Alright, next chapter. Though I'll warn you...this will be a rather dark one.
Saturday, June 23rd, 1923
Around the time Thomas had come back from the works, Henry had begun pulling passenger trains again, the passengers having mostly left behind his 'tunnel incident' (though the other engines didn't). Since then, Alfred and Cecil had been the ones handling the heavy goods work, much to their displeasure. Especially since they had to shunt their own trains together, much to the amusement of Thomas, who loved seeing the bigger engines being humiliated (the only one he particularly liked was Kirk).
However, today, a month later, Henry wasn't in the sheds. His firebars collapsed the previous day, and Emily's safety valve had burst trying to take him to the works. As a result, Sir Kastrioti had to make an announcement that he clearly didn't want to, by the sound of his voice.
"Good morning, engines...I have a bit of an announcement to make. I'm sure you might have noticed that Henry and Emily aren't here with you. They're currently at the works because of a respective case of collapsed firebars and a burst safety valve. Repairs will take some time for both."
The other engines gave mixed reactions to this. Most of them weren't pleased to have Henry and Emily away, but Alfred and Cecil didn't seem to care that much about them. It was then that the latter two became the focus of what Sir Kastrioti had to say next.
"Now then, thanks to these vacancies, someone will have to fill them in. As a result, I have reluctantly decided to take Alfred and Cecil off of their punishments early, as we need to fill in the holes in the schedules that have come as a result of Henry and Emily's absence. Those two shall assume their work until they get back from the works."
"Truly, sir?" Alfred asked, suddenly elated.
"Does that mean we get to pull passenger trains again?" Cecil asked also, sharing Alfred's mood.
Sir Kastrioti rubbed his forehead. "Yes, it does...though I will say that you two will still have to handle some goods work, as that is a part of Henry and Emily's workload. Also, if you two behave badly again, then I will make you resume your punishments as soon as I'm able to."
This dampened the demeanor of the two big engines a fair bit, but they still seemed pleased to be pulling passengers again.
The other engines, who had quickly grown weary of Alfred and Cecil's attitudes, weren't happy hearing this, least of all Thomas, who was fuming. He really, really, really didn't like Alfred or Cecil at all, and he'd liked seeing them humiliated by having to do goods work. On a more personal note, now he wouldn't be able to pull any trains himself.
"I wish I was able to pull a train again one day." Thomas thought, most displeased.
Thomas was still fuming when he shunted the coaches to Vicarstown Station. He wasn't rough with the coaches, but he was still irritated that he had to shunt this train together for Alfred and Cecil. It was the express train, and it was also a Saturday during the Summer Rush. On a day like this, there would be many visitors and vacationers to and from the mainland, so the express would have to have extra coaches in order to keep up with demand. Usually, the Express had six to eight coaches, but today, it had eleven. A long train like this meant that it would often have to be double-headed if it was to be on time, and that was the case today.
"About time you got our train here, puffball!" Thomas heard Alfred's jeering voice.
"Yeah! If you were any slower, you'd make US late!" Cecil's voice followed afterwards.
"Those stupid big engines..." Thomas muttered to himself. "They haven't changed at all! I'd love to teach them a lesson..."
"Steady, Thomas," His driver told him, "be patient. Your chance will come."
"It can't come soon enough." Thomas replied irritably as he was uncoupled from the coaches so that the passengers could start boarding the coaches, which they soon did. Once this happened, Thomas backed out of the station and went to go assemble the next train.
Little did he, his crew, or anyone else know that disaster would strike.
Running from the Dubbyn Moar, winding east of Peel Godred and down south between Maron and Cronk and into the Irish Sea, the Ab River is Sodor's longest river. When the North Western Railway was formed from the unification of several different smaller railways on the island in 1914, a viaduct was built over the river, with work finishing in 1917.
However, it had recently been found that the viaduct's design was faulty thanks to wear and tear having been accumulated much quicker than normal. The viaduct's builder was replaced with a new engineer who sought to correct his predecessor's faults before anything bad happened. These repairs would take some time, though, as the faults were rather extensive, so all trains had been ordered to cross the bridge slowly to prevent excess strain while the repairs were taking place. Most of the engines understood why this was in place, but Alfred, Cecil, and Gordon were all quite annoyed, as they were used to going fast and wanted to do so badly, but their drivers wouldn't let them do so over the bridge.
