his desk, waiting for Debra to put the call from Crovan's Gate through to him. He leant to his left and pulled open one of the lower drawers of the filing cabinet next to his desk. Quickly rummaging through the spring-bound folders inside, he found the one he was looking for, pulled it out and placed it on his desk in front of him. On the front of the manila folder was a white label with just one word printed on it in thick, black capitals: GORDON.

He opened the folder to reveal several technical schematics of an experimental steam engine, an 'A0 Pacific' that had been built in Doncaster by Sir Nigel Gresley sometime between 1917 and 1920. Sir Topham already knew that when Gresely had finished using Gordon for designing his A1 Pacifics, he had then gone on to sell the engine, along with a spare boiler and firebox, not that they'll be of much use right now, he thought, to the North Western Railway. Then the phone rang once and he picked up the receiver. "Lawrence, tell me what's wrong with Gordon?"

Lawrence Harrington had been the manager of the repair sheds at Crovan's Gate Steamworks for the last fifteen years after starting work there as an apprentice blacksmith when he was thirteen, and since then, he'd never seen anything like what he was seeing today. He'd seen all sorts of damage and peculiar situations that the sentient engines had managed to get themselves into, situations that ranged from quite serious to rather amusing, and with the skilled workers he had working under him, they'd all been successfully repaired and put back onto the tracks in a first class state. The current situation, though, had been unimaginable to him, and he just didn't know what to do about the nightmare scene that was waiting for the workers when they clocked in that morning.

The men and the former shunting engine, Victor, had tried talking to the two trains as they went through what he could only describe as hellish agony, but it had all been for nothing. The two engines had been trying to tell the men something, but no-one there could make out what they were trying to say because the pain they were experiencing was to much for them to speak properly. The men had even attempted to light the engine's fireboxes to see if that would help bring them out of whatever it was they were suffering from, but that had to stop when all that happened was that the grey smoke from the burning kindling was suddenly sucked into their flue-tubes and then blown out through their chimneys in a black smog-like cloud. Not only that, but their metal bodywork had then begun to blister before finally fracturing into rips and fissures, which caused the two engines to shriek and cry out even louder. As well as all that, communication between the workers was hampered by the fact that they had all been forced to wear ear-muffs to protect themselves from being deafened by the loud, ear-piercing racket that the two poor engines were making.

The former engine, Victor, had become really upset when even he couldn't understand them, and then, when Gordon had arrived with one of the fitters from Knapford, Lawrence had thought that maybe he could be able to get through to Neville and Molly where everyone else had failed, only for it to go disastrously wrong. Whether or not it was the physical contact between him and Molly that had affected Gordon, or if it was just a coincidence, Lawrence didn't know, for nothing like that had happened when Victor had touched her during his attempts earlier in the day. This time, though, it had ended with Molly dying and Gordon beginning to suffer a 'human' version of what the two engines had been suffering.

Lawrence had tried repeatedly to contact Sir Topham Hatt only to be told by his secretary that he was out dealing with other matters relating to the mysterious event that the affected the island's trains. Now, thankfully, Lawrence could actually speak to him. If Sir Topham could only offer a solution of some sort...

"Ah, Sir Topham. It's bad here! I...I don't know where to start...It's Gordon, he's...he's started convulsing. Neville is still an engine and he's screaming in pain, and Molly...Molly was, too, until...until she died a few minutes ago. Sir, I...I just don't know what to do for him!"

"Lawrence, I need you to calm down," the fretting works manager heard Sir Topham say.

"Y-y-yes, Sir Topham. I'm...I'm sorry. I-I-I..."

Sir Topham knew exactly how Lawrence was feeling. It seemed as though since he'd arrived at Knapford Station that morning, a series of disasters was trying its very best to drive him to despair, for no sooner than he'd start to deal with one of the crises when another would rapidly occur, not giving him a moment to sit and think of a way to resolve any of them. He hadn't even had a moment to really go over what he'd learnt from the letters and notes from his father and grandfather, only a gist of what the now-dead researchers had actually done all those years ago, which had really shocked and upset him, and he'd been shocked just now on being told that he'd lost one of his engines forever.

Feeling as though he'd been punched in the gut, he heard himself saying, "It's all right, Lawrence, I can believe it with all that's happened today."

Trying to focus on what was happening to Gordon right now, rather than what had already happened and could be changed, he said, "Debra told me that you'd managed to get his clothes off him, yes?"

"Yes, Sir Topham, but his skin...well, it...it was horrible to look at. There were these marks all over it that looked as though they'd been burnt onto him with a branding iron, but he was a steam engine, for God's sake, not a prize bull!"

"Lawrence, you'll have to trust me on this, but I'm asking you to ignore those marks. They're not important to his current suffering. They're...they're to do with the railway magic. That's all I can tell you about them right now, I'm sorry to say. Lawrence, tell me, are you able to care for him there?"

