The Island's Swansong

XXVI - Branch Line Engines

He was here. After all this time, all this searching, after everything I'd found, the little blue tank engine was still here. His condition was unlike any other engine. Pristine, with blue paint slightly matted by time and dust. His wheels and side-rods showed minimal wear and rust.

More notably, he was every way, and simultaneously no way, like I'd envisioned and seen him over the years. His running board was straight, with no dip at the front, and was white, not black. While he looked shorter than a regular E2, he appeared wider than he did in the TV show and early book illustrations. The immensity of him as a physical presence was starker than the other engines, probably because I'd held so many toys of him as a child. As a real, tangible locomotive, he radiated the power and command such a machine had.

So transfixed was I on the blue tank engine, that I didn't notice the company in his shed. All three berths were full.

Sitting in the middle berth was Percy, weathered by time. Dust and soot had settled atop his saddle tanks, the curvature of which sat somewhere between the roundness of his TV model and the Pug-like renditions seen in the later books. His wheelbase was short and plump, while his red boiler lining had almost faded away completely.

But it was Toby who'd borne the crueler hand of time. His cowcatcher and side plates were spattered with rust, while his wooden paneling had begun to break. Holes had been bored in places by termites, and other wood-infesting insects had begun to take advantage of his presence.

But the Ffarquhar trio lived.

"Nice to see you again, Anne," Thomas spoke.

His voice... It was hard to describe.

"You too," Anne answered, as if this engine was a mere friend, not a celebrity.

"Who's this you've got with you?" Thomas' eyes and expression focused in on my dumbfounded form.

I was still entranced, by everything. Thomas was every version of himself in one. His voice was unlike every voice he'd had in the show, yet not wholly unlike them at the same time. He held more of an adult tone, atop which sat a cocktail of Southern accents. He sounded unique.

"Someone who's been a little too curious while exploring Sodor," Anne nudged my cast with her foot, gently enough to not send me keeling over in agony.

Clearing my throat, I tried to end my bout of stunned silence. "I never thought this day would come," I forced out words, rather softly.

"What day?" Percy raised an eyebrow, then his face leapt into elation, eyes and mouth shooting wide. "Are we reopening?!"

"No," Anne shut him down, "It's just the pleasure of meeting you engines."

"It is," I nodded, clearing my throat, "You've made so many children, and adults, happy the world over."

"Oh," Percy's face drooped, "Not enough for us to reopen, though."

"Speaking as someone who came from a closing line, we're lucky we lasted as long as we did," Toby chimed in, "We had a remarkable run, but no line can run forever."

"We did," Thomas agreed, "But it doesn't mean we can't miss it."

"Right," Anne turned to me, "You get acquainted, and I'll go about my business."

"Business?" I ignored her instruction, watching her stroll down the side of the shed.

"One of my grandfather's wishes, and now my father's," she began fishing for cleaning products and tools, "Was to keep Thomas in good shape. So I come once a year, give him a look over, a clean, and oil and that. That's today's second task." She began gathering items, and then left to get other bits from her car.