WHAT A TANGLED WEB WE WEED
Based upon "Dunkin' Duncan" by Simon Nicholson and Jenny McDade and "Speedkiller" by Christopher Awdry
Adapted by Zack Wanzer and Rachel Ravens
Over on the Skarloey Railway, the little engines were bringing holidaymakers along their line, taking them up to Skarloey station and then back down again to Crovan's Gate. The eight little engines seemed to be doing fine for the most part, but on one of these runs, there was a problem…
Duncan was bringing holidaymakers up to the lake as usual; Gertrude and Millicent in tow.
"Ugh, it's so hot today!" grunted the yellow well tank. "Ah just hope that's the least of our issues…"
"That's not the worst complaint I've heard from you," sighed Gertrude.
"Better be thankful that Duncan's in a decent mood," Millicent replied. "I'm just glad the passengers aren't paying attention."
Meanwhile, Rusty and Flyer were with some gangers further up the line; the orange diesel had a line of trucks behind him.
"Do you think this greenery could be used for anything?" asked Flyer.
"I don't know, Flyer," Rusty shrugged. "Weeds are a pest to the garden, so my driver says."
"They seem pretty harmless to me," said Flyer. "What's the worst that could happen?"
But they had spoken too soon, as Duncan was just coming up.
"Duncan, watch out!" called Rusty. "The gangers haven't…"
"Ouch!"
"…cut those weeds yet…"
Duncan had come to a bumpy stop and his crew came down to inspect their engine.
"There's weeds tangled up in your wheels," sighed the driver.
"They seem harmless, huh?" Rusty muttered, glancing at the inspection trolley.
"Ah don't believe this!" grumbled Duncan. "What started out so well has now gone south!"
"Sorry about this, Duncan," said Flyer. "We'll get you to the Steamworks in no time."
Eventually, Duncan was freed from the weeds, but his train had been delayed, much to the passengers' annoyance.
"Delayed because of weeds?!" snapped one particularly grumpy passenger. "What is going on with this railway these days?"
"We're doing the best we can to keep the trains running," assured Duncan's guard.
"I only hope things improve with efficiency…" grunted the passenger.
That evening, the engines gathered around to talk about the incident.
"I swear, we may need better ballast around here," grunted Sir Handel. "As in, the kind where weeds won't sprout out of it."
"Goodness knows where that can be found," sighed Peter Sam.
"While that would be nice," said Rusty, "it is taking up a lot of my and Flyer's time with the workmen to remove the weeds."
"I think, if we can't get weedkiller ballast," said Flyer, "what we need is help."
"Funny you should mention that, Flyer," said Mr. Percival as he and Mr. Hugh walked over to the engines.
"Evening, sir, and Mr. Hugh," said Skarloey in surprise. "What brings you two here this late?"
"We've started constructing another engine," said Mr. Hugh. "He, she or they will be a new diesel and numbered nine."
"Oh wow!" gasped Rheneas. "It's been a while since we've had a new engine arrive here."
"Please make the new engine feel at home when they're ready," said Mr. Percival. The eight engines all promised they would.
It took some time, but one day, an unfamiliar horn sounded from Crovan's Gate works. The source of the noise was a little turquoise diesel with four wheels, red side rods and, most unusually, no cab. Rusty was the first engine to greet the newcomer.
"Hello there," he greeted. "I'm Rusty."
The new diesel looked over curiously. "Fitting name, given your orange paint."
"Oh," chuckled Rusty. "No, I was actually named Rusty because of the fact I was built at Ruston and Hornsby. The orange paint was just a choice after the fact. What's your name?"
"Frederica," the new diesel replied. "But I much prefer Fred instead."
"I can understand that," laughed Flyer as they drew up. "My full name is Flying Bedstead, but that's way too much of a mouthful."
Fred laughed. "That's a good point. So, what do you two do around here?"
"Maintenance work, mostly," said Rusty. "I imagine you'll be helping us there too."
"Okay then," smiled Fred. "Where do we start?"
Rusty and Fred went ahead to get some trucks and a coach for the workmen, starting at opposite ends of the line to remove any weeds that were growing.
"How do these things cause trouble for the engines?" asked Fred as the workmen were cutting away at them.
"Oh, you'd be surprised, Fred," said one of the workmen. "They can be more trouble than they're worth."