Today, though, Alfred and Cecil thought that they had an opportunity. Not only were they pulling the express again, but they both had different drivers and different firemen. See, Alfred's and Cecil's cab crews were all good friends with each other, and today, they were attending a wedding between the brother of Alfred's driver and the sister of Cecil's fireman. In their absence, relief crews had stepped in, and they were both new and inexperienced, and unfamiliar with Alfred and Cecil and their habits.
Alfred and Cecil were in a particularly reckless mood, and the other engines could tell.
"Take care with the Viaduct!" A red ex-FR tank engine named Albert warned them as they went through Ballahoo. But the two didn't listen to them.
"Now's our chance..." Alfred and Cecil though simultaneously. They were supposed to let their crews know when they were about to approach the viaduct. But they deliberately didn't, as they thought that if they went over the bridge fast enough, it wouldn't collapse under them. Instead, they'd goaded their crews (which, being relief crews, were, again, unfamiliar with their engines' habits) into making them go as fast as possible, claiming that there was no speed limit and that they could safely break records if they did.
But then the trouble started. Near Cronk, the two were accidentally diverted onto a different track of the main line by a signalman who was having trouble with one of the levers. This wouldn't have seemed like a big deal at first...except that, unbeknownst to Alfred and Cecil, their crews, or any of the passengers on the train, up ahead on that particular track, there was a repair train stationed on the bridge. No engine was with it at the time, but it consisted of a few work coaches and a rail crane, with numerous workmen there with it carrying out repairs on the bridge. Given that there was no way to directly communicate with the repair train, neither the workmen with it nor either engine with or any person on the passenger train knew that disaster would come...
...Until it was about to happen. Thanks to a hillside blind spot along the bend leading up to the bridge, Cecil, the lead engine, didn't see the repair train in the way, and neither did Alfred. However, as they rounded that bend, Cecil finally saw the repair train up ahead and realized that they were in danger. Alfred didn't, though.
"Alfred, stop!" Cecil shouted as his driver put on his brakes.
But Alfred, not seeing the danger, didn't put on the brakes as well. "What are we stopping for? Come on!"
Because only one engine was braking, the train didn't slow down very much...
...and by the time it was about to go onto the bridge, it was still traveling at a high rate of speed. The workmen on the repair train frantically tried to run away from the incoming collision...
...but it was too late.
*BANGCRASHSMASH*
Cecil and Alfred plowed into the repair train head-on, throwing themselves off the rails and slamming down onto the viaduct's bed, their coaches piling up behind them. The force of the collision had caused those coaches, which were made mainly of wood, to telescope into each other as well as smash themselves against the sides of the viaduct, which strained the already-unstable structure beyond what it could handle...
*RUMBLERUMBLERUMBLE*
...and caused it to give way. Alfred, Cecil, their crews, the repair train, and anyone on either train that hadn't yet been smashed, crushed, or flattened by the collision...
*CRASHSMASHSPLASH*
...all were sent plummeting into the river below as the viaduct collapsed completely and utterly.
Thomas was arranging passenger coaches with a dull demeanor when, to his surprise, Sir Kastrioti came running up to him.
"Uh, sir?" Thomas was confused. "What is it-"
"Thomas, leave those coaches!" Sir Kastrioti ordered urgently. "There's been a horrible accident on the Ab River Viaduct with the express! You need to get the breakdown train immediately!"
"Y-yes sir!" Thomas didn't argue. Sir Kastrioti could sound urgent at times, but he was never THAT urgent...unless it was something very serious. So he went over and backed down in front of the breakdown train, which consisted of a works coach and two cranes, and which workmen were piling into at rapid speed. When they were all in and ready to go, Thomas set off towards the viaduct, Sir Kastrioti in the cab with him, to his further surprise.
Initially, though wondering what could get Sir Kastrioti so urgent-sounding, Thomas got more or less lost in viewing the scenery and various passing towns around him, having not left the yards in a long time since he'd first come to Sodor, and this also probably being the first time he pulled a train again since leaving Brighton eight years ago. However, it wouldn't stop burning at him as for what would cause Sir Kastrioti to be in such a demeanor, so he eventually decided to ask as he was running around the repair train once they were almost at the site of the accident.
"Sir, what kind of 'accident' is it?" He didn't like the answer he got.
"Thomas, the express has hit a repair train on the bridge, which has collapsed into the Ab River from the strain. This is why I sound so urgent! We need to get there as soon as possible!"
