HE'S MY BROTHER
Chapter Fourteen - Lammergeier's Decision
Lammergeier went back to work. As before, his crew kept a careful, surreptitious eye on him, still not sure of what to make of his new, rather depressed-seeming affect, but soon learned that it went hand in hand with some pleasing changes. A great many people wanted to talk to him whenever he sat waiting at the platforms for any length of time and for the first time, he paid some real attention to all his new fans, looking at them and accepting their congratulations and queries without any nasty sense of doing so just to string them along. He even spoke with them, although his repertoire was as yet limited to such simple responses as "ja", "I am fine", and "zank you very much", and he sometimes looked after the folks as they left not with his usual boredom or irritation but a strange sort of puzzlement, as though he still couldn't understand why he was so deserving of attention from total strangers. To Surendra and Christophe he still seemed withdrawn, even listless, and they soon learned via a little judicious eavesdropping that anyone who did notice was attributing it to a mix of the engine's being humble and his still convalescing after his accident. Lammergeier's being humble was a crock, of course, yet there was some truth in the convalescence part of it. Physically fixed though he was, the engine still had some mental healing to do.
One evening, early on, Christophe came back to the Knapford roundhouse after supper to check on some routine maintenance matters concerning Guy and Francois and afterwards strolled on over to the other side of the sheds to look at Lammergeier. None of his immediate neighbours had returned from work yet; so far it was just the 48 and the two Canadians settling in for the night. Christophe poked about inspecting his engine's undercarriage. He could feel Lammergeier's gaze on him the entire time and, on a hunch, he decided to inspect and lubricate the holdings for some of the engine's display posts, a genuine, useful task given that the tourist season was fast approaching. Lammergeier's eyes widened a little when the man first climbed up with his bucketful of utensils, although he didn't look away.
"Don't worry, I'm just here to check out your display features," Christophe told him matter-of-factly, then turned his attention to his work. The holes in the engine's running board which accommodated his flag holders and the two main display posts were typically kept filled with studs when not in use, to protect the threads and keep out the dirt. He unscrewed the studs now with what amounted to a giant fist-sized screwdriver, then wiped and lubricated the studs and the holes they came out of one by one before replacing them. One of the studs was a little rusty so it was just as well that he'd made up the busy-work in order to hang around a while longer. Lammergeier watched him steadily throughout. Christophe, studying him carefully out of the corner of one eye, thought that he looked…lonely.
"You're looking rather pensive this evening," he remarked once done with his small job. "Anything on your mind that you might like to share?"
And to Christophe's incredible relief and pleasure, the engine did have something to share. He frowned and said, in a bitter, resigned tone, "I vill never be anything but a Lok. Vill I?"
Christophe put down his bucket at once, turned, and faced his locomotive directly. The engine kept his eyes on him, no longer afraid.
"Well, no, Lammergeier. Of course not. But I hardly see that that's anything to be unhappy about."
"Vhy?" he demanded, still sounding bitter.
"Well, for starters, there are plenty of humans in the world. Lots and lots of animal species of all shapes and sizes, some of them friends to man, most of them not. But there aren't that many living steam locomotives. That, in my opinion, is something the world could use more of, especially exceptional locos like you, who've proven themselves to be brave and loyal. I don't think you quite realize what you've done here, Lammergeier. No one's going to forget what you did, and because of it, you'll likely outlive every person currently residing on Sodor."
"Outlive zem!" Now he sounded shocked.
"Sure. That's one of your great advantages. You engines don't really have a set lifespan like we humans do. You could potentially still be running the rails a century from now, just like Stephen, only Stephen'll be over two centuries old by then. The trick is to endear yourself to the public in addition to being useful, to become an icon of sorts. The Rocket's achieved that. So has The Flying Scotsman. You could do it too and all because you obeyed your heart for once and saved all those children. Of course, it's up to you whether the thought of all those long, long years of life is a source of great joy for you or a miserable burden. That part, none of us can help you with…"
He trailed off. Lammergeier had lowered his gaze and had a peculiar look on his face, one at once strange yet hauntingly familiar. Then the man had it. It was the same hard-thinking expression Adi got when he was trying to understand a difficult concept put to him by one of his human friends. Christophe just wasn't used to seeing it on Lammergeier.
