Traintober25 Day 26 Disaster
Day 26-Reflection
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Henry thundered down the line, the vans swaying behind him with his speed, the cold air streaming past him with biting force. Steam raced from his funnel in a straight line from the force of the wind. He barely restrained himself from whistling with joy, they had climbed the hill, and he hadn't lost steam.
He had pulled a train at speed all the way from Tidmouth and he hadn't lost steam.
The snow reflected his lamps ahead of him as he raced ahead, the green glow of signals racing past.
He finally felt whole. He wasn't strangled for breath, he wasn't weak. He was an express engine, as his builders had intended.
The stars shone overhead brightly, his breath billowing out as steam from the cold. The world was all quiet beneath snow and starlight, only the sound of his train reaching him. He raced through Cronk, with a whistle to the electric engine at the platform, although he didn't have time to see which one it was.
He had always secretly wondered how Gordon felt at speed, and now that he knew, he felt he understood the Gresley Pacific better.
he raced into the curve heading towards Killdane, the signals all green, they were making good time. At this rate they would be…
The points were set to the siding.
SREEEEEEEEECH
Henry slammed his brakes on, blasting his whistle, even as he realized it was far, far too late. As he fought to slow his train, using every trick he had heard from Gordon's many lectures to check his train, anything for a mile slower, anything to lessen the impact, some small part of him couldn't help but admire the sight of the sparks from his brakes against the snow.
Another part noticed the engine at the front of the long slate train in the siding try to start their train, steam erupting from their funnel, even as he saw their crew diving from the guard's van. He appreciated the attempt, but their train was far, far, too heavy, and it was too late.
He called for his crew to jump, knowing it was their only chance.
He closed his eyes, right before he hit, knowing he was still going far too fast.
PAIN
He felt wood splintering, slate cracking, metal bending, and his wheels leaving the rails before everything went mercifully dark.
He flickered to for a moment, hazy and dim, his driver in front of him screaming “Run Tidmouth, Run!” before the No.3 fell under again.
Brief flashes of awareness.
Edward working with a crane to clear the wreckage.
Tidmouth swearing through tears.
His driver begging him to stay.
He struggled awake, Sir Topham Hatt was knelt in the snow before him framed by the dawning light. Henry was finally aware enough to realize he was laid on his side in the snow.
“The…the signal was down, Sir.” he managed to force out.
Hatt laid a hand on his cheek, “It wasn't your fault Henry.” The Fat Controller said firmly, “snow and ice forced the signal down, even though the points were frozen in place. “
“My…my crew…” Henry rasped.
“Safe, thanks to you. You slowed the train enough for them to jump clear. You did wonderfully.”
“I.. I did, Sir?”
“No one could have asked for more. I'm very proud of you Henry. I'm sending you to Crewe. A fine place for sick engines, they'll repair you. You'll finally have a new shape and a larger firebox. You won't need welsh coal any longer. You'll be strong enough on your own. Won't that be nice?”
Henry faded out before he could answer, at peace, knowing he had made his controller proud.
He was dimly aware of being lifted and then lowered onto something, Gordon’s frantic whistle sounding in the distance.
Wind racing by his face, Emily’s strangled whistle as they thundered past.
He came to, wind racing by fast enough his eyes watered, the scenery a blur between the speed and the wind. Gordon’s exhaust thundering just in front of him, the mighty Pacific’s valve gear screeching from the abuse.
“Come on come on come on come on come on,” the pacific panted.
Henry couldn't muster the strength to answer, to let Gordon know he heard.
As Henry lost his grip on the waking world once more, Henry had the strangest realization.
He'd never heard Gordon crying before.
There was a raucous noise all around, workmen calling, and the sound of engines being worked on. Beneath it all Henry almost didn't hear Gordon whisper, “You're gonna make it Henry, you are not leaving me to deal with James alone.”
Pain.
Cutting, welding, forging, hammers rising and falling. Young Charles’s voice. He didn't know for how long they swirled together.
A fire. Steam. Life pouring back into metal, some old, but so much so very new… but still,
Henry woke.
A/N: Hello loves! You didn't think yesterday was standalone, did you? Love Y'all!