HE'S MY BROTHER

Chapter Thirteen - Iron Heart

The day after the accident, Sir Topham Hatt drove out to the accident site again with Christophe and Surendra riding along as passengers in his blue sedan. Both crewmen were wearing civilian clothes and were on open-ended medical leave, and exited the auto quite stiffly, although both were at least moving without assistance. The first thing all three men did was walk over onto the commons and position themselves between the food tent and the remnants of the truck and Lammergeier's crushed tender. The road intersection lay right behind the mangled wreckage and beyond that, rising upward, stretched the road on the hillside. It all aligned perfectly.

"Good God," murmured Christophe.

He spoke for all three of them. It was all too easy to visualize what could have been: the runaway lorry flying through the intersection and smashing into the tent, the little bodies flung and torn like ragdolls, the spilling fuel igniting and the final horror of the incinerating fireball…dreadful. The police chief came out of the tent his people were using as their temporary mustering point and joined his visitors for a moment in somber contemplation.

After that, the chief shook hands all around and thanked the trio for returning so quickly. "I would've been fine with you two waiting a few more days to talk to me," he said to Christophe and Surendra. "You sure you're all right?"

"Just bruises and strains," Christophe assured him, "and at my age, it's better to keep moving a bit or I'll stiffen up completely. The bad day'll be tomorrow, anyway."

"Well, okay then," said the police chief, "but we've pretty much finished the investigation already. A no-fault pure accident as far as we can tell. The company'll be by later this afternoon to start salvaging what lumber they can and I think they've got a couple of your engines slated to come in with a crane to start clearing away the wreckage around the same time." He addressed this last to Sir Topham Hatt, who nodded his head in agreement. "After that, just some fence and the bank to repair and the tent can come down."

"How are the two drivers this morning?" the Fat Controller asked.

"Oh, that's the good news! The one with the broken wrist they released already and the other fellow who got dragged and run over looks like he might keep his leg after all. Poor beggars… The worst of it, I think, is that they had the chocks in hand and were getting ready to block the wheels when the brakes blew. They did their best after that to get back aboard and at least turn the lorry aside and off the road, but…happened too fast. A couple of the other workmen up there saw it all and can attest to that."

"Thank goodness. I'm sorry we had any injuries at all, but it could have been so much worse," said Sir Topham. "If it hadn't been for Lambchop…"

"Yes, how is that engine? He looked like he was in shock when they hauled him out of here yesterday."

"He was," said Christophe. "He took a terrible blow, even though his tender absorbed the worst of it. And then going over almost upside-down like that…"

The police chief eyed the two crewmen with sympathy. "And you still maintain he took off entirely on his own. The engine."

"He did," Surendra said. "He saw what was going to happen and he knew he couldn't delay, not even for a second. He never would have intercepted that truck in time had he waited and said something to us first. I never saw what was going on myself until he yelled at us to get out of his cab. Ditto Mister Pelletier. Lammergeier warned both of us, but only once he was already underway."

"Hmm… And is that usual for engines? To have that sort of initiative?"

"No. No it is not," Sir Topham himself replied. "Some of them do. Many do not. But then, I always knew that engine was different and special. He's one of the rare ones who's obviously able to assess a threat and react accordingly without having to rely on human guidance."

"Well, the engine's a hero then," said the police chief. "I've already interviewed pretty much everyone else who was at the station yesterday just prior to the accident and not a single person saw anything amiss until it was far too late. Your engine's the only one who saw anything at all and you say he chose to risk himself to intervene and prevent a worse tragedy all on his own. He's just very, very lucky that he wasn't destroyed, if you ask me. I hope you can fix him okay. He deserves everything you can do for him."

"I agree. And that's where we're going next, up to the steamworks to see him." said Sir Topham.

"Wish him well for me then. I confess I've been annoyed by the odd steamer for blasting off his whistle at inopportune times and even waking me up. But this one, Lambchop, he can whistle away next to my house all night long for the next year for what he did here yesterday."