"I don't know, Sir Topham. All we can really do for him is to bathe him with water to cool him down and check to see if he's still breathing. We're engineers here, not doctors."

"I realise that, Lawrence, and I don't know if doctors would really be able to help him anyway, and besides that, those brandings would raise too many awkward questions. I think it's best to keep him there with you for now."

"We'll do what we can, Sir Topham, but what about Neville? He's still suffering and we just can't find any way to help him. Have you any ideas that may help?"

Several moments passed in silence as Lawrence waited for a reply.

"Sir Topham, are you still there?" "Yes, I'm still here, Lawrence. That noise in the background, is that Neville?"

"Yes, Sir Topham. It's been like that since we arrived here this morning. Both of them until Molly...until she died, then it was just Neville."

"Give me just a moment, please, Lawrence."

Sir Topham put the receiver down onto the blotter in front of him and, with both hands now free, used them to support his bowed head as he contemplated Molly's death and his next course of action. In the silence of his office, he could hear the quiet tick-tock of the wall clock as it counted the passing seconds like a countdown of the time remaining before he had to decide Neville's fate. Finally, he sat upright and picked up the receiver.

"Lawrence, please listen carefully, for this is what I want you to do..."

ooo

At Crovan's Gate, Lawrence bid goodbye to Sir Topham and put down the receiver before sitting back in his chair. He thought for a few moments of all the wondrous things he'd seen and had been involved with since being introduced to the magical railways by Sir Topham's father as an apprentice engineer. He'd almost doubted his own sanity when Charles Topham Hatt, one of the most prominent men on Sodor at the time, had met him outside the repair sheds on his first day at work there and asked for a few minutes of his time and a signature on a piece of paper. He, a lowly apprentice, finding himself chatting with the owner of several of the railway companies on Sodor! He'd had another shock when the great man had paused his friendly questioning of how well Lawrence thought he'd do there as an apprentice to suddenly ask him if he believed in magic. Lawrence had found that very strange, but remained silent when Charles then called out, 'Edward, come here a moment, please.'

Lawrence recalled his bemusement when, after looking around and not seeing anyone nearby except for a blue steam engine, that very same steam engine then slowly rolled forward before stopping just a few feet away from the two men. He remembered how alarmed he'd been when they'd both walked around to the engine's footplate and he'd realised that there wasn't even a driver or fireman in the engine's cab, and surprise even more when Charles had led him back to stand in front of the engine and then spoken to the locomotive itself, saying, 'Edward, I'd like you to meet Lawrence Harrington. He's going to be learning how to repair you should you ever breakdown.'

Not knowing what to make of the man's unusual behaviour, Lawrence had screamed in fright when the black, round metal disc of the engine's smokebox suddenly morphed into a grey-coloured human face with two round eyes, a small, pointy nose, and a smiling mouth that suddenly moved to say, 'Hello, Lawrence, I'm Edward, and I'm very pleased to meet you!'

Lawrence chuckled as he recalled that day and being reassured by Sir Hatt that all was well as he was told about the magical railways and how demanding his job was going to be once he became a qualified engineer. His brief moment of cheer abruptly disappeared when he thought of what he'd been told to do.

Since becoming manager of the repair works, he'd been fortunate that no engine had ever been involved in an accident or situation serious enough to warrant this kind of decision, but he knew that his predecessor had had to do it on two occasions, both times as a result of a head-on collision with another engine. Lawrence had been the foreman of the works at the time, and he well-remembered the feelings of grief that had descended upon the workforce afterwards, as well as the sense of failure that the men had felt when they found out that all their efforts to save the seriously-damaged engines had been in vain. Sighing, Lawrence reached down to the lower drawer of his desk and pulled out a nearly-full bottle of whisky and plastic cup. He unscrewed the metal cap and poured himself a two-finger measure of the amber-coloured liquid.

Slowly turning the plastic cup between his hands, he thought of the two poor engines that, when he'd left the sheds the previous evening, had been chatting together about how much they were looking forward to being repaired and sent out back out to work, and he raised the plastic cup into the air, quietly whispering, "To Molly and Neville." He quickly swallowed the burning liquid and replaced the bottle and cup in their drawer, then he stood up and took out a new pair of safety gloves from an opened box on top of a filing cabinet near the door to his office.

Just as Lawrence was about to leave his office, he tsked as he suddenly stopped, returned to his desk, and opened another drawer to take out a small, pocket-sized torch. Now suitably equipped, he made his way back to the main shed where the last recognisable engine on Sodor was waiting for him.

As he walked out onto the shop-floor, the workers clustered around Neville looked to him questioningly, to which he responded with a brief shake of his head, and as he neared the group, he made sure to make silent eye contact with each of them, hoping that they would recognise by his tight-lipped grimace exactly what he intended to do.