Thomas went quiet at hearing this. He'd never heard of an accident as horrible as this one. All he hoped was that it wasn't THAT bad...
...a hope that was quickly dashed when he saw what he saw and heard what he heard when they got there.
There was more or less a gaping void where the viaduct was supposed to be, and the rails just before it were bent. Screams of agony and cries for help belted out from below where the viaduct used to be, and Thomas could see smoke and flames rising from below. One other engine was already there on the other side with another breakdown train, which was currently pulling out one of the wrecked coaches. Thomas didn't know who that engine was, but, curious as he was, he knew that wasn't really important. Upon looking around, he could also see what seemed to be firefighters either running around getting tools and supplies, or going to the river to either fight the fires or attempt to rescue people. He could also see ambulances having people loaded into them...some looking more alive than others.
Worryingly, as the seconds turned into minutes, Thomas didn't see that many people getting rescued as he went back and forth, taking away the coaches that were lifted out of the water and onto the rails' more intact sections (that weren't utterly destroyed/split in half or with destroyed couplings) once rescue workers cleared them of anyone and anything in them. He hoped that it was because he wasn't there to see most of them as he was taking the coaches away.
"Sir, how many people usually ride the express train at one time?" Thomas asked Sir Kastrioti, who was standing there assessing the situation, while he was preparing to take a pair of damaged coaches away on his third time back.
"If its six to eight coaches like it usually is, then it's generally 300 to 400, perhaps 500. However, sometimes, like today, we have, or I should say HAD, 11 coaches, which brings the possible total up to 700. I know why you're asking, Thomas...this may just be the worst accident I've ever seen and ever will see. I just hope that we can save as many people as we can."
"And what about Alfred and Cecil, sir?"
"We'll get to them later. Their crews and the passengers come first."
Then, as minutes turned into hours, other engines and more people joined in on the rescue effort, with police there as well to both assist in the rescue and make sure that the rescue workers could do their job without unnecessary interference. Eventually, as the sun was going down, all of the coaches (or, in some cases at the very least, the remains of coaches that could be fished out of the water) had been recovered and taken away...as well as a great deal of those upon both trains, alive and not.
Now, for the recovery of Alfred and Cecil. Thomas watched as, one by one, first Alfred, then Alfred's Tender, then Cecil's Tender, and then Cecil himself, were all dragged out of the water and lifted onto flatbeds. Cecil's front was badly mangled, and both engines suffered rather significant damage in general. Thomas didn't know if they could be repaired.
"I want an explanation as to why this happened first thing back." Sir Kastrioti was firm as he spoke what needed to be said. "No lies."
Thomas was tasked with taking them back to Vicarstown as Sir Kastrioti road in his cab again. The journey back was a long silence. Thomas didn't know what to say. He was sure that he would never see something as horrible as this ever again...and he hoped that such was the case. Badly.
Eventually, Thomas got back to Vicarstown, where he put the two engines in a siding. Despite the horrible situation, Sir Kastrioti was pleased with his efforts.
"While this is an ordeal that I'd rather never have to say it for...you did well today, Thomas. I'm glad you've shown me you can do well with a train, and especially with a rescue like this."
"Thank you, sir." Thomas would have been more happy to hear this...but he was horrified by what he'd seen. He doubted he'd ever forget the sounds of the dying and injured crying out in pain, or the sight of the dead and dying being taken away.
Sir Kastrioti sighed as he saw Thomas leave for the sheds. Now that the young tank engine was out of earshot, he turned to the two engines.
"So...would you two like to explain this nightmare? This literally bloody nightmare that has most certainly taken the lives of many? What the damn hell happened? You two would do well to tell me now."
Cecil was the first to speak, apparently trying to paint himself in a good light. "Well, I saw the danger up ahead, and I tried to stop, but Alfred didn't and pushed me-"
But Alfred interrupted him. "Well, I didn't see whatever that was we hit, and it was your idea for us to go faster-"
Then, Cecil interrupted him back. "No, you did! You told me that we could break records if we did that!"
"You were the one who said that, not me!"
"No, you were!"
As the two argued, Sir Kastrioti felt his blood boil. He'd never seen or heard of such carelessness before in his life before this day. But now there was this. This could not go unanswered.
