So...I know what you're thinking; why did you write this?

1: I wanted to.

2: I was particularly unimpressed by the only other fic with the premise of a tornado hitting Sodor. That one was...well, it's clear the guy who wrote it acquired most of his knowledge of "tornadoes" from Twister. I wanted to a fic of such a premise but with a more realistic tornado (granted, key word "more realistic", since it's not gonna be 100%, but oh well).

Regardless, enjoy...if you can


October 31, 1988, Main Line, Tidmouth Sheds

Being a dual UK-US citizen who was originally born in the city of Fort Worth in Texas and lived there for the first 10 years of his life, 21-year-old Maurice Sartaq Jagielloński-Giray had come to have a love-hate relationship with Sudrian weather. Loved the fact that it wasn't BLAZING HOT in the summer (something around ~75°F/24°C was the highest it got most of the time) and considered it an improvement from where he used to live, but then hated that, in the other seasons, it was often often raining/storming. No wonder the United Kingdom of Great Britain (which Sodor was a part of, being west of Cumbria on the mainland) was reputed for its "British Weather" by those who lived in and out of the country. And today it was going to be living up to that reputation, given what the weather guy on the news station said about the weather. An extratropical cyclone was coming, and it was looking to be a bad one, given that it had absorbed the remains of an Atlantic Hurricane. While it was going to probably only hit the northern tip of Scotland directly, damaging winds and torrential rain were still in the running, as one of the "arms" of the system was still going to manifest as a line of storms going over areas further to the south of that (Sodor included).

Bad enough on its own, but it was even worse given that he was an engine driver on the island's railway, the Northwestern Railway, and all that stormy weather, with all the hazards it would bring, would make doing his job supremely irritating. Oh joy.

Now then, it wasn't like all was lost here. The pay was...quite good, and he was also blessed with the privilege of working with perhaps the railway's most notable and recognizable engine: the blue 0-6-4 #1 tank engine whose name was Thomas. Thomas was...well, being able to work with him definitely made up for the job's shortcomings, with his amiable and chipper but cheeky and mischievous personality ensuring that things were hardly boring or tedious with him, and overall, working with an engine like him made the job more than bearable. But anyways...

When the day's schedule came, it was pretty normal for a Wednesday. Take some children to School along Thomas' Branch Line, then go to Ffarquhar to 'assemble the lines' (Maurice's term for the task of shunting rolling stock around and organizing them into their places), then take some trucks full of slate from Anopha Quarry to Knapford, And then some other stuff involving delivering stuff, passenger runs, shunting...you get the idea. Work didn't necessarily stop because of bad weather, unfortunately.

5:31 AM, Tidmouth Sheds

When he got to his engine at the sheds, Maurice came to get to Thomas and was greeted by his fireman, Ilyas Iskander Burji, or "Izzy", as he was commonly referred to. Now 27 years old, he was steadfast and pretty diligent, and synergized well with Maurice when it came to working on and with Thomas, though he sometimes drove Maurice and Thomas up the wall with the occasional lack of regard for his own safety.

"So, are you doing well this morning?" Izzy inquired.

"Yeah, guess so..." Maurice answered Izzy's question. "Today's gonna be darn rough with the storms and such. They said the thing's gonna hit this afternoon."

"I heard so as well." Izzy was in agreement, having heard from some of his co-workers.

As for the engines, they were also discussing the weather, having heard from their drivers.

"Driver says the storm will come today." An engine named Norton noted what his driver had told him. "Be careful, everyone."

"Always the careful one, Norton." James dryly noted. "But I'm aware. Don't want to get my paint messed up by some falling tree, after all."

Typical James. Always valuing his paint work. Though he at least was also taking the storm seriously at the same time, even if it was in his own way.

So, Maurice and Izzy worked to get Thomas ready. As they did, the engines continued discussing the weather, before their tasks for the day also got mixed into the conversation. Eventually, once Thomas was ready, he bid good luck to the other engines before Maurice and Izzy left with him for their first tasks of the day.


8:02 AM, Thomas' Branch Line, Ffarquhar area.

"There's somethin' off about today. I don't know what it is, but I just feel like somethin' bad is going to happen..."