The police chief's sentiments were already being echoed up and down the Island that morning, thanks to the local news media. Lambchop was indeed a hero. But a strange hero, who seemed singularly upset with what he'd done once he'd regained his senses and understood the extent of the damage he'd suffered. For one thing, his tender, his beautiful, original, authentic tender, was gone. It had sheared away during the act of pulling him over and had been smashed well beyond repair. His tender coupling was gone too, ripped completely away, and he would need some work done there. Yet aside from that one major issue, he'd come away from his sacrifice with remarkably little serious injury and he had the soft bank he'd fallen onto and slid down to thank for it. He sat in his repair bay up at the Sodor Steamworks looking sad and dejected as the chief engineer Mister Baker and a hoard of fitters looked him over and made their assessments, even though the prognosis was really rather good.

He perked up some for Sir Topham Hatt's visit, however, and even smiled for him as his owner expressed his relief that he hadn't been irreparably hurt and gravely thanked him for his selfless act of valour. Only Christophe and Surendra, who stood back a little to allow the two to have their moment, could see that Lammergeier was really neither pleased nor proud of himself. They thought that beneath his usual subterfuge the engine was in truth bewildered…bewildered and dismayed.

His crew was right. Lammergeier was putting on a good show, but the instant he found himself alone, a haunted look would creep across his face as he began endlessly replaying the accident in his mind as he'd once replayed the fight he'd had with his brother. Each time the loop replayed he would ask himself the same question: Why had he done it? Why had he risked his own life for the sake of a bunch of bloody humans he didn't even know? And each time the same answer was there waiting for him: He'd done it because it was in his nature to act so. No matter what he thought of them, he'd never be free of his innate urges to want to serve his human masters and protect them. Because he was an engine, and that was what engines did—they served. The growing realization that all his intellect would never be enough to overcome what he was at heart, coming so soon on top of his attempted bolt and emotional breakdown, only escalated all his ill-hidden distress.

The people at the steamworks could tell he was unhappy, but thought it was because he was unable to work; they remembered how anxious he'd been to return to the rails when he'd first arrived on Sodor. Christophe suggested to Mister Baker that they solicit Lammergeier's old Controller, Mister Moderhack, for assistance in locating a suitable replacement tender for the engine as quickly as possible, and Mister Baker thought that was a splendid suggestion indeed and followed through. Mister Moderhack, once contacted, was not only eager to help, but immediately demonstrated why he'd been considered such an efficient Controller by rustling up not just one, but three tub tenders in excellent condition by the end of the following day, and the seller was open to a package deal. Sir Topham Hatt went for it and bought all three tenders. Not only would his Lambchop soon be back in action, but both 48s would then have a replacement tender always at hand just in case, which Sir Topham believed just made good business sense for a pair of valuable tourist engines.

In the meantime, while his new tender was en route, Lammergeier's abused innards were tenderly cleaned and inspected, his minor external repairs were seen to, and his new tender coupling was installed. He was ready to roll again, although he wouldn't roll far with no stores of water and coal on hand, and the other engines in his roundhouse all volunteered to fetch him back to the sheds where he'd at least have familiar company while he waited. But Lammergeier didn't want to go back to his roundhouse. He wanted to stay up at the steamworks. His refusal to return home so confused his shed-mates that Christophe finally stepped in to address the engines at large and he explained to them in simple terms that Lammergeier's accident had brought up some past issues and memories and that he'd need some alone-time for a while longer in order to deal with them. This, they could understand, and their confusion and faint feelings of guilt lessened. Only Adler remained in a stressed-out state, suffering along with his brother. He still wasn't exactly sure what it was that was plaguing Lammergeier, but had faith that the humans knew and would do their best to help him.

Lammergeier spent his days after that parked outside in front of the repair bay furthest from the offices of the steamworks where he could brood and think his troubled thoughts in peace. Victor would pull him inside just before he finished up at night and shunt him back out the next morning, otherwise he had very little contact with anyone, nor did he invite contact. He was content just to sit and watch…watch the odd engine come in for maintenance or small repairs, watch when Adler ferried their spare tenders up from Brendam Docks and the work to modify the one meant for him was begun. Christophe continued to oversee all of his repair work himself. He'd switched back to being an engineer only for the time being while he finished up doing his own healing and Surendra, who'd recovered much faster, went back on the spares list to keep busy until Lammergeier was fixed. Both men were still somewhat in awe of what their engine had done, but they alone, along with the Doyons, also understood how much it had truly cost him. They knew that Lammergeier was in mourning for the death of his former perception of himself.