"ENOUGH!" Sir Kastrioti finally shouted the two silent, more furious than he'd ever been before in his life. "You two both disgust me! Do you two realize just how many people your arrogance and recklessness has maimed and killed?! How many lives your joint foolishness has ended or ruined?! Your stunts with Thomas and Edward last month have nothing on what you two have done today! You will both be dealt with tomorrow!"
With that, he stormed off, but not before uttering words that he usually never would. "And if you two aren't scrapped by the end of this, you'll wish you had been!" Sir Kastrioti abhorred the idea of pointlessly scrapping engines, and considered the general concept of scrapping engines to be questionable at best...but given what these two had done by committing what had to be one of the stupidest acts known to any railway in all of Britain, he had a hard time regretting saying such.
His office was nearby, thankfully, but that was of little comfort, as he now had to write a report as to what the hell had just happened. And then, he needed to make a phone call.
The next day, the engines at the sheds were quiet as Sir Kastrioti came up to them. He knew why, as he felt the same way.
"I'm sure you're aware of yesterday's events by now." Sir Kastrioti finally spoke.
"We are, sir." Edward responded. "What was the cause?"
"I will admit that I'm tempted to simply say 'pure reckless stupidity'. Nonetheless, the cause was a combination of three things: primarily Alfred and Cecil speeding at an excessive rate down the line as if trying to break speed records, causing them to crash into a repair train at high speed, which damaged the viaduct to the point where it collapsed. Though I will say that them being diverted onto the same lane as that repair train that was on the bridge due to a faulty lever was also a factor, as was a lack of a means of direct communication between the Signalman and the crew of that Repair Train."
After a pause, Sir Kastrioti continued. "Why Alfred and Cecil decided to speed like that on very day I let them off their punishments early to have them fill in for two other engines is something that we may never know, but whatever their motives were, given how many people have likely died as a result of their actions, and how we've lost a good deal of valuable coaching stock, as well as how the viaduct being out has effectively split the railway in half...the rest of this year will likely be long." Then, he turned to Thomas again. "Thomas, some important people are going to come with one of their engines to take Alfred and Cecil back to the LNER. I want you to shunt them to the back of that engine once the time comes. As for the rest of you, we can only run some of our normal services. Due to the collapsed viaduct between Cronk and Maron, we can only run our passenger and freight train services from here down to Cronk until a replacement is built, which will take time, and which we will have to divert additional resources towards until it is done."
"Yes, sir." The engines offered no challenges to this.
Later, around noon, a visiting engine pulled up near Sir Kastrioti's office, pulling behind him a single brake coach. He was an express engine of a 4-6-2 wheel arrangement, and was adorned in a well-painted-looking LNER Grass Green livery. On his sides were nameplates reading "Flying Scotsman". When Sir Kastrioti stepped out of his office and walked over, the engine flashed a polite smile...though he couldn't keep it for long, which was understandable given the circumstances. Sir Kastrioti gave the undoubtedly fine engine a nod before going over to the coach, whereupon out stepped two important individuals and a few of their aides.
One of them was the Chief Mechanical Engineer (CME) of the LNER himself, Sir Herbert Nigel Gresley. The other was his technical advisor, Sir Vincent Litchfield Raven, himself the former CME of the NER, and the man who had been the builder of Alfred and Cecil.
"I wish we could have met today under better circumstances." Sir Kastrioti greeted warily.
"So do we." Sir Raven replied.
Sir Gresley nodded, motioning for the aides to re-enter the coach, and then walked up front towards his engine. "Scott, go and fill up on coal and water and then find a nearby siding to wait. Please don't stray too far."
"Of course, father." The engine replied before slowly heading off. At that, the three men then walked to Sir Kastrioti's office and went inside. There was silence for a long minute.
Then, Sir Raven shook his head. "All I can truly do now is give my sincerest condolences. To think that a pair of engines I myself built would cause this much trouble for so many. I thought I had taught them better than that." It was clear that the news of the accident had weighed heavily on him.
"Indeed." Sir Gresley agreed. "We had believed that we were giving everyone involved a fair deal by trialing those engines...and now such death and destruction has followed. Something that none of us would ever have wished on any railway, even those with which we have the bitterest of rivalries. Now I'm worried that Gordon and Kirk may not be that different from those two..."
