Troublesome Trucks

Arc 17 Cinders and Ashes

The flames of the shed rose high, you could see the smoke for miles with the rising sun. By the time that the fire department showed up, there was no saving the building. Some of the little western engines came to clear the yards, as to not let the flames spread. Daniel and the Jays had left long before. Amongst all the panic, I couldn't help but feel as though I had failed my mission. Yes I had learned of the stories of extreme judgement and punishment, hell I've done the very same, but what now? Once you reach your goal, the one thing you've been building up towards, what do you do after that?

The Fat Controller arrived shortly after the yards were evacuated. After an inspecting the scene, he shook his head. "Such a shame." 

His attention turned to me and other trucks, who'd been graffitied. His face reflected a deep annoyance. "One of you must've seen what has happened. Speak now or may the police question you one at a time?"  

"It was that Blue Jay gang sir," I said, "I saw them sneak in late last night." The Fat Controller's gaze fixated on me, 

"And why didn't you call for help?" My face turned childish and shy, "I was scared sir, I didn't want to get torched too." I said. The Fat Controller let out a deep sigh. "I understand, very well then." he turned and walked away.

From there, time seemed to just fly by. I was brought down to Knapford, reorganized and sent to the mainline accident at Maron. The mess had been cleared but new ballast and tracks needed to be laid. We stayed there overnight just to get the necessary amount of ballast down. 

On the second day Edward came to help. He showed great concern for me, for which I was grateful but my mind was in a million other places thanon Sodor. No matter how Edward tried to ask me about the fire, I couldn't emote. Which in the long term was beneficial, but still. It was now, that the weight of the sins I had undertaken came flooding back to me. Not only that, but the fear of me getting found out, what kind of punishment awaited me, and the reality of our sad little existence came crashing down all at once. Overwhelmed, once the water works started, they didn't stop. The workmen, other trucks, and Edward were caught off guard. Edward took it upon himself to take me back to Wellsworth for a private chat.

There we both sat, Edward never raised his voice, but offered his company. He didn't leave my side, not after my tears had dried up, not after I asked to be left alone, he wouldn't give up on me. Damn him for that.

After sitting in the sheds together for a good hour or so, the sun began to set. 

"I'm sorry." I whispered, Edward was confused. "Sorry for what?" 

I caved, "The fire was because of me." I choked, Edward grew more puzzled. "How?" 

Inside, I had to confess something, anything. But there was something deeper within my being that just wouldn't let me give up so easily. It must be the rebel within me. 

"When the Blue Jays came and started vandalizing, I tried to convince them to leave. They threatened to torch me unless I shut up. I did, so they decided to burn the shed down instead, there was a truck inside. HE'S DEAD BECAUSE OF ME!" I shouted through flowing tears. 

"No." Edward interrupted, "It's not your fault. That truck, whoever he was, is dead because of those terrorists. You are not to blame, George. Don't feel at fault for the actions of others." He comforted. Sniffling, I took several deep breaths, cleared my eyes of tears and offered a genuine smile, "Thanks Edward" I said meekly.

We returned to the job a half hour later. Edward had really put things into perspective for me. 'I' didn't kill Scruffey. As far as anyone is aware, the Jays killed him. After the last of my ballast was offloaded, I was shunted onto a line of empties. We all had blue graffiti and emblems painted onto us. I decided to take the opportunity to rest. Eventually I drifted off to sleep, satisfied that such a weight had been lifted off of my conscience.