Maurice couldn't help but think such a phrase as he and Thomas were well underway with taking children to school at various locations along Thomas' branch line. They were making good time and things were running smoothly, but that didn't push such a feeling away. Maybe because he felt that things were going too well? Or maybe because it was warm and muggy, especially compared to how it usually was?

As far as he was concerned, at this time of day, the temperature was usually ~50°F (or ~10°C), which, while not COLD, was definitely on the "cool" portion of the cold-cool-warm-hot scale, and given that Sodor was an island in the Irish Sea, it was usually somewhat humid. Today, though, it was already ~68°F (or ~20°C), and was particularly humid. This didn't go unnoticed by him, and he could easily feel the difference. "Joe DID have a tad bit of trouble startin' Thomas' fire today..."

So, out on a whim, he decided to ask Thomas about it. "So, uh, Thomas...question?"

"What is it?"

"Given that you've lived here for far longer than I've been alive...does it feel warmer and wetter than usual today, given the time of day and year?"

"Hmm...now that I think about it, it does feel warmer and wetter than normal..." Thomas answered. "It's odd, especially when there is supposed to be a big storm later today..."

"Okay, so it ain't just me who's thinkin' that last bit." Maurice replied. Thomas' response was slightly reassuring, as he at least knew that he wasn't going crazy, and wasn't the only one feeling how odd the weather was. "There's a reason why it's got me worried."

"Why is that?" Izzy asked.

"Well, I'm from the Fort Worth area of Texas, and it's not exactly uncommon for it to be hotter and muggier than usual before a storm comes. If it happens, then that means the storm is likely to be bad, 'cause it's gotta lot more energy to feed off of. If it keeps gettin' warmer and muggier like this..."

"...then we'll have an even worse time than before." Thomas put two and two together. "If that's the case, then I hope it doesn't get any hotter and muggier than it is."


12:03 PM, Thomas' Branch Line, Ffarquhar Yards.

Thomas' hopes were dashed. A little over four hours later, and it was now that the temperature was approaching ~80°F (or ~27°C), and still climbing. Right now, he and his crew were trying to distract themselves with work. Currently, the task at hand was moving around some rolling stock and organizing them into place. It wasn't exactly the most exciting job, and in part thanks to that, it certainly wasn't one hundred percent distracting them from the situation with the weather.

"Bother." Thomas sighed. "I thought this was supposed to be Halloween. It feels like the the hottest part of summer instead."

"I know...feels more like I'm in Texas instead." Maurice agreed. "But Texas in the southern part of the United States...and Sodor is in the northern half of the British Isles...and it's almost never this muggy..."

"Indeed...something feels off." Izzy noted, with a tinge of worry in his voice. Izzy was, despite his rather childish sounding nickname, always the stoic between him and Maurice. For him to sound worried like this just drove things home.


1:04 PM, Thomas' Branch Line, Ffarquhar.

Another hour or so later, and it was now at a level of heat even higher, and at a level Maurice had never experienced living on Sodor, let alone in this time of year. 30°C (or 86°F) was the temperature being displayed at a local dial thermometer the patio of a building near where he, Thomas, and Izzy were resting in a siding, and it was muggy as ever.

"Ugh, this weather is absolutely insane." Maurice muttered. "I'd almost be sayin' that I was in Louisiana or somethin' if it wasn't THIS muggy. For it to feel like this in Sodor during THIS time of the year is just nuts."

"It is." Thomas agreed. "I've been on this island for more than 70 years, and it's never been THIS hot at this time of year..."

Before either could say anything further, a manager came.

"Excuse me, Thomas, but are you and your crew doing anything at the moment?" The manager asked.

"Huh? Uh, no, sir." Thomas replied. "My crew and I were just discussing the weather, at most. Am I needed for something?"

"Yes. Sir Kastrioti sent for you. Montague Collett has broken down from collapsed firebars, and there are no other engines available to take him to the works, so Sir Kastrioti wants you to take him there."

"Duck's in trouble?" Maurice raised a surprised eyebrow at this, given that Duck wasn't exactly known for mechanical problems. "Alright, we're on it. Where is he?"

"He broke down shortly after leaving Arlesburgh West's Station."

"Got it. We'll be there as fast as we can."

And so, Thomas and his crew set off to find Duck on the Little Western.