Fred started moving up a little bit at a time to help remove the weeds. It had been fine at first, but she eventually heard a very cheerful whistle from Peter Sam as he came trundling by with Ada, Jane, Mabel and Cora; the open coaches were loaded with passengers.
"Oh, what a lovely ride, Peter Sam," commented one of the passengers.
"Always my pleasure," smiled the green saddle tank. "Oh, good morning, Fred!" he called to the new diesel. She tooted her horn in return, but to her disappointment, the passengers didn't seem to notice her.
"My first day and the passengers treat me as if I'm nothing?" Fred grunted. "How could they not pay attention to me? I'm turquoise, for goodness sake!"
"Lighten up, old girl," said her driver. "It's work ethic that matters most on a railway."
"I'm only one day old…" muttered Fred.
Unfortunately for all parties involved, Fred's thirst for appreciation seemed to get worse as the days went by, and the weeds were actively getting worse on top of that.
"I hope Fred's okay," said Sir Handel to Gertrude and Millicent. "Barely a week old, and she's already acting grumpy."
"I do hope she mellows out sooner or later," said Gertrude.
"She is still very young," reminded Millicent. "Remember when Skarloey talked about how he was proud and cocky in his early years?"
"He told that story first hand, and I still have a bit of a hard time wrapping my smokebox… ouch!" cried Sir Handel.
"Sir Handel!" cried Flyer. "Are you alright?"
"No…" the blue saddle tank groaned. "Argh, these weeds have jammed up my valve gear!"
"It will take ages to clear that!" grunted Fred. "As if we didn't have enough to do!"
Mr. Percival and Mr. Hugh were also frustrated at the fact that weeds were continuing to interfere with the engines' work.
"The incident today wasn't your fault, Sir Handel," assured Mr. Percival. "We just need to figure out a way to get rid of these weeds before anything else happens."
"We'll need to find a way to spread weedkiller," agreed Mr. Hugh.
"It would be impractical to use small bottles of it," joked Flyer. "Our line would need a massive tanker or something."
"You know, Flyer," said Mr. Percival, "I think that's exactly what we need on the railway; a weedkiller tanker!"
"Oh, well done, Flyer," smiled Rusty. "That'll get us out of a tricky situation."
Soon, the Skarloey Railway managed to invest in a weedkiller tanker. It was painted in a bright yellow with a red symbol on each side, and it rested on a flat truck with a pipe hanging across the line behind its rear buffers.
"One-hundred twenty gallons of weedkiller this thing'll dispense," said Mr. Hugh proudly. "Not all at once, of course, but the engine pulling this will have to go slowly so it'll spread properly."
"Who should we assign to it?" asked Mr. Percival.
Mr. Hugh pondered for a moment. "Hmm… I'm thinking maybe… Fred should do it. She does have a very low top speed."
Fred was not happy at all when she received this bit of news.
"Me?!" she cried indignantly. "Why do I have to pull that slow thing?"
"Because we assigned you to it," said Mr. Percival firmly. "You have to take it to stop the weeds from spreading."
To say that Fred loathed her new task would be putting it mildly; first she felt unappreciated by the passengers, and now was tasked with, in her own words, the most "boring task in the world".
"At least the old way was less tedious than this…" she grunted.
"This way is a more permanent solution," argued the driver. "No more weeds will grow from the tracks."
But Fred wouldn't let up at all. As it turned out, she wasn't the only engine complaining on this day.
"Ah'm a plain speakin' engine, and Ah don't want any nonsense from ye trucks!" Duncan snapped.
"It's always a laugh when he gets rallied up!" cried the first truck.
"Quit it!" growled Duncan, bumping the trucks. "Ugh, Ah cannae believe Ah arrived on the line right after the incline restriction was put in place."
"It's still better than having a repeat of Peter Sam's accident," said Rheneas sensibly. "Four trucks at a time works better than having countless trucks at once."
"There's one thing I don't get," said Flyer, who was inspecting the track by the incline. "How did the trucks mistake Peter Sam, painted green, for Sir Handel, painted blue?"
"Sir Handel thinks that's very strange indeed," sighed Skarloey, "and the rest of us still haven't figured that out."
Duncan rolled his eyes, and after shunting the last four trucks onto his train, he started away down the line.
"I swear to the Great Railway, those trucks are going to get Duncan back…" muttered Rusty.
