Chapter Text
Though things at Tidmouth Sheds had changed over the course of the rather bizarre events of the last few months, mostly things had remained the same. Henry had broken down, as he sometimes did, and was spending the night at the Steamworks being repaired. This made Gordon rather irritable, but it pissed off James even more. Because if Henry was gone, someone else had to take the Flying Kipper. And that someone else was James.
Every person, engine, and coach on the island knew how much James hated pulling trucks, but that wasn’t about to stop the red engine from reminding them all about it. Soon, it was clear that no one was getting any sleep at the sheds that night. Finally, one engine snapped. With a tired sigh, Edward moved out of his berth, “Since you hate trucks so much, James, I guess I’ll just take the Kipper. Goodnight.”
Everyone stared in shock as the old blue engine moved off of the turntable and puffed away towards the docks. Edward was the last engine anyone would expect to lose patience like that, but after a long day being kept up all night can get to anyone eventually. James fell silent as he watched the other engine leave. He hadn’t meant to make Edward angry. Aware of the glares from the other engines, James shifted back further into his berth and closed his eyes. He’d apologize to Edward in the morning.
Out on his branchline, Edward rolled along the well-travelled path towards Brendam Docks. He was a bit irritated but for the most part he was just tired. He had really left to take the train for the sake of peace and quiet, both for himself and for those in the sheds.
Porter and Cranky were very surprised indeed to see Edward chuff into the docks. They had been expecting James, the usual backup when Henry was gone.
“Are you here to take the Kipper, Edward?” Porter asked, watching the older engine yawn with some concern, “What happened to James?”
“You know how he hates trucks.” Edward carefully backed up to the trucks, “I thought I’d take the train. If it doesn’t stop him complaining, at least I don’t have to listen to him for awhile.”
This was valid point, but Porter was still worried. The Flying Kipper was a long, rather heavy train, which is why it was normally pulled by Henry. Edward was so much older, and smaller than even James was.
“I’ll be fine,” Edward reassured, correctly reading the expression on Porter’s face. He had long since gotten used the others doubting his abilities due to his age, though it was always a little annoying. One of the dock workers coupled him up, then gave his crew the thumbs up to let them knew they were ready to go. Edward strained to start the heavy train, face turning red from the effort, before pulling slowly out of the docks.
Once he overcame the initial friction and got the train moving it was easy, and the rails hummed under Edward’s wheels as he made good time rolling along the main line towards Vicarstown. With each stop the train got lighter as fish were unloaded, making it easier to start and stop the trucks. The mainline was, for the most part, fairly level without any sharp curves or turns. On the long stretches between stations Edward was able to get up to a fairly good speed. He was running well, perhaps better than in years, and with no other engines out on the rails there was no reason to stop.
Out in the Sodor countryside, scenery flew by in a black blur as he rushed along. The lamp on his buffer beam lit up the tracks immediately ahead, but the only thing illuminating the surrounding landscape was the occasional lit window from a distant farmer’s house. Neither Edward nor his crew could see that a tanker lorry carrying petrol had stalled at a crossing ahead until it was too late.
Edward’s brakes squealed and spat sparks as he tried to stop, but it was a futile effort. The heavy trucks behind him pushed him onwards, and he was going far too fast to stop in such a short distance.
Seeing that impact was inevitable, his crew jumped from the cab and hit the grassy ditch alongside the track rolling. Seconds later Edward slammed into the lorry, making contact just behind its cab. The large tanker ruptured with a tremendous explosion that sent an intense heat washing over the humans lying in the ditch and scorched the grass for yards. Large pieces of lorry were launched into the air, the cab going in one direction while the rear wheels departed in another. The force of the explosion knocked his front bogie from the rails, and the rest of the blue engine quickly followed. He was still moving fast and the trucks behind him forced Edward on as he tipped over onto his side, digging an enormous furrow into the ground before finally coming to a stop. Trucks piled on top of one another, momentum carrying them forward even after they had left the rails, sending fish and bits of trucks all over the trackside.
An eerie silence settled over the scene, punctuated only by the soft hiss of escaping steam and the quiet murmuring of the dazed trucks. Charlie Sand, Edward’s driver, sat up in the trackside ditch clutching his arm and looked around for the fireman. “Sidney? Sidney!”
“Over here!” Sidney Hever was a few yards away, looking at his clearly broken leg forlornly, “I don’t know if I’ll be moving, though.” He attempted to lever himself upright, but the pain was too intense for him to remain on his feet.
Charlie had, comparatively, gotten off easier. His right arm wouldn’t respond, which meant he had probably dislocated his shoulder, but he could still walk. “Here, lean on me. We’ve got to go check on our engine.”
Sidney leaned heavily on Charlie’s good shoulder, and together the two men made their way towards the crash site. Many of the trucks had settled on their sides, crates had been smashed and kipper lay in slippery piles. Edward’s tender had turned over as well, filling the ditch with water and coal. The engine himself was half buried in a great pile of earth, steam still hissing from his valves and cylinders as his driving wheels weakly attempted to turn. His leading bogie had nearly been torn from his frame and lay awkwardly on the ground. The wheels were packed with dirt from plowing through the ditch.
Both men gasped when they saw Edward’s face, or at least what parts of it weren’t covered in earth. It looked like he had been burned, the grey metal of his face was pocked and bubbled from the explosion, and metal shrapnel from the lorry had left long cuts in his skin. A large piece of steel was still there, lodged in Edward’s left eye. Driver and fireman had to look away, unable to handle the sight without cringing. They were very glad that he was unconscious and not awake to feel his injuries.
“You. You stay here with him. In case he wakes up.” Charlie gently lowered Sidney down to the ground. “I saw a farmhouse a little ways back, I’m going to see if I can get over there and use their phone.”
“Okay.” It wasn’t like Sidney had much of a choice. There was nothing to distract him from the throbbing pain in his leg as he sat there by the tracks and worried for his unconscious friend. Edward was the last of his kind, and Sidney had no idea how they would begin to repair him. He simply sat and prayed that the Fat Controller would be kind and not simply scrap the old engine.