A reversion is where someone returns to a previous state, practice or belief...
***
Fog loomed across the early morning sky. It blocked the yellow sun, with its light trying to pierce through the thickness. Only to fail. A smaller light gleamed into the fog, trying to cut through itself, but it too failed miserably.
The one having it sit on its running board was a tank engine, a dirty, old tank engine that puffed across the countryside. A long mix-goods some might say he couldn't have managed. But he did. The tank engine's dirt and grime covered him all over, he had not been given a good cleaning in a while. Thankfully, his black paint didn't show the full picture of it, with only a British Railway cress-mark on each side of his large tanks and a number painted in what used to be bold white on each side of his bunker. Now they could be barely seen.
The tank engine yawned as he puffed through the countryside, nothing in his way, nothing could be seen.
It was peaceful for the tank engine. He enjoyed running through the countryside and not having anything distract him.
But it wouldn't be for long.
A loud, piercing whistle was heard through the fog, coming the other way. The tank engine grunted at the sound. He slowed a bit when hearing it and closed his eyes. "Ow," he said.
"Is anything the matter Noah?" asked the driver, concerned for his engine.
"Yeah, yeah," said the tank engine, "I'm fine, no need to worry about me."
Opening a tired, brown eye, Noah looked into the fog. He squinted to see if he could see an engine. At last, he heard the clattering of an engine, puffing fast towards them. The squeaking and groaning of trucks could be heard too.
Eventually, a shadowy figure appeared through the fog. A few seconds that Noah registered the figure coming from the fog, and it finally came out of it.
Noa's eyes widen in shock and disbelief when he saw the engine.
The engine looked gruff and had a hard look on its face, carrying a big, bushy beard that looked unkempt. It didn't look at the tank engine passing by and only stared hard ahead; no movement of the eyes whatsoever. Its paint was dirty and grimy as Noah's, but what the tank engine could see on his tender made his eyes freeze on it.
R.O.D.
Suddenly, the engines wheeshed past, the clattering of black vans followed and a bright red cross across each of them was seen through their dirty appearance. Noah braked hard, his eyes closed tightly. He felt the train behind him bash into him and push him forward, but he was strong and slowed the train down quickly. The sounds of the engine whistling grew louder and louder, piercing into his smokebox and the vans rattled and clang.
There was a sudden bang and Noah's wheels locked on him. He came to a screeching stop. Noah gasped and breathed heavily. "Wooaah old boy," called his driver, "are you alright?"
The engine opened his eyes and then saw nothing. The fog was still thick and showed nothing, but there was no train, no R.O.D. engine, no screaming whistle. Noah calmed himself and his brow furrowed in confusion, then he realised what had happened.
"Sorry sir," he replied, "thought I saw something on the line."
The driver shook his head, putting it back into the cab. "Best continue on then."
As the tank engine started up, he began to breathe steadily and tried to keep it that way.
***
The sun was higher in the sky later that morning, the fog had finally cleared, and only a few clouds were above, with a chunk on one side of the busy town. Cars and people bustling about in the markets further in, whilst the trains nearby ran smoothly across the tracks, passengers and goods alike, with shunting tank engines shuffling the rolling stock around the sidings. Noah shunted a few wagons into place, a second train he was about to take back, he rested once completing his train, he took a deep breath and sighed.
"Hey, Noah!"
The tank engine looked over to see two other engines, just as dirty as he was in BR black liveries, or what could be seen of them. One was a USATC S160, and the other was an SR Q1, both sitting nearby him. Cheerful faces on their smokeboxs.
"Didn't expect to see ya here so soon!" called the S160, "what brings ya back here?"
"Some other engine broke down," Noah replied, "I said I could take the train in his stead, a bit of a heavy one for me, but I managed. Just."
"Never give up do you?" chuckled the Q1, "you should really think about yourself and not be so selfless!"
"He's a war engine though!" laughed the S160, "he's been in the second world war like me, fighting for what's right!"
"I was built for those times as well Max," smirked the Q1, he then looked over to the tank engine sitting nearby in the sidings, "besides, Noah can't even remember those times."
"Right! Amnesia," said Max, "forgot about that. But he does remember a few things... right? It has been over ten years for crying out loud!"
"Do you Noah?"
"Not much," Noah replied with a kind smile on his face, "only a few moments here and there. Everything before the works is really a blur to me still." The old tank engine then looked away, his smile fading slightly. "Perhaps it a gift," he continued, "some engines I have heard that survive have not had pleasant lives after those times at the front lines."
Both the S160 and the Q1 looked at each with concerned looks. "Sorry if we ever hurt ya, buddy," said Max.
"Yeah," said the other engine, "we only were being friendly."
"Oh don't worry, you didn't hurt me at all," Noah replied, his smile widening again, "I was just... thinking... that's all."
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"...Positively."
***
The sky was becoming darker, a dark blue was forming across the atmosphere as the fog began to return. The old tank engine pushed his final train of the day into a place, ready to head back with it. "Come on old boy," called his driver, "the line is going to be clear soon! Let's get you back so you can get that spot in the shed that you and that other engine always try and get before each other... what's his name. James was it?"
