//------------------------------// // Reunion // Story: Lonesome Whistle // by Vauclains Understudy //------------------------------// Ironside lay sprawled out on the footplate of his engine. As if running over a little unicorn filly wasn’t bad enough, why then did it have to be the same filly he had recovered from the horrible train wreck he was involved in almost four weeks ago? His sub-conscience, however, was flashing rapidly back through the events that had unfolded back then. He remembered it all: the crashing of woodwork, the crackling of burning timbers, and the screams of those trapped inside the burning wreckage. His mind then flashed to him finding little Gallow Drop weeping over her dead parents and the sorrow that filled him from such a tragic scene. All the while, he lay perfectly still, supported only by the arms of Photo Finish. The fashionista gently lay down the engineer’s head onto the floor, then clambered down the steps and galloped towards the pilot of the engine. She approached the filly’s body, doubtful that anypony could survive a hit such as this. Nevertheless, she checked her for injuries, and almost became sick from revealing how wounded and bruised the little filly was. Any open wounds she had were bleeding profusely, so even if she was alive, she didn’t have much time left to live. Photo knew exactly what to do. She ran off into Ponyville as fast as her legs and dress would permit. Meanwhile, Applejack was hard at work assembling her apple stand to prepare for the day’s sales. With winter approaching soon, she knew that baked goods were sure to be in high demand, and any good farmer knew that apple baked goods were one of, if not the most popular. Already customers were lining up, eager to get their share of the produce before the lines got out of hand (or should that read, “out of hoof?”). The family farm’s harvest was especially high this year, so AJ wasn’t too worried about the line. There would be plenty of apples to go around. Photo Finish galloped into the market square just as Big Mac finished unloading the first of the apple carts he had brought with. She skidded to a halt to the left of the kiosk. “Miss… Applejack…,” Photo panted, “I have… need… of a… cart.” “Um, may I ask what for?” AJ inquired. “Incident… on… the rails,” Photo Finish responded, still short of breath. “Come again?” Applejack replied, her eyebrow rising. Photo pointed back towards the depot. Applejack squinted for a second, and then widened her eyes upon finding the limp form of Gallow lying between the rails. “Sweet mother of Celestia!” she exclaimed. “Big Mac, hitch Ms. Finish onto that empty cart you got there.” “Eeyup!” her big brother responded. Mac gingerly slipped the yoke of his neck and placed it around Photo’s. He then slipped the leather straps of the cart around each brass knob on the yoke. With a kick of dust, Photo hauled the heavy cart as quickly as possible back towards the depot. The conductor and passengers were now fully aware of the accident, and a crowd had gathered around the front of the locomotive. Most wore looks of resignation, believing that there was no way the little pony could have survived. Many mares were already wiping their eyes with handkerchiefs. When the conductor heard the sound of galloping hooves and saw Photo Finish approaching with the cart, he ordered the crowd to break in order to let her through. “Help me load her into the cart,” Photo ordered. The conductor and brakeman nodded in response. Gently, they nuzzled their snouts underneath Gallow’s body and lifted her off the tracks. Her blood dripped down their muzzles as they carried her over to the cart and lowered her in. One of the mares kindly offered the crew her handkerchief to wipe their faces off, which they thanked her for. With that finished, Photo ran off with her precious cargo in tow, bound for the hospital. Word of the incident spread quickly once the passengers reached town. Many headed over to the express, which still sat where it had been for the past twenty minutes. Others followed Photo Finish and Gallow to the hospital, eager to know whether or not the poor filly would live to tell the tale. Applejack watched Photo gallop past, cart in tow. She looked very worried, and rightly so. Drops of blood were falling off the back end of the cart, which actually discouraged many ponies from following Photo at all. Granny Smith approached her granddaughter. “Applejack, dear,” she said, “I’m going to see if that little filly will be alright.” “OK, then, Granny,” Applejack responded, kissing her grandmother on the cheek, “I’m off to see if Ironside’s OK.” She knew which trains Ironside drove, since he was the most called upon for express duties. “Should Big Mac and I take over the stand?” little Applebloom asked. “That would be much appreciated,” replied AJ. “We won’t let ya down, sis,” Big Mac responded. No one really heard Mac say much apart from his one-liner affirmatives and negatives, but come on, guys; do you really think that’s all he can say? In any case, Applejack made off for the express, leaving her siblings in charge of the stand. No one was in the mood for sales at the moment, though. All the ponies were concentrated on what would become of the wounded pony being wheeled to the ER. “Do ya think the little pony’ll be OK?” asked Applebloom, shooting her brother a worried look. Big Mac pulled his little sister towards him, nuzzling her. “I hope so, sis,” he replied, “I hope so.” Applejack approached 2398 and trotted around to the engineer’s side (the right side) of the engine. She climbed up the steps to the cab, setting her feet down on the sooty floor. It took her a second to find the recumbent form of Ironside, who was still lying on the floor. She gently nudged him with her hoof. “Ironside,” she whispered, “Ironside, you awake?” The colt let out a soft moan before opening his eyes. “Applejack?” he replied, “Where’s Photo Finish?” “She took the filly to the hospital,” said the voice in Ironside’s head. “Oh, that’s good,” Ironside replied softly. Applejack looked confused. “I didn’t even answer your question,” she stated. “I know,” Ironside said. “Then who did?” asked Applejack, looking around the cab. Ironside pointed his hoof to the backhead of his locomotive. “Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” the voice stated. “It’s OK, 2398,” Ironside responded out loud. Applejack stared at the colt. “Y’alright, hon?” she inquired, “It sounded as though you were talking to the engine for a second there.” “I was,” Ironside stated, “He and I talk to each other all the time.” Applejack looked at Ironside like he had just lost it. “Damn it all, Alex!” 2398 cursed, “Now she thinks you’re crazy!” “Don’t call me that,” Ironside countered out loud. He wasn't fond of being called by his real name. Applejack began to grow very concerned. She had seen this behavior from Ironside before, but she didn’t think that he was actually trying to converse with a locomotive. “Um, maybe y’all should head back to the roundhouse, Iron,” she said finally, “I think you should take the rest of the day off.” Ironside looked back to the bloodstained rails ahead of his engine. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he sighed. Applejack smiled at him. Maybe his idea that the engine was sentient was just because he was traumatized by the accident. “Shall I let the conductor know?” she asked. “Yeah,” Ironside replied. Applejack pulled Ironside into a hug. “Don’t worry, hon,” she whispered, “It’s not your fault.” Ironside began to softly weep into her shoulder. AJ pushed him back slightly and looked into his eyes. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Ironside wiped his eyes. “Why’d you have to say ‘It’s not your fault,’ AJ?” he replied, his voice breaking. “Aww, come here,” she said, pulling him back into her hug.