Duncan was hurrying down the line with his trucks in tow. The weather was hot, and he was eager to find some shade that he could rest under.
"The sooner Ah'm under some trees or somethin', the better," grunted Duncan. The yellow engine was passing by Fred and the weedkiller tanker, who had been shunted onto a siding in order to let him pass.
"Nipped those weeds in the bud, did ye?" asked Duncan to Fred. The turquoise diesel didn't answer, for she was still brooding and sulking.
"Hmph," grunted Duncan. "And Ah thought Ah was the sulky one…"
The yellow well tank continued on his way, and then got close to the hill.
"We'll need a good run at it, driver!" he called.
"Steady on, boy," soothed his driver as he opened the regulator wider. The trucks began giggling to each other and began to slip their brakes on.
"Oh, come on!" groaned Duncan. "This had ta happen now!"
Much to his surprise, Duncan's wheels began to spin and slip.
"Hold back! Hold back!" the trucks giggled.
"Stupid trucks," Duncan grunted. "Ugh!"
"It's not just the trucks," commented the driver. "Oh! I think the new weedkiller is contributing to this too." Thinking quickly, the driver activated Duncan's sandboxes.
"Thank ye, driver," sighed Duncan. "Ah think Ah'll get a grip now."
Duncan was able to grip the rails no problem, but he'd reckoned without the downhill slope…
"On, on, on!" cried the trucks.
"Whoa!" cried Duncan in alarm. "Help!" Quickly, the driver applied his brakes, but Duncan had already used up most of his sand for the uphill climb, and now he was speeding out of control, his whistle blowing with fright.
Duncan's frantic whistling attracted a nearby signaller's attention, and she quickly set the points to a runaway siding. Unfortunately, this runaway siding hadn't been used for a long time, and some of the storms the island had resulted in…
SPLASH!
"Glub-glub-glub!" shuddered Duncan. "Bluggle my boiler!" He was up to his mouth in a muddy swamp.
Later, Rheneas came along with the breakdown train.
"Sounds like that new tanker we got may be a weedkiller, but it's certainly not a speedkiller," he joked. Duncan couldn't answer; if he did, his response would've been muffled by swampy water. But judging by the way he furrowed his eyebrows, he was less than amused.
When word got back to Fred about what had happened that evening, her eyes widened in shock.
"Great Railway above!" she cried. "Oh, Duncan, are you okay?!"
"Ah landed smokebox first inta a swamp an' now mah paintwork's dirty, but other than that, Ah'm feelin' peachy!" the yellow well tank retorted crossly.
"Okay, I wouldn't have guessed it to be pleasant, good grief…" muttered Fred. "Look, about the whole thing back there… I'm sorry I didn't warn you about the weedkiller on the hill. If I had told you, maybe you would have taken the hill more carefully."
Duncan sighed. "Ye know… that was partly mah own fault as well. Ah was just grumpy about the trucks causin' me grief and it being so hot."
"I guess I've got a lot to learn too," sighed Fred.
"You're just fresh out of the workshops," assured Duke. "It takes time to gain the experience the rest of us tend to take for granted."
"I guess so," the turquoise diesel said quietly. "I think we should turn in for the night. I've had a trying day."
The other engines had to agree. Through the ordeal, however, two good things managed to come out of it. One, they wouldn't have to deal with those pesky weeds for the course of a whole year. And two, there was now a new friend among their ranks. However, there was more to their new turquoise diesel companion than what met the eye… but that will have to wait for another day.
THE END
Author's Notes
The latest episode of Series 6-7 Redux is now finally upon us! While the previous three episodes generally followed most of their original plot beats, this one's a much looser adaptation of both Dunkin' Duncan and Speedkiller, although it may as well be an original story instead. Mainly, this story serves as an introduction to Fred the narrow gauge diesel, whom has been gender-flipped and her full name Frederica. Although I'd not seen the play by the time I came up with the idea, it was inspired from Princess Winifred of Once Upon a Mattress, whom preferred to go by "Fred", meaning that it can be technically a girl's name. Much like her Railway Series counterpart, Fred was constructed from two worn-out NCB diesels, which I think will one day factor into who she is. The reason it's not stated in-universe (yet) is because it would likely have been in bad taste given Sir Handel and Peter Sam's dark past.
Upcoming stories:
- Twin Trouble
- The Fogman
- Jack Jumps In
- A Friend in Need
- Gordon and Spencer
