The Island's Swansong

XXX - Goodbye

My heartbeat sped up to match the fast drumming chuffs of Thomas' pistons. We were on a direct collision course with the fallen tree.

"I'm starting to feel a little short of puff," Thomas panted.

"Keep it up 'til we're through," Anne braced herself on the cab window.

"You can't be serious?!" I copied, bracing myself on the opposite cab window.

"I am," Anne replied, "That tree's old and rotten. It'll shatter when we hit it, and the line will clear."

"I hope you're right," I said with more skepticism in my voice than expected. The tree drew closer at an alarming rate.

"Head in," Anne instructed, leaning herself into the cab, hands gripping the window edges.

I mimicked, tensed, lips tucked in as we waited for the moment of impact.

A shake rippled from Thomas' front through to the cab. Shards of disintegrating bark flew past the cab windows. Shadows doused us in darkness. Anne threw herself forward, grabbing the brake. Our speed slowed. I allowed myself the luxury of another breath.

A salty wave of air washed through the cab. Buildings clustered either side of us as we rolled onto one of the quayside sidings. Anne brought us to a stop. "Let me go fiddle with the points," she climbed down from the cab.

Nodding, I paused, hearing coughing over the lapping of the waves.

"I had my eyes closed, but not my mouth," Thomas spat.

"Lesson learned," I breathed, checking the firebox. Thomas' fire was dying down. We didn't have long to get him back into the shed.

"I forgot how blue the sea was," Thomas spoke, softly, "And dark, and how it glistens in the light."

I leant out of the cab. Pink clouds swirled as sunset orange seeped overhead, completing the Sodor scene. Never in a million years did I expect to be sitting in Thomas' cab under heavens painted with such unfiltered beauty.

Anne returned. "The points are rusted in place," she sighed, "If we can get the set on this line moving, its one crossover to the shed berth. Then we should be okay."

"Alright, hurry," I glanced at the fire, "Try breaking the rods, or using the winch."

Anne nodded, dropping off the cab ladder.

I sat, waiting. Pain started to return to my leg. The adrenaline of the ride, and the final rush brought on by the fallen tree, began to subside. Me and Thomas were both in the same boat. In need of a good, long, uninterrupted rest.

I closed my eyes, hearing Anne uncouple the Defender, revving the engine over to wherever she needed it. I tried to rest, without dozing off. The winch whirred back to life, but loud seagulls drowned it out with indignant squawks. The clattering of boots on the footplate stirred me again.

"I looped the winch cable around the rod and forced them to change," Anne said, looking at me.

I looked back. Her eyes were wide, eyebrows raised, and her mouth hung open, lips caught in the trap of being unsure whether to talk.

"You're pale."

"Pale?" I squinted at her.

"Yeah," she bit her lip, looking back to Thomas' controls, "We need to get you to a doctor. You've been numbing your pain with drugs for too long."

Touching my face, cold skin stole the heat from my fingertips. The drugs and adrenaline must've kept my colour up. Doubt interrogated my thoughts. Was risking my health worth it, for a train ride?