One evening, shortly before sunset, the big 48 did get a visitor, whether he wanted one or not. Denise had come to see how he was making out and was all prepared to spend some time with him, with her blanket and thermos already in hand.

"Hey, Lammergeier, how's it going?"

Hearing someone speak German to him for the first time since Adler had come by to deliver the tenders was almost startling. He eyed the woman with a hint of his old malice.

"I'm fine," he said.

"Good. Feel like talking?"

"Not really. Thank you for coming by, but if you don't mind, I'd rather be alone."

Far from respecting his request, she rudely tossed her folded blanket up on his running board, then hitched herself up over his buffer beam. His buried temper flared instantly.

"Get off me!" he snarled, but Denise just snorted.

"Good luck with that," she laughed. "You've got no steam."

His brief rage subsided. She was absolutely right. There was nothing he could do. He clamped his mouth tightly shut instead and stared straight ahead and through her, trying to ignore her.

Denise snorted again. "Not going to talk to me, huh? Well, that's okay because I have a lot to say to you."

She arranged her blanket on his running board so she could sit and look at his face yet not be too close. He looked so angry that she wouldn't put it past him to try and bite her, and oddly enough, she was rather pleased by that. The Lammergeier of old, with all his obnoxiousness and high spirits intact, was obviously still alive in there somewhere, despite what Christophe had been saying about him being depressed. She poured out a first cup of mint tea and raised it to him in a mock toast.

"So. You're a big hero now. Pretty surprising," she said. "I bet you were hoping you'd never have it in you to want to save a human, but guess what—you do, and you always will. Even you have to acknowledge that now. That said, I do think what you did was wonderfully brave and you ought to be very proud of yourself. There are a lot of people on Sodor right now who are incredibly grateful to you and who'll want to thank you in person eventually, so you might want to start practising being gracious about accepting their thanks, even if you have to fake it.

"What else… Well, tons actually. Did Christophe tell you about your old Controller contacting some reporters back in Berlin and putting them in touch with the newspaper guys here? No? Well, he did. And your story made the front page of the B.Z., Berlin's biggest daily, how 'bout that? I guess it was hugely popular too, so much so that it got picked up by some other Euro countries, and the Berliners now want to know more about you and Adi too so don't be surprised if Mister Moderhack shows up later this summer dragging along a media crew. Of course Sir Topham's going nuts over all the free publicity. Erich's got copies of the newspaper that ran your story in Berlin so if you're ever in a mood to see and read it for yourself, just ask. The B.Z. people were also good enough to dig out some of their old archival issues and forward on some stories and mentions of you and your brothers back in the thirties when you were all brand new. There's a nice picture of Habicht in one of them. They wrote us that we should also try to watch Leni Riefenstahl's Olympia movie sometime if we could. Apparently all three of you are in a scene in the first part of the film, dropping visitors off at a station. Sir Topham's already tracked down a copy of the movie being held in some historical archive in London and is trying to get them to run off some stills. So again, there's all that for you look at whenever you come out of your current funk. Personally, I'd already be screaming to look at that picture of Habicht, but…whatever. I guess you being devastated by the loss of your precious authentic tender takes precedence."

Denise stopped talking for a while so she could pour herself another cup of tea and watch the sun sink ever lower behind a nearby treeline. The branches stood briefly out in stark contrast, then the light behind them began to fade. Soon, all that was left was a diminishing glow in the sky. A sliver of the moon began to sharpen against the deepening blue high above the horizon.