"Nevermind about Gordon and Kirk." Sir Kastrioti replied to that fear, trying to quell it. "They're both fine engines that haven't caused me any trouble thus far. Particularly Kirk, though Gordon, while prideful, still doesn't take such to excess. Unlike Alfred and Cecil, whom I wish to send back."
"Send them back? I suppose we'd have to expect that." Raven then scratched his head. "Though, and it pains me in particular to say this, as I built them, it is likely that, once we return to our railway with them, they will be scrapped. I do not like scrapping engines, and neither does Sir Gresley here...but given that Alfred and Cecil have more or less committed many counts of manslaughter, and depending on how damaged they are, they're likely just liabilities to us at best."
"I understand." Sir Kastrioti was guessing that such an option was entirely possible. When an engine, through sheer carelessness or recklessness, directly had a hand (or "buffer", to put it in such a way) in a fatal accident, the engine being scrapped was never off the table, and it was an option that often was taken in such a situation like this. It was a dark situation all around, but there would be outrage if engines that were seen as "murderers" due to their foolishness ending lives were allowed to run as usual, so, much as he hated to say it, this would probably be for the best. Alfred and Cecil were badly damaged anyways, as far as he could tell the previous evening.
"So..." Sir Gresley was clearly trying to keep the conversation going in order to give Scott ample time to refill on coal and water, "in all seriousness, just how bad is this tragedy?"
Sir Kastrioti was grim. "I would be very surprised if the death toll was less than 100. If we are to talk honestly about numbers, the toll may be over 200, perhaps well over. The coaches were recovered in horrible shape, and of those passengers that I saw being rescued or recovered, two out of ever five seemed to be dead or dying."
"Do you believe you'll have an exact number?" Sir Raven asked.
Sir Kastrioti sighed. "I doubt it, sadly. Both Alfred and Cecil's crews are all dead, including their guards, and the guards' logbooks for the passengers were lost, so I'm afraid we may never know."
The conversation soon shifted towards other details about the incident, grim ones included, as well as who would replace Alfred and Cecil until Sir Kastrioti could get full-time residents. Sir Kastrioti was glad that the two men were sympathetic to his and everyone else's conundrum. However, it was nonetheless little comfort, given the magnitude and severity of yesterday's events.
Thomas was waiting at a siding in the yard when he saw a coach backing towards a nearby water tower, as well as a large green engine that looked quite similar to Gordon, though Thomas could spot a few differences right away...including a nameplate with "Flying Scotsman" engraved on it. At first, Thomas was worried that this big engine would be a snooty, self-important sort like Gordon.
However, this engine, while proud-looking seemed anything but snooty and self-important as Thomas came up besides him out of curiosity. "Oh, hello there. I assume you're a shunter for this railway?"
"Oh! Uh...I am." Thomas would have been cheeky had the situation was different, but after yesterday's events, he just couldn't get into being such today. "How did you know?"
"Well, your shape looks quite similar to the ones we have back on my railway. Do you have a name?"
"Thomas."
"Thomas? Well, that's a fine name. My name's Scott. I wish this would have been in a better situation, but it's always good to meet new engines."
"I...I guess so." That this big engine looked like Gordon wasn't something Thomas could ignore forever. "You look like Gordon."
The big engine didn't seem fazed by this. "So I do? Not surprising. He's my older brother."
Thomas, on the other hand, was surprised to hear this. "Your...he's your brother?!"
Scott laughed. "Well, he's of the same class as me, more or less, and he was built before me, so indeed he is. There's eight of us, though count Gordon and that makes nine."
Then, though, the hose was disconnected from Scott's boiler by his drive. "Alright, Scott, you're all filled up."
"Ah, right..." Scott did seem to take a somewhat more grimmer demeanor as he shifted topics, "That's what I was here for. I heard that Alfred and Cecil were in a siding in the yard here in Vicarstown. I'm here to take them back to our railway. Could you please go and find them? The faster you do it, the faster your railway will be rid of them."
That was all the encouragement that Thomas needed as he eagerly ran back to fetch the two troublemakers. While he didn't feel it to a huge extent because of the horrific accident they had caused, Thomas was glad that he had the chance to finally properly pay them out for all of their arrogance, snootiness, and sheer carelessness and recklessness. As he did so, Scott blew his loud, high-pitched whistle, presumably to get the attention of Sir Kastrioti, whose office was nearby.
