The ghost situation had people on edge again. Just as when Boomer appeared, profits dropped temporarily for the NWR, but once sightings of the ghost became common, this was curtailed.

A mixed blessing would come when the entire board resigned. On one hand, this meant Lord Harwick and the Fat Director no longer had to worry about any of their engines getting taken out of service. On the other hand, they both knew they couldn't do everything themselves.

Some days later, Gordon was most surprised to find the workers coming up to him with some square-looking buffers.

"What are those?" he asked.

"Your new buffers," a workman answered. "These square buffers are all that was available. You know you can't work without buffers."

"Ugh, they look ugly!" snorted Gordon. "Bring proper buffers right this instant!"

"So I guess you're ok with staying here a few more days?" asked the worker

"What are you talking about?"

"Like I said, these were the only buffers we could find. It will take a week to get a new set of round buffers, maybe even longer. Do you really want to be stuck in the works that long?"

"Ugh, fine," growled Gordon. "They better be worth it though."

Gordon complained about his square buffers all the way back to Vicarstown. However, when he got there, he looked at the other engines and realised something, smiling wider and wider as it dawned on him.

"Wait a minute, all of you have round buffers…and I have square buffers! Ha ha! I'm unique! My buffers are the best!"

Other than some nearby trucks, nobody found that funny.

"I don't get what the big deal is, they're just buffers," snorted Thomas.

"SQUARE buffers little Thomas," corrected Gordon. "Much better than your puny roundies."

Gordon's fireman facepalmed.

Over the next few days, Gordon kept bragging about his unique buffers. It was Petunia, who normally stayed silent on matters like this, that decided enough was enough.

"Shut up, just shut up!" she snapped. "Your buffers serve the same purpose as others, they're just buffers!"

"That's where you're wrong, Peatey," snorted Gordon. "My buffers are square. They serve the same exact purpose, I'll admit. But the shape is what makes me proud. And the best part? If anybody tries to steal them, they'll get poked."

"Why would…? Oh forget it!"

Petunia steamed off, Gordon's attitude clearly frustrating her.

Later, Petunia was shunting, as an attempt to calm down. Instead, she felt something odd: a cold wind began blowing. Then, without warning, the trucks on a nearby siding began speaking in an unusual language, repeating a single sentence endlessly.

"Dominus tibi non parcet, tempus tuum venturum est."

"What are you saying? What language is that?"

"Sudric?" suggested a nearby truck. "No, wait, that doesn't sound like Sudric. I…I don't know!"

The other trucks clearly looked spooked.

"Snap out of that! Snap out of it, I say!"

It was no good: those trucks kept saying that phrase over and over again. One stopped long enough to call desperately for help, then resumed. Panicking, Petunia reacted quickly and gave them a hard bump! This snapped the trucks out of their trance.

"Thank you Petunia!" sighed the first truck. "Something took control over me… I… Just wanted to play…Oh my god! What the hell happened?!"

The affected trucks began crying.

"There there, it's ok now," said Petunia.

The only explanation was the ghost had returned. This made everyone paranoid, and properly so. The engines began to refuse night work. As a result, the NWR began to lose money, since goods contracts involved night work.

After a week of that, the Fat Director had had enough and called his engines together.

"I know we're in an unusual situation," he told them, "but we still have a railway to run."

"And what if this ghost possesses one of us like it did with those trucks?" asked 98462. The Fat Director was about to reply, but stopped: it WAS a good question, he had to admit.

"I am afraid I can't answer that question," he admitted.

"I can handle the trains these lazywheels are too afraid to handle," put in Thomas.

"That will be way too much for you to handle," said the Fat Director. "Besides, you're still needed in the yard. I expect you all to not let a fear of ghosts stop you from doing nightwork: I'll be doing all I can to make sure everything stays safe." And with that, he left. When he did, Thomas began to grumble.

"Overlooked again," he huffed. "Honestly, it's like he's forgotten I helped build this railway."

"What are you talking about?" asked Selena.

"I'll tell you what: I spend all my time pulling coaches and trucks about, ready for you lot to take out on long journeys. I should be allowed to pull trains too, I used to plenty of times! Why won't the Fat Director let me pull trains again?!"

"Well, Thomas," said Conan, "the thing is…"

"You're too impatient," interrupted Gordon. "You'd be sure to leave something behind."

"Rubbish!" snorted Thomas. "Just you wait, I'll show you! I'll show you!"

Goods traffic resumed, but nobody felt safe at night, so nighttime passenger trains were cancelled. This didn't hurt the railway that much, though it did lead to the engines fighting over who would pull the nighttime goods trains. Nobody wanted to, but it had to be done.

That night, it was Petunia who had to take a fast goods train all the way to Tidmouth. The second she departed, she wanted to turn back, but knew that wasn't an option. All the same, she couldn't help but wonder: what was it like to be possessed by a ghost? Would she be able to talk to the ghost as it resided in her mind?

As she passed Kellsthorpe, she felt the same cold wind as when the trucks were possessed. This signalled to her the ghost wanted to take over her body.

"No…You won't touch me!" she shouted. But it was too late: she suddenly found herself slowing down.

"Driver…" she managed to call, "I don't think this is something either of us can control. I feel…like I'm losing…"

All went silent.

"Losing what? Losing what?!" shrieked the fireman.

"She meant losing herself," answered the driver. "I think the ghost took possession of our Petunia."

They soon came to a stop before the junction leading to the Kirk Ronan Line.

"Petunia? Petunia!" shouted the driver. The voice that replied DIDN'T belong to Petunia: it came from her mouth, but it wasn't Petunia's voice.

"She is gone… I remain."

The driver and fireman stared in horror.

"Let her go!" shouted the driver.

"And what will you do if I don't? Destroy her? You know you'll kill her too if you do that."

The driver was despairing.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"The railway killed me. It's only fair…"

"When did the railway kill you?" asked the driver.

"Like hell you'd care: you weren't there."

"Then why are you possessing our engine? She had nothing to do with your death," the driver pointed out.

"She is a locomotive. All locomotives who travel this rails will fall under my curse, my revenge will go through, whatever the cost."

Inside her mind, Petunia found herself face-to-face with the shadowy figure of a well dressed gentleman.

"Uh… hello? Who are you?"

There came no response.

"Why did you cause Gordon to crash?"

"I did no such thing," the ghost said. "He crashed himself."

"You scared him. And why are you attacking us? We didn't do anything to you."

"Don't lie! Your railway killed me! I was caught in that rockslide but nobody helped me!"

"But I wasn't there!" Petunia pointed out. "You can't take your anger out on those who weren't there!"

"I can, and I will," said the ghost.

Petunia's body began to move, startling her crew.

"What are you doing?!" demanded the driver.

"What I need to do," the ghost answered.

Petunia fought against the ghost, managing to take some control back. Before long, the two began struggling over who would have full control.

"Let me go!"

"Never!"

"You can't hold the body forever you know!"

"Not forever! Just…until…I get…"

Petunia was speeding up, nearing the overpass.

"What have you planned?! That's not a tunnel!"

"Well it's as close as!"

Closer and closer they came, then, without warning, a giant red fireball shot out of Petunia's funnel! Everything stopped. Petunia blinked, back in control of her body.

"What on Earth was that?" she asked. "Didn't really feel like anything happened."

"I'm not sure," admitted the driver. "I'm just glad you're back. Now let's continue with our job."

Petunia finished her delivery, but she couldn't sleep. What was that ghost planning?

When she closed her eyes, nightmares waited for her. Nightmares of someone being buried alive. Nightmares of how the ghost died.

This was far from over. Petunia knew this too well. The only question now was how it was going to end.