"I'll leave you in peace then," he said to the engine in conclusion before climbing down off his running board. Lammergeier said nothing back. He was fully absorbed by his own thoughts. When Christophe took a last peek at him after he'd put the short ladder he'd used away, the engine was still ruminating.
Lammergeier's quiet thoughtfulness persisted over the next few days. Occasionally, Christophe saw him putting his tongue out to lick his lips, a sign of stress in locomotives, but a good type of stress, of the sort they typically underwent when grappling with a novel new idea or other challenge to their intellect. Something radical was evidently going on within Lammergeier's mind. It absorbed him enough that he almost looked a little spaced at times as he went about his work, although he'd come promptly out of it if spoken to and continued to behave decently with everyone he interacted with.
Then came the best day yet, one that was brilliantly sunny, with a light breeze laced with a glorious mildness and broad hints of the summer to come. The world had turned green while Lammergeier had been up at the Sodor Steamworks and was now full of bloom and new life. Christophe and Surendra smiled almost nonstop as they went about their work that day and hoped for something else that was new to soon spring into being.
Lammergeier and his crew completed their last job, a goods delivery to the village of Ulfstead proper, late in the afternoon. But instead of turning around to go home afterwards, the men went for a more scenic return and took their engine up to Arlesdale. The big 48 was curious about their decision, although not enough to say anything about it. But when they slowed him right down to a crawl when chuffing down the portion of their line which paralleled the tracks used by the miniature engines of the Arlesdale Railway and Surendra hung halfway out of his cab window and began calling back such remarks as "sorry, don't see him" and "still nothing…wonder if the others took him up to the hills?", his natural nosiness finally got the better of him.
"Who are you look for?" he suddenly interjected, just as rudely as ever. Within his cab, his driver and fireman exchanged grins. Gotcha, thought Christophe.
"Have you heard any of the gossip about the new miniature engine on Sodor? The one that arrived unexpectedly near the end of January?" Christophe asked him cheerfully in response.
Lammergeier had to think about that one.
"Maybe…little bit. He come…on a ship?"
"That's the one. He showed up out of the blue complete with his whole train, packed up in three big crates addressed to Denise, already paid for and everything. What a scramble that was that day, trying to find out what was going on! It turned out that this was one of Denise's Dutch railfan cousins doing her a big favour, except it came three years late. The folks at the Arlesdale Railway had been looking to buy another mini long ago, but wound up building their own new engine in the meantime, so…figures. Anyway, he's fully restored now and I thought you might like to meet him. His name is Wikus. He's a fellow European, from the Netherlands, and he's something of a War refugee too."
"Vhat do you mean, a refugee?"
"Well, Wikus used to belong to this rich rail enthusiast with a big mansion and enough of an estate to lay down a lot of track for his own little engine to run on. And he's a proper mini, too, certified to work any fifteen-inch track, not a toy. Some company in Delft that normally made narrow gauge locos built him as something of a favour apparently. Anyway, his owner made some agreement with another rich buddy to develop a piece of neighbouring land into an amusement park and he extended his own rail line over to the park so Wikus could give rides to people, including touring the estate gardens. I guess the park was popular enough to become quite famous and Wikus was one of its star attractions. Everybody in the surrounding town used to know him and loved him. Then the War broke out and the Nazis came. I'm sure you know they occupied the Netherlands and a number of other countries, and they kicked the rich railfan out of his mansion and used it as a headquarters and for officers' residences and turned the amusement park and gardens into a recreational facility for their own soldiers. So instead of carrying around happy local families, Wikus had to cart around German officers' families and military people on leave and collaborators. Which he tried to do cheerfully enough, I suppose, since he had no choice in the matter, but still… I'm sure it broke a lot of Dutch people's hearts to see that sweet little engine forced to serve the Nazi occupiers, just as I'm sure it broke a lot of sincere Germans' hearts to see engines like you reduced to war reparations."
"Oh," Lammergeier exclaimed softly. This was another thing which he'd never considered, that there might be people he didn't even know who would be upset by what had happened to him at the end of the War. He'd been convinced that humans, all humans, didn't really give a damn about the lives of engines. "Vhat happened zu Wikus vhen ze Allies came?" he asked, suddenly eager to hear the rest of the story.