Sure enough, Thomas found the two damaged engines still sitting on those flatbeds, now helpless and miserable like those whose deaths they'd caused likely felt in their last moments. Coupling up to the flatbeds, he then pulled them back towards where Scott was waiting. When he got back, Sir Kastrioti was also waiting there, as well as two other men who were quite important looking.
"Ah, good, you've brought those two here." One of them noted. "All that needs to be done is to put them between Scott and that Coach, and we'll be set in that regard."
"Yes sir..." Though, Thomas looked at the task in question and couldn't help but think about the shunting he'd have to do in order to do that. "This will take a bit of work..." After a few moments, though, he figured out how he'd do it.
First, he uncoupled from the flatbeds and ran around back until he came up to the brake coach from behind. Then, he carefully uncoupled the coach from Scott and ran back around again until he coupled it up behind the flatbeds. And then, he ran back around one more time and coupled the coach and flatbeds to Scott from behind.
Once given the go-ahead, he uncoupled from the newly-formed short train and reversed back...though not too far back, because he wanted to hear what would be said to the two engines.
Sir Kastrioti, as with yesterday, was pleased with Thomas' work. "Thank you, Thomas. We can take the rest from here."
With that, Thomas began reversing away, and so Sir Kastrioti turned his attention back to the two engines that were on the flatbeds. Now, in the morning sun, the damage that Alfred and Cecil had suffered was all but undeniable. Their wheels were either bent or missing, their boilers had holes in them, their cabs were warped and deformed, and their tenders were cracked and badly dented.
It was Sir Raven who first started speaking. "Alfred and Cecil Raven...I built you better than this. When I built the two of you, I intended for the both of you to be some of the finest express engines on the line, but I also intended for the the both of you to be honorable, sane, reasonable engines who respected the sanctity of life, human and engine. To say I am disappointed in the two of you is a gross understatement. That none of any class of locomotives that I have built has had a fatal accident until this point was something I was proud of. Now this pride I previously had has been shattered by who else but the two engines that I'm currently looking at right now."
Alfred and Cecil seemed to know they were in trouble now, and were trying anything to get out of the consequences, even resorting to outright groveling.
"Please sir, we didn't mean for this to happen!" Alfred pleaded. "We'd do anything to make up for this!"
"Indeed, it was an honest mistake!" Cecil pleaded also. "Please, give us a second chance! We'll do anything! Even if it's shunting for the rest of our lives!"
Sir Gresley was blunt in his response to the two. "And what about the hundreds that the two of you have killed and maimed with your foolishness? Do you think they'd have also done anything to prevent you from doing such to them? Do you think they'd accept such a beggar's act from the two of you when you caused this disaster by speeding recklessly when you two knew you shan't have? Do you not realize that your actions haven't left us with a choice?"
Sir Raven sighed, but he then followed up Sir Gresley by speaking words he wished he'd never have had to speak. "Given the severity of the damage you two have sustained...it would have been unfeasible to attempt to repair either of you to working order to begin with, as that simply wouldn't be possible now given the sorry physical shape you both are in. But given how, on top of that, your carelessness caused such a tragedy...the two of you have only cemented our decision." Then, he took a deep breath, and announced his and Gresley's aforementioned decision. "Once we return to the LNER...the two of you are to be broken up at the Darlington Scrapyard. It is the most feasible decision that can be made, given the circumstances."
Alfred and Cecil went completely silent. It seemed to have sank in how inescapable this fate would be. Sir Kastrioti shook his head; yes, they may have brought it upon themselves in his mind with their carelessness, recklessness, and the ending and ruining of many lives thanks to that carelessness and recklessness, but it was never pleasant to see an engine being taken away for scrap...and it likely never would be.
A rather grim Scott seemed to share Sir Kastrioti's thoughts. "If only you two had listened to reason...if only, if only..."
"Indeed." Sir Gresley agreed. "Well, Scott, once the guard's whistle blows, it shall be our return journey to the LNER. Farewell, Sir Kastrioti. I wish for your railway to see better days."
And, with that, Sir Gresley and Sir Raven walked to the coach and boarded it. Sure enough, the guard's whistle blew soon afterwards, followed by his green flag, and with that, blowing his own whistle, Scott set off, pulling the coach, as well as a pair of miserable condemned engines, behind him on a long journey back to the LNER.
Sir Kastrioti sighed at the sight of the departing train. He couldn't help but think about how preventable this all was.