He was somewhat consoled by the sight of bowed heads that the men were only too aware of his intention, and saw Alan, the fitter that had arrived with Gordon not so long ago, spit in disgust onto the concrete floor. Lawrence gave a sympathetic frown to Jimmy Jackson, one of the younger engineers, as he suddenly broke out in tears but not turning away from his colleagues to hide his embarrassment at being affected in such a manner. Lawrence halted his slow walk and stood in front of Neville, staring at the engine's face as it morphed repeatedly between flesh and steel, never staying in one form for more than a few seconds as his wailing went up and down in both loudness and tone.

His task was a simple physical one, but, mentally, it weighed on his mind like an executioner's axe, and Lawrence was no killer. With trembling hands, he started to put on his gloves, accidentally dropping one of them to the floor as he fumbled his attempt at taking his watch off while still holding his torch. He cursed, placed the torch between his teeth and picked up the fallen glove after putting his watch into a pocket, finally managing to fit the remaining glove onto his hand. He stepped around to the side of the wailing engine and walked along its flank towards the cab, looking with concentration at the engine's valve gear and wheels as he passed by, trying to focus his mind on anything other than what he was about to do. A moment of light-headedness made him sway as he climbed up onto the cab's footplate, forcing him to rest for a moment to regain his composure as a tightness formed inside his chest as he thought of the consequences of his task's completion.

Breathing deeply, he knelt down and opened Neville's firebox doors to see the remains of the failed attempts at lighting a fire. He reached inside the firebox to brush the charred kindling to one side and pushed the top half of his body inside and twisting round to support his weight with his left hand on the firebox's grilled floor. Then, after feeling along the back fire-plate with his right hand, he slid aside a small plate to reveal a thin metal bar resting on two small u-shaped brackets. He lifted the bar out of the brackets and the plate they'd been securing fell downwards to reveal a small, dark compartment. Inside the confined space of the firebox, Neville's pained screeching was heard as a low, thunderous roar that reverberated all around him and made his chest felt as though his ribs were vibrating.

Awkwardly, he reached inside the compartment, wishing absurdly for a moment that his arm had two elbows just to make such a movement easier, and felt around with his fingers until they brushed against a jelly-like mass. He poked the soft but yielding substance a couple of times until the tips of his fingers felt a hard surface. He then pushed the rest of his hand inside the jelly until he could wrap his fingers around what he was seeking. He pulled his hand out from the jelly and immediately felt a lessening in the intensity of the engine's cries, then, seconds later, the vibration inside the firebox and his chest both stopped at the same time.

Carefully extracting himself from inside the firebox, he stood up and shone the thin beam of his torch onto what he was holding and saw a small, black, multi-sided crystalline object about the size of a walnut. It was so black that it seemed to absorb the torchlight itself, at least that's what he thought it was doing, as nowhere on its solid-looking surface could he see any shine or reflection. That's strange, he thought to himself. Sir Topham said that it should be white.

He climbed back down out of Neville's cab and walked round to the front of the now quieter engine as its wailing was replaced by a gentle keening sound that was diminishing in volume almost to the point of nothing. Looking up at Neville's face, he noticed that its morphing slowed down in pace, and was now stayed still long enough for the engine's anguished eyes to stop their rolling about and stare fixedly at him.

"Neville," Lawrence said gently, now not having to shout in order to be heard, "I'm...I'm so sorry. You were suffering too much. There...there was no other way. Goodbye, my friend."

In the now-silent repair shed, the only thing that could be heard was the faint sound of Gordon coughing in the first-aid room, and Lawrence continued to look at the black-bodied engine as Neville soundlessly expressed his last few words before he closed his eyes forever, Thank you, Lawrence.

Lawrence felt a tear run down his cheek as Neville's grey face morphed back into a black, iron smokebox door for the last time ever.

Dennis left the first-aid room and abruptly came to a halt as he realised that he was walking into deathly silence. Looking at the scene in front of him, he let out a sad sigh as he noticed his boss tightening shut the handles of Molly's smokebox door. Walking over to the yellow locomotive and seeing the miserable expressions on his colleagues' faces, it was pretty obvious what had happened; Neville had gone as well.

As he got nearer to the two engines, he glanced briefly over to the black engine before looking back at Lawrence, and asked, "Gone?"

"On Sir Topham's orders," said Lawrence, noticing his arrival as he climbed down to the ground and stood in front of Molly.

"I see," said Dennis, grimacing.

"How's Gordon?" Lawrence asked him. "The silence coming from the first-aid room tells me that he's either sleeping now or that he's died as well."

"He's sleeping, Sir," replied Dennis. "Mister Harrington, Sir, there's something I need to tell you regarding Gordon. It would be better if I showed you."

"What do you mean?" asked Lawrence.

"It's something I've found, Sir. Please...if you could look at him?"

ooOOoo