"Ah, that's when it got exciting," Christophe replied. "The man who used to own Wikus was still around—the Nazis had at least left him his life, although they robbed him of everything else—and he kept a very close eye on the progress of the War as the years went by, never losing hope that he might someday be able to reclaim his little engine. Then D-Day came and the Nazis were suddenly in real trouble. The Allied forces worked their way close enough during that first fall that people who lived near the amusement park could hear the explosions of the nearby fighting and even see the horizon light up at night. Then there came a terrible dark moonless night when the fighting sounded closer than ever and the townspeople could hear bomber planes droning overhead and all the local Nazis left were in a panic, rushing about and organizing themselves and briefly quitting the town for the most part to go and do battle. Wikus's master knew that the Allies would soon drive the Nazis back their way and he was very much afraid that they'd implement their usual scorched earth policy as they retreated. He and a bunch of friends with a couple of trucks seized their chance and rushed out to the amusement park in the dark and somehow managed to steal that little engine and his entire train of rolling stock out of there while everyone in authority was occupied with the fighting. One of the friends had some old outbuildings on a worthless piece of land out in the country and they managed to stash Wikus there just in time and rushed back to town to take cover and try and survive themselves. The following day, the Nazis swept back through and sure enough, they torched the park, the mansion…everything. And if they even noticed that the park's engine was missing, well, they didn't care anymore in their panicked rage and quit the town as soon as they'd destroyed what they could of their former holdings. The flames devouring the mansion were apparently still burning when the Allies marched in later that night, providing light. And Wikus's owner and all the other locals who'd survived were there to greet them."
"Und zhen zhey got Wikus?"
"Well, no, it was still too dangerous. They had to wait for the last of the fighting to sweep through, for one thing. The formerly rich guy and the friend who owned the buildings where Wikus was hidden did drive out a few days later to make sure he hadn't been discovered and that the property hadn't been disturbed, and it hadn't been, but that was all they dared do. The town was a mess after all. So much destruction. A lot of people dead or missing or hurt and half-starved…there were a lot of higher priorities just then other than the welfare of a miniature steam engine. Besides, what could they have done with him? Beloved or not, a lot of locals would have pushed to have him smelted down to provide raw materials for all the rebuilding that needed to be done. Wikus was much safer where he was. And it made his newly restored owner's heart glad to know he was safe. It made everyone who'd taken part in his rescue happy, just the knowledge that they'd salvaged something of the old days before the Nazis came. It was their joyful secret."
But Lammergeier didn't see it that way. He was a little appalled.
"So zhey left him zere? For years? All alone? Vhy?"
"Why not?" Christophe countered. "That's another of you engines' great advantages. You can hibernate at will and sleep the time away when things are rough. We humans can't. We're the ones who have to stay awake and suffer. Wikus didn't suffer at all."
Lammergeier chuffed along in silence for a moment. "But how do you know?" he finally said. "How could he not suffer, zu have zu vait alone for years und years?"
"Because he wasn't alone, Lammergeier. Not really. I'm sure the last thing his master told him was to close his eyes and go to sleep, and when he came back for him and woke him up that the world would be a much better place again, for men and little steam engines alike. I have no doubt that Wikus trusted his owner and went to sleep having complete faith that he'd be back for him eventually. There's no suffering when trust and faith prevail."
Again, the disembodied voice went silent. After a while, Christophe added, "Anyway, that's Wikus's background. Unfortunately, the amusement park and tracks he used to run on were never rebuilt and his owner sadly decided that he'd need to find a new home for Wikus before he dared wake him again. That's where Denise's cousin stepped into the story. He still thought that she was looking for a miniature engine for some of her colleagues and then he met a guy in a bar who knew a friend who knew a friend and so forth. When Wikus's owner found out that someone was looking for a mini engine for the Arlesdale Railway on Sodor, I guess he just about fell over. He knew all about Sodor, you see, and thought it would be the perfect new home for Wikus. So, we got him. What's kind of hilarious is that when he first came, he spoke fluent Dutch, German and French, and could handle conversational Spanish and Italian no problem. But he didn't speak a word of English. We thought you'd just like to have another engine friend to speak German with. And have someone new to compare notes with, of course, since you both came through a World War and managed to survive in your own ways. Ah well, we'll try again another day. Or we can call up and make an actual date to meet."
