HE'S MY BROTHER

Chapter Twelve - Conflicted

Christophe and Surendra kept a very close eye on their engine for the next several days. Because he was a loco, Lammergeier could skate some on his rote behaviours and still work at an acceptable level even when he was miserable and distracted, and there was no denying that he'd suffered an emotional blow. Thankfully, the irritation and hostility he'd been exhibiting before seemed mostly gone. In its place was an air of faintly sullen, subdued introspection, and he continued to say very little as he went through his jobs and largely ignored any people that came anywhere near him. It wasn't ideal, but neither man had the sense anymore that he was about to run off or lose control of himself again, which was an improvement over his previous recent demeanour. And Christophe, he couldn't even look at Christophe anymore. Anytime his driver tried to catch his eye, Lammergeier would look fearfully away and at the ground in a gesture of submission. It bothered Christophe enough that he soon began second-guessing what he'd said to the engine.

"Was I too harsh?" he asked Surendra as they were walking home together one evening. "I know that loco never much liked me, but I never meant for him to be afraid of me. Maybe I shouldn't have threatened him so obviously."

"Better he be afraid enough to think twice about behaving badly again than the alternative," Surendra replied. "He'll get over it."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just…I'd never forgive myself if he went ahead and hurt someone now. We both saw what he was capable of and said nothing."

"I don't believe he'll be dangerous again. You made his options very clear to him. I think his intelligence will let him make the right choices."

"Cripes, I hope so. What a waste otherwise…the things he could tell us! We have to somehow convince him to let us befriend him."

"I agree. We could learn so much from him." Then, just to lighten the mood a little, Surendra added, "He still seems surprised that we didn't send him straight to the smelter's, don't you think?"

"Yes, I noticed. And who could blame him? Can you imagine him pulling the stunt he did back in Nazi Germany and being forgiven? Not bloody likely!"

"I'm hoping that's the sort of thing he'll give some thought to as he sorts himself out. A sharp talking-to and warning versus an immediate date with the scrapper's torch. We've got to come out looking pretty good by comparison."

"Hmm, I think you're right. Maybe he'll even get over being afraid of me."

"Maybe. But not too soon, I hope."

They parted a few minutes later still feeling pretty cheerful again about the whole Lammergeier situation. Just knowing finally what had been driving all the engine's anger and grievances with humankind was a relief. To have it all laid out on the train table, so to speak, and to discover the true scope of Lammergeier's intellect during the telling…it was still a little breathtaking.

The day after their talk, Surendra, Christophe and Lammergeier found themselves making another single flatbed delivery of sundry items to another of the little stations sited on one of the branch lines which serviced the interior of the Island. As stations went, this one was even quainter than most and surprisingly busy. A new major road paralleled the railway tracks for some distance for one thing, which offered plenty of opportunity for transferring goods from one mode of transportation to another. There were also several roads running between the station and a nearby village, for another, and one of them serviced what looked to be a broad groomed commons with a few big tents set up right next to the rails just up the track a ways. There were a bunch of kids playing on the commons at the moment, kicking about some balls, a little early yet for football given that the grass was still mostly brown, but both Christophe and Surendra could understand the appeal of wanting to be out on another lovely spring day. One of the station workers, a local, told the crew that it was an early Easter outing for a couple of classes from a nearby school. Lucky kids, Lammergeier's crew thought.

The station's surroundings were so pretty and the day so nice that Christophe and Surendra decided to take their noon meal while still at the platform, once their flatbed had been taken away and they'd confirmed with the stationmaster that such would be all right and that no further rail traffic was expected on their track for at least an hour. Besides, there was a food stall set up at the station which was emitting the most enticing odours now that lunchtime was nigh and it didn't help that the children on the commons soon all piled into what had to be their own food tent, judging by the smoke curling out of the tent's top ventilation flap and the occasional tantalizing whiffs everyone at the station got of sizzling sausages on the grill. Then, a few commercial lorries pulled into the station's parking lot expressly so their drivers could avail themselves of the food stall's offerings and that put the final stamp of approval on his decision as far as Christophe was concerned. Nobody knew where good food was to be had better than a truck driver…or in this case, a lorry driver.

Surendra and then Christophe both took their turns buying a nice hot packet of fish and chips at the food stall and then strolling about while they scarfed up their food. The station was sited right at the base of the westward facing side of the closest thing Sodor had to a mountain range, albeit a range that had long ago been weathered and ground down into moderate hills. The air was clear enough on this day that one could look out over the valley and see the terrain rise up again to form the heights that supported Ulfstead Castle some eight or so miles away. When it was Christophe's turn to eat lunch, he spent some time at first just standing and gazing over at Ulfstead off in the distance and thinking that Sodor really was the perfect size for an island nation. Big enough to offer a lifetime's worth of exploration, yet still small enough to be accessible and make one feel part of the community. Christophe liked the way Sodor made him feel. He'd thought he'd be a little homesick for Canada when he'd first arrived, but instead he'd felt like he was just trading one home for another.

