Dryaw Station's atmosphere was serene as the airfield behind was between occupied flights. Number 1 sat steaming calmly at the platform as passengers began meandering the platform toward road or rail for their next destination. Thomas leaned against the fencing barricading the platform as he listened intently to Bertie's animated venting.
"...It's just insane! He's talking about taking down the entire railway! That as a more economized bus depot we could manage the passenger traffic more effectively."
Thomas removed his cap and ran an anxious hand through his hair. Taking everything in as Bertie continued on.
"Which, I like my Mudslay, it's reliable and I do good work," he gestured at this little red bus parked beyond the fencing. "But we only have ten in the fleet, and even with the two new double deckers we still can't manage an operation as big as the entire island's public transportation!"
Bertie released an enormous sigh as his thoughts seemed to pewter out. He collapsed half-heartedly next to Thomas on the fence and removed his own cap to dab his forehead with a deep red pocket square. Thomas chewed his lower lip as he carefully chose his next words.
"I don't want to discredit the bussing services, but passengers are only half of the equation. We have freight and heavy goods that require our continued operation and promptness. It's a fruitless endeavor to try and take down the enterprise as a whole. Who'd you say this guy was again?"
"He's one of the new drivers who's been relegated to the western coast stops. I forget his first name, but he has everyone just call him by his last, Bulgy."
"Ugly name for someone with ugly ideals."
Bertie cracked a defeated smile and Thomas gripped a hand on his friend's shoulder shaking him slightly.
"You worry to much about everyone." Thomas laughed, "Just focus on Bertie and his bus. Keep my friend going strong."
Bertie took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"I can try that. I do appreciate you hearing me out though."
"Hey, it's the least I can give you, having served you so much dust to eat from our races."
Bertie's eyes popped open as a wry smile graced his face.
"Is that so? If I remember correctly I always seem to overtake you on the south side of the hill by the old Kindley place."
Thomas looked casually over his shoulder seeing the guard approach his compartment, whistle and flag in hand.
"Oh? You think that's what happens? You've been thinking too much, it's addled your memory."
Thomas had begun lightly stepping backwards toward number 1. Bertie, becoming wise to what was happening, rose from his spot along the fencing and eyed the ramp down toward his bus.
"My memory is just keen friend, don't you worry. Speaking of such, would you look at the time.."
"I should really–"
"-be getting back–"
"-to my work–"
The guard's whistle blew and the two sprinted toward their machines.
"Ah Percy, I knew you were picking up livestock from the farm but I had no idea you'd be joining them in the pen. You're absolutely filthy."
James was calling out across the trackbeds at Knapford toward Percy, who in question was waiting at the goods siding to have number 6 uncoupled from its vans. He looked down at his mud slathered coveralls, reflecting on being taken up on the offer to help the farmhands usher the stock on board. It'd been fun at the moment, but he hadn't realized he wouldn't have a chance to change until after his duties.
He looked back to James' sneering visage and furrowed his brow in annoyance.
"At least I'm not afraid of hard work. Didn't you fake ill last week to get out of retrieving the steelworks train?"
James sputtered as his face went as red as the handkerchief in his breast pocket.
"I'll have you know I was on my deathbed from food poisoning. Besides the twins love it up there in Vicarstown, it was the perfect scenario."
Percy rolled his eyes as the shunter gave him the thumbs up. With two blasts of his whistle he began to back off the siding. In a moment of split second reaction he turned back toward the platform and gave James the finger, bearing a cheeky smile. James was aghast, but a booming voice caused the both of them to jump out of their skin.
"PERCY! NOT THE TIME OR PLACE." Sir Topham Hatt shouted from his office window.
Toad's tongue sat lazily clamped between his jaws as he swayed on the footplate from the motion of Number 11. Oliver at the controls hummed to himself as he checked his cab window toward the signal box ahead. The level crossing would be around the cliffside and then he'd stop for dinner at Haltrough.
"Maybe the fish and chips basket today." He thought hungrily, as he was pulled from his thoughts by an abrupt honking coming from the road to his left.
Looking out the cabside, Oliver saw the imposing stature of a blood and custard double decker bus careening along the tarmac. The driver looked monstrous as he bared his teeth and floored the bus forward. Oliver adjusted the brim of his cap and looked determinedly down at Toad who'd adjusted to an alert sit.
"If this joker wants a race, we'll give it to him. Hold tight Toady."
Opening the throttle, Oliver let water flush the tubes in Number 11's boiler, steam building as the regulator pulled open easily and the engine pounded the rails ambitiously. Autocoaches swaying rhythmically behind the beast as Oliver pulled level with the bus once again.
He tipped his hat to the driver as he effortlessly passed. Oliver was spurred into competition as the man jolted his bus daringly sideways in a fake-out attempt to ram the back of the train. Oliver watched mortified as the bus leveled out, swaying dangerously, the threat empty as the train was moving too fast to be caught.
