Chapter Text
Duke rolled silently along the line. Thoughts swirled about in his smokebox.
He and Bertram had been awake for a little longer after the other engines had fallen asleep. Duke had watched him closely.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” asked the old engine. Bertram sighed.
“No hiding anything from you, eh? … well… the engine went after me a few times… used to chase me into mines and then block up the exit with trucks so I couldn’t escape… a couple times he tried to push me off the rails… one time he charged at me with a line of trucks in front of him… if a workman hadn’t changed the points he would… he would… well…”
“He would have hit you,” murmured Duke, his boiler pressure rising. Bertram could only mutter a quiet ‘yes’ before he shut his eyes tightly and tried to fall asleep.
Now Duke had to do something about the engine haunting his friend. He wandered along the line, juddering every-so-often to knock coal down off his tender and into his firebox. It was in no way a good system for keeping a steam engine running, but it worked well enough to keep him moving. All the jolting opened his injector too, so he was able to keep on moving all the way to near the New Iron Bridge.
There, he forced his regulator closed and stopped just a little way from the bridge. The mist began to rise. The moon was full, and every little sound echoed through the gorge.
Suddenly, there was a loud hiss of steam from behind Duke.
“Hello there,” sneered the voice. “You aren’t Bertram.”
“No. But perhaps you remember me just a little better.”
The voice snarled.
“You! You were shut in that shed. I watched you get shut in there! How did you escape?”
“The Thin Clergyman and some friends saved me. But that isn’t what is important. Why are you haunting this line?”
Fireflies began to coalesce in front of Duke, halfway across the bridge. They flickered together, joining up into the shape of a steam engine. They gazed at Duke for a moment, before glowing brighter, the buzzing bugs forming into solid steel and creaky wheels.
The red-eyed engine glared at Duke. Duke calmly stared back.
“So, I was right. It was you,” murmured the old engine. “A spiteful engine born of hate and unable to let go, even in death.”
“And you, an engine well past his expiry date. A haughty engine born of pride and unable to change, even if it gave another engine a chance.” Duke raised an eyebrow.
“Is this about Stanley, because his choices were his alone, as were the manager’s.”
“No. You got the best parts! You got all the care and attention! You, and Stuart and Falcon and Bertram. We languished. They didn’t take care of us.”
“You abused and tortured everyone on your railway!” snapped Duke. “You were a pathetic excuse for an engine in life, and now you are nothing but a pathetic excuse for a ghost!”
“How dare you!” hissed the red-eyed engine. He rushed forward, screeching to a stop just in front of Duke.
Now the old engine could see the madness, the hell, gleaming in the ghost’s eyes. The air grew frigid, patches of ice spreading out from where the ghost engine stood. It latched onto Duke and dragged him out onto the bridge.
“So, this is where you died then?” asked Duke. He looked around, taking note of everything around him.
“Yes… and no one ever came to save me. Too busy caring for their special little Bertram. He gets to listen to stories and learn poetry while I got drunkards and dangers. It wasn’t fair!”
“You drove your crew to the drink, and you were the only danger on the railway. I should have acted while you were alive, but you kept everyone around you in fear. You inflicted trauma on others, and you continue to try and ruin lives from beyond the grave!”
Duke was glaring at the red-eyed engine now, the full fury of the old engine directed to the ghost.
“I know where you lie – I can see it! The ripped sleeper on the old bridge, the rust bleeding into the marsh – you were buried deep in the sludge where no one wished to look. None of the cranes could reach you then – but they could now. You could have been given the end you never deserved! But instead, you attacked my friend and wrecked half the line with your boulder stunt! No! You stay down there, you rust and rot! You don’t deserve a proper scrapping, you never did!”
The red-eyed engine screamed in rage and charged at Duke. The old engine glared, and put every ounce of steam into his whistle.
“Begone ghost! By the power of his Grace, I send you back to where you came from!” he roared, whistling as hard as he could. The sound blasted through the hills.
An intense chill smashed through Duke… and then nothing. The mist cleared, the shape of the engine faded back into fireflies and the shrill whistles faded into nothing.
Duke took a few deep breaths, then nudged his reverser and regulator open, rolling back along the line and off the bridge. But he was almost out of steam, and only just reached the safety of solid ground before he ground to a halt.
He looked around, then sighed.
“Goodbye… Smudger.”
Then, Duke fell fast asleep.
***
Bertram awoke to sunlight flooding in through the ajar shed door. His eyes snapped open.
“Where’s Duke?!” he gasped. There was no sign of the old engine.
Quickly, Rusty and Mavis awoke, and Rusty set out to look for the old engine.
He hurried down the line, followed closely by Bertram, who was pulling the waste trucks.
“It’ll be alright,” they chorused over and over, trying to calm the frantic steam engine.
They reached the New Iron Bridge, and found Duke sat right in the centre of it. He was dozing in the morning sun, but otherwise alright.
“Duke!” cheered Bertram. “Oh thank goodness!”
“Bertram!” yelped Duke, being startled awake. Then he realised where he was. “Well… touché. So long as you never return, I will help you find peace I suppose.” He looked back to Rusty and Bertram. “Could either of you bring a crane? I believe that I may just have the solution to this ‘ghost’ problem.”
Rusty agreed quietly, and left to get the crane. Bertram stayed to pull Duke off the bridge.
“So…”
“I spoke with him. I get the distinct feeling that this will be the end of our ghost problems… and perhaps once we scrap the remains of the old engine we can have a long chat over tea and biscuits.”
“How?” asked Bertram slowly.
“Driver and fireman can put teabags in our water tanks and through biscuits into the firebox, I’ve done it before.”
Bertram agreed, and headed on his way.
Duke got given the task of retrieving the rusted husk of the red-eyed engine, then it was carted off and taken away to be scrapped. After that, there were no more whistles, no more glowing red-eyes and no more sudden chills. The mists cleared up from around the New Iron Bridge, and there were no more sightings of the ghost engine.
For many of the engines, with the removal of the husk came the end of the story, and over time it faded into myth, then legend. But Rusty, Mavis, Bertram and Duke never forgot.
But, one wonders if the ghost really left… don’t you?