Christophe sidled into position to discreetly observe Lammergeier for a while once he started in on his second piece of delicious battered fish. The engine was staring off into the distance, watching traffic on the main road next to the tracks, paying no attention whatsoever to the folks that occasionally walked past his front end. Still not ideal, but it was better than him glaring at people. He joined Lammergeier in watching a huge lorry towing a bed loaded with what looked like roof joists and other long timbers maneuver its way through a T intersection set down by the commons and start its laborious crawl up a new road laid onto the hillside. Christophe remembered reading about a luxurious new hotel, a resort really, being built close to and above the station, high enough up to offer a spectacular view. The lumber had to be intended for the build site, he thought, and was a little sorry that there were too many big trees up by the new road and in the way to be able to see anything yet of the hotel-to-be.

The little engineer ate his last few chips while briefly chatting with some of the visiting lorry drivers who were also enjoying their lunch break. They confirmed his suspicions about the lumber delivery and that it was going to be a wonderful resort indeed once finished, one catering to tourists who wanted to spend a week or two on Sodor and enjoy its historical sites and outdoor offerings. There was already talk of making up numerous sorts of tours, one being something called a rails and trails package. Christophe grinned broadly as soon as he heard that. He wondered if that would mean simply issuing short-term rail passes good for travel on any North Western loco or if something more exclusive mightn't be involved. Either way, it was always great to hear that the tourism business on the Island was expanding and he was quite proud to have had a very small hand in its success.

Surendra already had Lammergeier back up to full steam when Christophe finally climbed aboard again, which he was glad to see. They had some grades to climb and a fair distance to go to get to their next job and Christophe was in a mood to let the engine stretch out a bit. It might even lift the 48's spirits a little. He didn't like to see any locomotive looking sad for long, even though he knew his own words were the cause for this one's depression.

"Oh boy, you'll never guess what I just heard," he began to say to Surendra.

Lammergeier suddenly bolted again.

It was far worse than the first time. Neither man aboard had sensed anything at all concerning all morning and even the station workers were caught by complete surprise; they could hear the guard whistling vainly in their wake, unaware that the engine was the one calling the shots. Christophe's hands flew to the controls, but with a sense of futility and doom already in place. And there were witnesses. There'd be no covering up or explaining away Lammergeier's disobedience and dangerous behaviour this time.

The controls were locked, impossible to move. He was speeding up even faster than before. Christophe, horrified and in disbelief over the engine's insane action, pounded his fists on the cab wall in front of him.

"Lammergeier, please! Don't do this! You're killing yourself!"

"GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT OF MY CAB!" Lammergeier screamed back.

Christophe froze. But that wasn't rage, it was fear he heard in that disembodied voice! Then Surendra snatched at his forearm.

"The lorry! The lorry!" he shouted, pointing towards the right-hand cab window with his other hand.

The same enormous truck from before, still pulling its load of lumber, was rocketing straight back down the long sloped road on the hillside. It was impossible to see whether a driver was inside, all they could tell was that the vehicle was careening out of control and gaining momentum by the second.

"Jump, Surendra!" Christophe cried, clutching his fireman in turn, pulling him toward the opposite cab door. The two men bailed, one after the other, leaping out over the banked side of the tracks. The short slope was heavily covered with gorse and heather which had been planted to provide erosion control and which now provided welcome cushioning that caught and slowed the men's tumbling falls. Both managed to pop up out of the bushes, shaken and bruised but otherwise unhurt, as soon as they'd come to rest, in time to watch their engine charge on by himself, his intent now clear. The squeal of screeching emergency braking split the air. For a few heart-stopping seconds, it appeared that Lammergeier might have miscalculated his speed and was going to overshoot, but then the flatbed truck came hurtling through the intersection and smashed straight into the locomotive's tender.

Another almighty screech of shearing metal assaulted the men's ears. The lorry and its load wrapped themselves about the end of the toppling tender, wood spilling everywhere, the whole sliding down the bank and becoming entangled in the fence enclosing the commons. Lammergeier went straight over onto his side, pulled down in turn. A tremendous cloud of steam burst forth, enveloping him and hissing furiously.

The last addition to the terrible symphony of destruction was the screaming of children, children who poured out of the lunch tent and who started screaming not with pain or fright, but simply out of sheer excitement at being able to get so up close and personal to such an awesome accident.

to be continued...