"There goes the sun…" Denise remarked. She took another big mouthful of tea, swished it around before swallowing it. "This is always our favourite part when Adi and I watch the sun go down together. You've wondered about that, haven't you, what your brother and I do when we go off together in the evenings? Well, this is about it. We pretty much do exactly what you and I are doing right now, except that Adi and I chat—that's both of us taking turns talking in case you've forgotten how normal people converse—and we like to look at the scenery. If we're parked up by the walking trail, we talk to the locals going by too and catch up on all the local gossip, who's had a new baby, who's romancing whom, all that human stuff I imagine you really don't give a rap about. Then, when it's almost time for the sun to go below the horizon, I sit right up next to Adler's face and drink my tea while I reach over and scritch his special spot. Oh, a special spot, you ask? What's that? Huh, not that you'd know. God forbid you ever derive any pleasure out of anything we humans do for you. A special spot's the place on every engine's face which they like to have scratched or stroked or rubbed the most. We humans even have a saying sort of about it: Scratch behind my ears and I'll follow you anywhere, heh. Of course you engines don't have ears, but it's the same idea."

Another sip. "Adi's favourite spot is his lips, oddly enough. He reminds me a little of a horse I used to ride as a kid, an old mare, and she loved having her lips and even her tongue rubbed and played with too. In exchange, she'd sort of lip your fingers and lick your arm as long as you'd let her…we always figured she liked the salt taste of our skin. Adi doesn't do that, but he did learn to sort of shift my fingers around between his lips like toothpicks and even hold most of my hand in his mouth. Everyone who sees him do it thinks it's just the cutest thing ever, an engine who's learned to hold hands with one of his favourite humans in the only way he can. One of our biggest railfans, Reverend Boston, even took a picture of us and got it published in one of the papers. Everybody saw it. Adi really is very affectionate, you know."

Lammergeier had squeezed his eyes shut some time ago. "Please stop," he whispered.

Denise regarded him with zero sympathy.

"Why? Because you can't stand the thought of your slave brother having a relationship with one of his human masters that's based on mutual respect and love? It's true, though. Adler's become very dear to me. I could probably love you too, even now, if you weren't such a hopeless jackass, and I know that Christophe and Surendra are crazy about you and would love to be your friends too. And yet… You don't really care about them, or me either, do you? As long as we show up to crew you through your jobs and keep you groomed and well-maintained, that's all you want from us, isn't it?"

She paused to shake her head, then kept sipping her tea as she contemplated what else she wanted to say to him.

"Christophe says you're the smartest engine he's ever known. He's writing a book—'On The Nature of Living Locomotives' is what he wants to call it, I think—and I know he'd like nothing better than to get some insight from someone like you, an engine with human-level intellect, that's what he told me. But I don't know about that, that you're really all that smart. For my money, your brother's the smart one. He recognized that he was in trouble when he first got here and he knew enough to ask for help, and he's ended up making a great life for himself as a result and endearing himself to a whole lot of people. You, on the other hand… What have you ever done with your intelligence except agonize over the things you can't do or can't have and make yourself miserable? I don't think that's very smart at all. In fact, I think it's bloody stupid, especially since you have it in you to be a really outstanding locomotive. I guess that's not enough for you, though. Too bad…"

Denise finished off the last of her drink and slowly unfolded her legs and got back up on her feet. Lammergeier still had his eyes closed and looked stricken. She was glad. It was about time he took someone's words to heart.

"Well, that's it," the woman concluded. "I guess there's nothing much else to say to you except that I hope you get fully fixed up soon with your new tender and back on the rails. I do still like driving you so I'll still be your spare driver whenever necessary. I'm also always available if you ever do decide you want to talk to someone or need something—that's just part of the job as far as I'm concerned. Lastly, even if you don't want to do anything extra for us damn humans, I do wish you'd be a little kinder to Adi. There's a side of him that's softer and far more sensitive than you know and he's very upset at the possibility of losing you all over again. So please make an effort, okay? He doesn't deserve your condemnation just because he feels differently about us than you do."

And with that said, she gathered up her blanket and thermos and got down off the unhappy loco and left…left him alone outside in the gathering gloom to continue brooding all on his own until Victor finally took pity on him and shunted him back inside for the night unasked.

It was the last time that Lammergeier spent the day outside by himself. The next day he was kept in so his newly modified replacement tender could be attached and once that proved successful, his last few cosmetic touches were seen to. Then he and his new tender were carefully repainted. As they had the first time, the day shift on duty cheered and applauded as soon as he was done. He looked the same as before, but Lammergeier was now forever a different engine. The good deed he'd done for the people of Sodor, whether intended or not, was his insurance for that.

to be continued...