Lammergeier said nothing in response. He was too busy still thinking about Wikus sleeping away the long years in his hiding place, perfectly content to wait until his master came back for him. Then he started thinking about how Christophe had been coming up to the steamworks all during his own interval of waiting to be repaired and repainted. The man had limped a lot and had seemed very tired sometimes throughout the first few weeks, but he'd come every day even so, just to make sure that Lammergeier was being cared for properly.
The engine was so absorbed by his musing that he paid no attention to where his crew was driving him. When he finally came out of it, he saw that they were on the southbound track running through Arlesburgh West.
The Arlesburgh coastal line again…the Little Western…the place where he'd made his aborted sprint for freedom and been made to spill his secrets at last… It all seemed so pointless now…
Lammergeier's disembodied voice filled his cab again. "Christophe?"
"Yes, Lammergeier?"
"Could ve…stop at Bluff's Cove avhile? In ze siding?"
His driver became instantly worried.
"Oh? Are you feeling poorly? Is something wrong?" he asked, his concern evident.
"No. No. I vas zinking…ve could vatch ze sun set together. Like Adler und Denise."
Although he couldn't see them, he sensed both men relaxing, their weight within him seeming to grow lighter.
"What do you think, Surendra?" Christophe said, his tone now much happier. "Feel like stopping to watch the sun set with Lammergeier?"
"I think that is a splendid idea," his fireman replied, and the consensus was made.
They pulled in at Bluff's Cove and came to a gentle stop. The siding put them in an ideal location from which to observe the lowering sun. Although the sky was clear, there was a lot of mist out over the sea on this glorious evening, obscuring the coastline of the Isle of Man nearby. The sun, when it set, would appear to sink into a layer of fog. Surendra hopped out and went forward in front of Lammergeier, while Christophe used the same trick Denise did, a loop of cloth rope over the engine's forward coupling hook, to hoist himself up between his buffers. Standing on one of the steps leading up to the uppermost portion of Lammergeier's running board put the little engineer in the perfect position to lean against the side of the loco's face and stretch an arm out—carefully, since his smokebox was still hot—over the top of his faceplate. Then he just relaxed, feeling vindicated at last, thinking that this moment had been a very long time coming but that it was already worth all the heartache the temperamental, infuriating, and magnificent 48 had put him through.
Surendra was still standing a little ways in front of the locomotive, facing the sun. While they watched, his put his arms straight out on either side, held them there for a few seconds, and slowly reeled them back in. His hands came together, palm to palm, in front of his face.
The engine was intrigued. He was good at sizing humans up, but this was a behaviour new to him.
"Vhat is he doing?" asked Lammergeier.
"Surendra? Praying, maybe. Or perhaps he's just giving thanks."
"Giving zanks for vhat?"
"For being alive. And for being able to appreciate it."
The loco and his driver both fell silent. Christophe just kept watching his fireman while absently running his hand over the top of Lammergeier's forehead. The setting sun was making a silhouette out of his colleague's figure. Surendra extended his arms out again, his palms uppermost, then drew his hands back together in front of himself. Yes, definitely praying, Christophe thought. And then he felt something remarkable…
The alloy surface beneath his stroking hand was starting to quiver. He could soon feel it through his whole body wherever he was leaning against Lammergeier's face, just waves and waves of almost imperceptible trembling. Then he heard the engine utter a barely audible, inarticulate sound. His breathing turned ragged, coming in convulsive gasps, almost as if he were trying desperately not to sob.
Christophe waited, saying nothing. All he did was keep stroking and stroking the engine's face. And for the first time, he could feel the hard amorphous metal beginning to yield to the pressure of his fingers, growing pliant and warmer, softening, becoming more sensitive…surrendering. He reached further down and smoothed his palm over the engine's eyebrows. Lammergeier allowed it and closed his eyes, all his resistance gone.
"That's good. Good boy," Christophe began to murmur. "It's all over, my son. No more worries." The engine's breathing was easing and becoming quiet again, his emotional storm fading. He was listening to him. "There you go," the man continued to croon in a soft, reassuring voice. "You don't need to struggle any longer. We'll look after you now."
He traced the upper contours of his loco's finely chiseled nose and gently scratched the base of it just beneath the space between his eyebrows. Lammergeier expelled a sudden deep sigh with a little groan to it, his eyes still closed.
Christophe had found his special spot.
And Lammergeier, he'd found his place.
THE END