Thomas was conflicted on how he felt. He thought he'd be satisfied to see Alfred and Cecil get what was coming to them, and to some extent, he was. But the way that those big engines went completely quiet when they were told that they'd be "scrapped"...it wouldn't stop burning at him. What did it mean for someone or something to be "scrapped"? He'd heard Edward and Emily mention it before, but he never understood what was so important about the word or what it meant.
When Scott and the two other important men had left with Alfred and Cecil, Thomas steadily rolled forward towards Sir Kastrioti, wanting to know what the word meant. Sir Kastrioti noticed him quickly.
"Yes, Thomas?"
"Sir...what does being 'scrapped' mean?"
Sir Kastrioti looked like he didn't want to give Thomas an answer. "Are you sure you want to know? The answer isn't a pleasant one."
But Thomas' curiosity and that burning feeling about the word led his words. "The big engines went quiet when those men told them about being 'scrapped', and Edward and Emily seemed so afraid of the word whenever it was brought up. What's so important about it?"
Thomas saw Sir Kastrioti rub his forehead, as if the man was quite reluctant to say such. "If you truly want to know what it means...very well then."
And so Thomas was given the bluntest and most unpleasant explanation for anything that he'd ever received at this point in his so-far young life.
The horrible accident would eventually become the deadliest rail disaster in the history of the United Kingdom, with a confirmed death toll of 233, and an unknown number of additional bodies who were never found, and the event made news all over the country and even in other countries around the world. Thankfully for the NWR, once the details of the situation the railway had been in on that day before the disaster happened, and how the railway had treated the disaster seriously and had been as urgent as possible to put together a proper rescue effort, the public was relatively sympathetic to the railway, as the fault was widely regarded to not truly be that of the railway's, but instead to have solely laid in the buffers of the two engines, Alfred and Cecil, thanks to their recklessness and carelessness being the primary reason for the disaster. As a result, compensation for those affected by the disaster in some what instead came from the local government, not from the NWR's now-fragile finances.
Nonetheless, despite this glimmer of hope, it would still indeed be a long year for the railway, as the remainder of 1923, as well as much of 1924, was spent rebuilding the viaduct with the help of that aforementioned new engineer (who, thankfully, had escaped injury during the disaster thanks to being off the bridge when it happened). Gordon and Kirk came to stay on the NWR in the end, though two other engines on the LNER were loaned to the railway until Sir Kastrioti could find replacements for Alfred and Cecil that were less reckless and careless, which he did in the end in the form of two engines from the London, Midland, and Scotland Railway: an ex-L&YR Hughes 4-6-4T "Dreadnought Tank" named Roy, and another Ex-L&YR engine, this time a L&YR Hughes Class 29 named James.
This chapter is, by my own admission...probably the darkest thing that I've ever written as of now. Though I hope it's the good, mature sort of dark, not the stupid, "haha Sodor Fallout/Creepypasta" sort of dark. Then again, it's not exactly like the original show was afraid of venturing into such darker territory at times...only difference here being that, given that this is a fanfic, it doesn't have the limits of being aimed primarily at kids, so I can more or less do what I wish as long as the result is still of quality, right?
So anyways, the accident featured here is more or less a combination of four different 19th Century Rail Disasters, three from the USA and one from the UK. Mainly the Ashtabula River, Ohio Disaster of 1876, though with elements from others like the Great Train Wreck of 1856 in Whitemarsh Township, Pennsylvania, the Great Revere Train Wreck of 1871 in Revere, Massachusetts, and the 1872 Kirtlebridge Rail Crash in Kirtlebridge, Dumfries and Galloway. Basic lesson here is that you don't need to have intentional malice in order for a horrible disaster to happen, just a chain of critical events as well as negligent stupidity.
You might notice that Thomas seems somewhat nicer than usual, given that he's still supposed to be in his cheeky phase. This is somewhat intentional, as the severity of the accident has definitely put a damper on that cheekiness for a time. You might also notice that Sir Kastrioti seems to be quite affectionate towards him, almost father-like. Admittedly, here in this story's background, Thomas was something of a 'teacher's pet' thanks to being the youngest engine on the railway at the time of his arrival and more or less remaining as such until Henry arrived. This will have a hand in what Thomas' personality will become later on, though he's not gonna maintain this status for much longer.
Right...see you all next chapter. I'm surprised that I managed to write this chapter in only eight days. Usually I have a huge problem with writer's block.