Noah chuckled. "No," he replied, "it's Joel."
As the driver returned to the cab, Noah began to wander off into his thoughts again. He focused on them hard. "James..." he said, the name swirled through his smokebox, taunting at him, it sounded so familiar... but what could it be? Could it be an old memory he had forgotten from the amnesia? The inspector did say he could his memories back eventually, maybe it would click now? But Noah wasn't so sure, it had been years, and there had not been any memories he could get from his previous life before the war.
But the name, James had never made him feel close to unlocking the truth. He scowled and cursed under his breath, he knew it was best to exhaust himself over such things, they had become irrelevant to him now. Figments of the past shouldn't consume him like they did when he first came out of the works all new and repaired.
Noah then headed back to his shed with a train of empty stock.
As he travelled, the night sky began to shine, and the fog became thick like it did that morning. The moon was weaker than the sun, no light was piercing through the fog except for Noah's lamplight, which showed him the rails and only a small area of which the fog allowed the tank engine to see through.
However, Noah's peaceful run would be halted when he heard the sound of something buzzing in the night sky. It grew louder and louder. "Hey? What's that?" asked Noah curiously.
"What's what?" called back his driver in confusion.
"That buzzing sound?" quizzed Noah, "is it a helicopter or an aeroplane? Airfield nearby?"
"Crazy old tank engine," chuckled the driver, shaking his head at the fireman, "there's no buzzing!"
Noah's brow furrowed in confusion, he looked around, but the mist blocked most of his sight. The buzzing was getting louder and louder, too loud for Noah's liking. He began to tense, the sound was so familiar now, it sounded like a plane more than a helicopter and it was coming towards them fast. Noah began to panic, it sounded like it was directing itself at them.
Then it happened. "Look out!" he cried, he wheeshed steam and the old engine and his crew were submerged into a puff of steam. The crew cried out in shock whilst Noah kept on wheeshing steam loudly. But he couldn't go on forever, and he was forced to stop unless he wanted his boiler to explode.
He did so, and couldn't hear anything except for the clattering of his wheels and the last remains of his puffs. "NOAH! STOP!"
Noah complied and braked hard and came to a stop. Now he sat there, silent, no steam left in him to move. His driver got out and went to his engine, a frown on his face. "What," he said flatly, "was that?"
"I--I--" stammered Noah, who was in slight disbelief, "there was a plane..."
"There was no plane!" snapped the driver, "you crazy! Stupid! Engine! Now you've got no steam! We'll be having to walk to the next signal box to tell the signalman that we'll be needing another engine to pick you up!"
He groaned in frustration, two fingers resting on the bridge of his nose, and then he turned to the fireman who looked at him from in the cab. "You," said the driver, "can go to the guard and ask him if he knows anything about this."
Then he began to walk up the line, past Noah and disappeared into the fog. The fireman got out and then walked the other way. Leaving the tank engine all alone.
At first, Noah didn't mind, he did not get scared so easily. He felt a little guilty about what had happened, but he was sure he heard a plane, how could he not? It felt so real to him.
After a while of sitting with his thoughts, Noah concluded it was most likely him just going crazy. Then he sat with his previous thoughts silenced, examining his surroundings. But as he sat alone, he felt more uncomfortable by the second. The mist was getting hard to see and the night was getting colder. Noah shivered lightly, his fire was out and the warmth in his boiler wasn't there. He hoped an engine was coming soon, he did not want to be here any longer than he had--
A shrill whistle was heard in the distance, one which made Noah's eyes stare into the fog with wide eyes. The whistle had a unique sound, one Noah had never heard before, but he was sure it was a whistle. The steady puffs of another engine clarified to him that it was another steam engine. Most likely coming to pick him up, but Noah then figured that it would be too quick for an engine to come to rescue him. His driver had just left a couple of minutes ago.
The engine got nearer and at last, a shape could be seen in the fog, and when they appeared from it, Matthew's brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. This was an engine he had never seen before. The shape was unique like their whistle, with a belpaire firebox, a fowler tender and six driving wheels following a front pony truck. Their boiler stood tall above their frames. Their nose was quite stumpy and round, with his big cheeks and large eyebrows. Their brown eyes stared at Noah, not coldly, but with warmth instead.
But what made Noah more confused was the livery, even though it was covered in dirt and soot, the engine had two big letters on its tender.
N W
And on their cab's sides was a large single-digit number.
5
The engine breathed heavily. "How are you?" he asked, his accent sounding strong from somewhere else, Noah quickly figured it to be from the north, Yorkshire most likely.
"Good thank you," said Noah politely, he did a breath examination of the engine again, "I'm guessing you're from the north. Why are you down here?"
Eyes narrowed at Noah. "You are from the north too," he said.
Noah raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "Sorry," he chuckled, "but I am not from the north, as you can see, I am an E4. From the Southern Railway."
The unfamiliar engine rolled his eyes. "You came from the LBSCR," he said, "but you had never worked for the Southern Railway."
