Book 3: Nia the Kenyan Engine
Chapter One: The Scrap Engine
In which Donald replicates a feat of Douglas'
Donald was very familiar with Barrow-In-Furness by night. His driver and fireman often joked that he didn’t even need the signals or the points to be able to find his way there. The idea had Donald in a roaring fit, which he tried to keep decently quiet for the sake of the locals (it wasn’t called the Midnight Goods for nothing). He and Douglas took turns to take the train so neither was sleep-deprived and cranky. Personally, Donald found the quiet, for lack of better wording, itchy, like bolts not done correctly. If he was silent for too long, he found his thoughts wander; either he would have the impulse to investigate dog breeds or be confronted with his past. He couldn’t help it. The silence was just itchy.
There was an upside in the form of Ava. Both twins assumed that she slept during the day as she took almost every night shift with the same energy that one would expect of a golden retriever. She had endeared herself to the twins and both had found themselves teaching her Scots. Usually, she was a very enthusiastic engine, greeting whomever it was with a blast of her horn. Donald received no such greeting as he pulled into the station.
Ava’s eyes were wild and skittish like a runaway horse, fixed on the darkest, shadowiest part of the yard. Her breath came in short, sharp heaves. The rails rattled with her wheels.
Donald’s brow furrowed. “Awright, wee lamb?”
“Oh, Donald!” She gasped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”
“Clearly.” Donald said. “Whit’s got intae ye? Ye look like ye've seen a ghaist.”
She looked like one too. Her face was pale and drawn. Her eyes briefly flicked to Donald then darted back to whatever she had been staring at.
“I-I think I have. There- There- There’s something over there.” She whispered.
Donald looked over. There didn’t seem to be anything. Nothing creeping or peeping out of the gloom.
Then came a faint, whispery “H-Hello?”
Ava squeaked and jerked back another foot.
Donald, now uncoupled, stared hard. Was there a tank engine in there? It wasn’t uncommon to find heritage engines near Sodor, but they didn’t normally hide. Nor did they sound so frail and frightened. He looked back at Ava.
“Right, Ah'll gang hae a keek, awricht?”
Donald chuckled. “Aye. Ah will."
Instict told Donald that shadows were dangerous. An enemy could come charging out of them. They could entange your family’s mind until they no longer knew who they were. He set his face in grim determination. Whatever happened, unless whoever here desperately needed help, Ava was his top priority. Donald pushed through the shadows to find an orange tank engine with black and green triangular patterns on her tanks.
“Oh, thank goodness.” The engine sighed. “I thought no one would come.”
Donald blinked. The years in the war had taught him a multitude of accents. He recognised this one as Kenyan.
“Guid grief, ye're far frae hame.” He said before he could stop himself. “Whit are ye daein’ here?”
The tank engine blinked as she processed what he had said. “M-My owner brought me from Kenya but he doesn’t have the money to keep me. He sold me for scrap.” She said dejectedly.
Donald’s heart immediately went out to this poor engine. Now that he looked, he could see the beginning of rust poisoning in her eyes. How he hated how fast that disease took hold. He glanced behind him as best he could. Smuggling a fellow engine across to Sodor was hardly unfamiliar to him...
“Donald!” Ava called, making him jump. “Everything okay?"
“Aye. Aw guid.” He replied. Then to the tank engine, “Ah'll be back.”
When he reached Ava again, the poor lass looked shaken and frightened.
“Nae. Just an engine in need o’ help.” Donald assured her. “Noo, hoo aften dis the watchman come oot tae check the yaird?”
Ava thought for a moment. “Every hour. Though this one tends to fall asleep.”
Donald’s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. 12:28. Good. He had time. He turned his attention to his crew. “Awright. Wilf, John, whilk o” ye is the better liar?”
“Me.” John, his fireman, replied sheepishly. Donald could picture him raising his hand like a schoolboy.
Shoving that aside, Donald told him to see if the watchman was actually asleep, and, if he wasn’t, to bluff him until he and Wilf had taken the engine far enough out of sight. He quietly steamed back over to the tank engine. He found himself glancing at her paintwork. It was quite something.
Focus, eejit. He told himself sharply. “Is there onybody else wi’ ye?”
“Right, come oan then.” Donald whispered with a grin as Wilf coupled them together.
It was a difficult one-man job. He had to keep an eye on where Donald, running tender first, was going and keep an eye on his fire. Thankfully, John met them at the base of the watchtower.
“Out like a light.” He said with a chuckle and climbed back into Donald’s cab.
The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon as they puffed into Vicarstown yard. Somehow, by some miracle, no one had come after them or seemed to care.
“Thank you.” The tank engine whispered grateful.
Donald chuckled softly. “Dinnae mention it. I wad hae done it for onybody.” He paused. “Ah niver got yer name.”
The other engine giggled. “I’m Nia. Can I know the name of my brave rescuer?”
Donald felt his pressure spike. “Donald.”
“Well, thank you again, Donald.” Nia smiled.
Donald found he couldn’t reply as he helped her into a secluded siding.
Donald threw himself into work all day. John and Wilf were finding his earlier pressure spike utterly hilarious. To Donald’s annoyance, they didn’t hesitate to tell Douglas, his driver Michael, and his fireman Gabriel. All three found it equally funny and kept making irritating remarks. It was a relief to be without them when Donald brought a goods train into Knapford in the afternoon.
“I just don’t know what we’re going to do.” The fat controller was saying to Emily, Edward and Gordon. All three Councillors’ expressions varied from confusion to downright indignant.
Gordon huffed. “Nobody has an engine free? It’s not exactly tourist season.”
“It’s coming up to Christmas though.” Edward said calmly although he looked as close to annoyed as he ever came.
“All we need is a shunter.” Emily put in.
A shunter, eh? Donald put his trucks away. He then puffed into the station.
“Ah micht be able tae help.” He said and explained what had happened.
When he finished, the fat controller said. “Well, Donald, this is a surprise. But very well, I’d like to meet this engine.”
Donald felt unexpectedly nervous as they approached the siding. Would the fat controller send Nia back? Unlikely, but neither he nor Donald knew her capabilties or what she had done on her old railway. Donald doubted she even had a driver or a fireman. She’d said there was no one else with her last night.
Nia perked up a bit as she saw them coming. “Oh, Donald! Have you spoken with your controller?”
“Indeed, he has.” The fat controller stepped from Donald’s cab. “Nia, was it? Can you shunt?”
“Yes, sir.” Nia said brightly.
The fat controller chuckled. “You’ll make a nice addition to my railway, my girl. Sodor has no shortage of people wanting to crew an engine. I expected we’ll find you a driver and fireman in no time."
Inspired by @agustinserrano62
https://www.tumblr.com/agustinserrano62/792230266768949248/scottish-twins-saving-friends-from-scrap?source=share