"He's mad. Barking."
Oliver shook off the surprise and was snapped back to attention by a sharp whistle. He looked out the cab window just in time to see the signalman blowing loudly, waving wildly, and gesturing to the signal lit red. Oliver swallowed hard as the speeding duo rounded the cliffside and he saw the level crossing guarded against his train. He had to stop.
Fear rising within, he grappled with the levers as he fought to gain a controlled stop. Number 11 still rumbling along the rails at a breakneck pace, the bus was now gaining in an attempt to pass.
Oliver was aghast. The man could easily see the engine was going too fast to make a safe cross, and yet he was willing to play chicken with the lives of Oliver, Toad, and above all else each others' passengers. He had to stop his train.
Releasing the sanding gear, Oliver wretched back the reverser, attempting to get Number 11 to be able to dig in and force a halted stop. The grinding crush of sand under tire was echoing as the lurch of the engine forced the entire consist to strength test the sprung buffers of each coach. Toad latched teeth-first onto Oliver's pant leg and slid across the footplate from the force.
The bus rocketed past and turned to make the level crossing on two wheels as Number 11 shuddered to a stop, inched from the gate. The bus honked triumphantly as Oliver collapsed exhausted to the floor. Sweat stuck his boilersuit to his person as he listened to the roar of angry passengers coming from the coach windows.
"That was too close."
"It doesn't really matter what size, just so long as it's in the center…. Yeah like that!"
Emily beamed as Rebecca folded a decent lump of coal into her handkerchief, mimicking what had just been shown to her.
The two stood by the hopper at Wellsworth in the hidden part of the yard. Miscellaneous piles of rubbish scattered along the abandoned goods siding were great prospective targets for Emily's teachings. The two had resorted to another evening of 'blowing off steam.'
"Feel balanced then?" Emily asked optimistically.
"It does. Better than the last throw anyway." Rebecca laughed as Emily raised a hand to her eyes scanning for the right recipient.
"How about that old boiler? I'll give you a quid if you get it in the smokebox!" She gestured at a rusted steam boiler missing its smokebox door hidden amongst the growing weeds and mangled iron.
Rebecca's grin faltered as she tilted her head in dismay.
"I don't think I can…"
"Sure you can! It's so big it'd be hard to miss! Even with your lousy aim."
Rebecca lowered her make-shift slingshot and sighed as she avoided Emily's eyes.
"I just can't hit THAT target. I mean it used to be an engine right? Just doesn't seem right."
Emily's gaze was quizzical as she followed Rebecca's eye-line to the boiler.
"I'm not sure I get your meaning?"
"It had a life you know? It used to be a working engine and now this… is like its final resting place. I don't know if I can hit it."
Emily's curiousness was replaced with another grin as she propped her hands on her hips and clicked her tongue.
"Okay okay, I won't make you hit any part of an engine alright? You're a funny one Rebecca. It's like you think engines are alive or something."
Rebecca tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she felt a blush rush up into her cheeks.
"I know they aren't alive." She laughed nervously. "It's more about respect. As engineers our trains are our partners. A friend of mine explained it like that to me and… I guess I just agree."
Emily lifted onto her toes to throw and arm around her friend, resting her head on Rebecca's shoulder.
"You're an odd one, but I think I'll keep ya."
Rebecca's shoulders shook as she held in a laugh. A light smile came about as she let her head slump on top of Emily's.
"Thanks. I'll keep you too."
Emily laughed and unstuck herself from the embrace to go pick her own coal lump.
"As if you wouldn't want me around. Alright! New target….. Let me know now if you have any sentimentality for windows, cans, or the moon.
Rebecca snorted. "You want to lob a chunk of coal at the moon?"
Emily levied her dark green bandana checking the weight as she pointed toward the glowing orb above.
"You were taught to respect your craft, I was taught to shoot for the stars. So yeah. I may as well take a shot at the moon on my way."
Rebecca raised her head to look too, holding her bandana at the ready.
"Well, if there's anything I can do to help you take your shot, you know you can count on me."
"On three."
Together the two counted down, from three, two, and at one, they whipped their bandanas. The soft slaps of fabric launching coal was all that was heard as the two stones caught the light of the moon in their arc. As the two watched for their eventual landing, Emily spoke up.
"So who was this friend?"
Hi friends. =) Back online for a bit. Health Journeys are no joke. Please take care of yourselves. I've got some time to myself again so I'm writing a bit. I'm going to update this and a few of my other stories in the next coming days before I need to go back to PT rehab. So yeah!
Thank you everyone for your reviews. You're all so kind =) I really appreciate it, and it makes coming back to creative writing a more communal and enjoyable experience. You're the best =)
And per usual! Thank you so much for reading! -REN