Noah blinked wildly. "Excuse me?" he said, "you don't know me? How can you possibly--"
"You don't know yourself," retorted the engine, "any memories before the war?"
Noah opened his mouth to respond, but couldn't find any words, or any memories. He then closed his mouth and stared at the other engine. The engine stared back for a brief second then continued. "I know you more than you think," he said slowly, "I know that you don't belong here, I know that you have no memories. I know you are not Noah."
His eyes widened at the last part, Noah looked at the engine with a hard stare. "I think I know who I am thank you," he said.
"Says the engine with amnesia!" laughed the engine, "come on. You have amnesia, a condition from the war after an explosion was caused, killing your brother next to you and you being heavily damaged."
Noah didn't say anything, he only glared at the engine, not entirely trusting his words. "You then woke up from a deep sleep several months later," continued the engine, "you were told that you were this engine from the Southern Railway and told of your condition, then you went back to work in a different part of the SR without a second thought."
The engine then looked at Noah, with a pitying look crossing his face. "You were told this," he said, "but what they said... was all wrong."
Noah looked to his buffers. Was this random, strange engine you had just met, telling him that he wasn't Noah? He was Noah, he was the engine who was forced onto the front lines, the engine who survived the bomb when it fell next to him and his brother Matthew.
Matthew...
Noah knew it was one of his brothers who was killed next to him during the blast, but they never told him his brother's name. Why was remembering his brother's name now?
Seeing the reaction on Noah's face, the other engine smiled knowingly. "You are remembering now," he said, "I recommend taking it steady at first."
Noah blinked wildly, flashes of his past were coming back to him. He remembered working at the front lines with many engines, he remembered the sirens, he remembered shunting another tank engine away but his sight was then swallowed by fire and then pitch black. Noah closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them after stopping his mind go dizzy. He looked over to the engine and jumped in shock.
The engine wasn't covered in soot and dirt anymore. Nor was he painted black. The engine was painted in red now, with red and black lining. The number five moved from the side of his cabs to his tender now, replacing the NW letters. His wheels remained black and a shiny, brass dome reflected the fog. The engine's face was more visible now from all the dirt and now Noah could see a deep, dark scar going across the engine's left cheek.
The engine looked at Noah like nothing had changed, but Noah stared back in wild shock. "Are... are you... a ghost...?"
The engine smiled. "I'm the door to your memories," he said.
"What is your name?" Noah demanded.
"I will tell you to mine if you tell me yours."
Noah opened his mouth, ready to say his name, but memories flashed into his mind. He was now working at a port, with massive, military ships, wagons and flatbeds all organised. But then Noah realised it wasn't a port he had never seen before and then as more memories of the port flashed through his mind, he now saw that it wasn't a port, it was a military base. With soldiers all walking about and military vehicles all moving about. Whilst Noah's perspective was him shunting or pulling out or into this base.
He blinked, coming back to reality. "I'm... I'm..." said the E4, but he couldn't say the name he thought he was for so many years, there were too many memories of him somewhere else. And it was certainly not on the Southern Railway or the LBSCR. He looked up at the red engine who looked back with a raised brow, expecting something. But the E4 said nothing, his mouth closed and he looked off.
The red engine sniffed. "There you go," he said, "you're not Noah. You were never Noah, that was a mistake, an error in the documents. A lie you have been told for many years."
For some reason, the E4 felt like his silence was what the red engine was expecting now. He then looked back at the red engine. "But what is your name?"
"We made a deal."
"I didn't agree to it!"
"You were gonna say Noah though. Then poof! Stopped when memories came flashing back at you."
The E4's eyes narrowed at the red engine. Then the engine sighed deeply. "You might have forgotten your memories previously," he said slowly, "but they will eventually return to you slowly. And then you will learn of who you truly are and the lies you have been given."
Before the E4 could say anything else, the red engine blew his strange whistle, loud and long and then raced ahead down the track into the mist. "Wait!" called the E4, but it was no good, the mysterious engine had vanished.
Leaving the E4 all alone with his newly-found memories.
***
The driver soon returned a few minutes later, he didn't speak a word to his engine as he walked past and hopped into the cab, preparing for the E4 to be dragged off the rest of the way. But the E4 did not care about him, he probably didn't realise his driver had walked past him until the Schools class arrived and buffered up to him.
Because he was thinking about the mysterious engine that was painted black, then red. He kept replaying the memories in his head, they were stuck in his mind, loud and clear for the E4 to replay over and over again. It felt like he was reliving them all over again. Because he had lived to have these memories before. It wasn't until he realised that his name wasn't Noah at all, he had been living a lie, a world that wasn't his own, a place where he was an intruder to a dead brother's world.
With faint memories of an engine in different, bright colours. Blue, red and green. With large numbers on them. And their faces and shapes became clear to the E4, different and unique of them. The E4 said nothing, but a small, faint smile crossed his lips. He was glad his mind was allowing him to see his memories once again.
Because no Sudrian engine can forget their tales from that island forever, not even Matthew.