1:39 PM, Little Western, Arlesburgh West

"Oh...this won't do." Duck sighed at his current predicament. His firebars had collapsed not long after he'd left the station, and he was feeling rather embarrassed. His auto-coaches, Alice and Mirabel, had been taken to their intended destination by Oliver, who was sympathetic to his situation, but even then, it was a definite day-ruiner. To make things more tedious, it was taking a rather long time for an engine to arrive to take him to the works. While there was the aforementioned Oliver, as well as Donald and Douglas and Darien, they were all very busy with their current tasks, so they couldn't take him there.

At last, though, a shrill whistle sounded, and Duck saw a certain #1 tank engine coated in blue come to him. Duck was a little surprised, but was grateful for the help.

"Ah-erm...Thomas! I, um...it's a surprise seeing you all the way up here in Arlesburgh West!"

"Can't blame you for that." Thomas acknowledged. "Buuuuutttt there weren't any other engines available for taking you to Crovan's Gate for repair, so I guess I'm taking you to the works instead. I heard your firebox hates you today!"

"It does, unfortunately. And you're cheeky as ever, Thomas."

"Wouldn't be me otherwise, right?" Thomas grinned. "Though, in all seriousness, collapsed firebars IS something that can happen to any steam engine. It's happened to me before!"

"Right that is."

So Thomas got buffered up to Duck's front, and he and Maurice then set off pulling the pannier tank engine all the way to Crovan's Gate.

"Crovan's Gate's about 70 miles down the line." Maurice noted. "Ya sure ya won't get all tuckered out on the way there, Thomas?"

"I certainly won't." Thomas replied, grinning. "I've gone longer distances in one go than this before. You sure that YOU won't pass out on the way there, Maurice?"

"Heck no I won't." Maurice replied back, amused. "I've been on longer car-trips than that before I even CAME to Sodor. Besides, day's not even over!"

Maurice was glad that all this banter was helping him focus on something other than the coming storm. Though, of course, the worry was still there.


1:45 PM, Little Western, 5 miles outside of Arlesburgh West

As Maurice, Thomas, and Duck were going down the Little Western, Maurice happened upon a rather peculiar sight. There was an old double-decker bus with what looked to be chickens running in and out of it.

"Huh...that's an odd way to use that there bus." Maurice noted. "Anyone know how that thing got there?"

"Oh, that bus?" Duck responded. "I know of him. His name's Bulgy. He was a bus whose route ran alongside our branch line, just how a bus named Bertie has a route that runs alongside your engine's branch line. Unlike Bertie, though, Bulgy was a troublemaker who very much didn't like railways, and liked to tell whoppers to those at the stations to get them to board him instead. It came back to bite him in the rear bumper one day around 20 years ago when he told a whopper about how he knew a shortcut that made his bus route a faster trip than our passenger trains. Well, his 'shortcut' was a bridge that was just a little bit too low for him to pass under, and he got stuck, so I had to go rescue his passengers. His owners kept him for a few more months, but after he caused more trouble, they eventually had enough, so they sold him to the farmer who owns those chickens, and now he's a hen house."

"Heh...tellin' them there 'whoppers' certainly didn't do him well, did it?" Maurice remarked upon hearing the story.

"It certainly didn't." Duck chuckled. "Regardless, he has a replacement named 'Algy', who is much more honest and friendly, and who hasn't ever caused us any trouble."

While they talked, however, the ingredients for what was to be a terrible weather day were gathering in the skies to the south.


2:25 PM, Main Line, Between Maron and Cronk

Now, Thomas, Maurice, and Duck were roughly a little over halfway to Crovan's Gate, heading through the Ab River valley on their way. As they went along, Maurice began to think more about the current weather, and about some of what he learned about hot, muggy days before storms.

"This is bad." Maurice thought. "If we were still in America, I'd say that today would probably be perfect conditions for tornadoes. I mean, given the geography and latitude of the island and the land and sea surrounding it...we PROBABLY won't get 'em HERE...though there were the tornadoes in Malta and Sicily, so it's not impossible. What I'm worried about more right now is damaging winds and rain."

Unknown to him at the time, he was speaking of the devil, as a squall line began to form south of the island, and one of the storms in that squall line gradually become more and more isolated.