Sir Handel was dragged into the works by the diesel who worked there. The latter looked at the little engine and tutted audibly, before letting the workmen do their thing. Duke was there too, getting his usual selection of vitamins, shots and craziness-dampening cream. Sir Handel, not for the first time, wondered why he was stuck down here with the senile old engine while the others got to have all the fun at the new quarry.

"The hell happened to you?" asked Toby, who was taking Bertram back to the Skarloey railway so that he could get a bit of interaction for once.

"Erm, bad rails! That's it! Terrible stuff, really! The Fat Controller should-" There was a loud ping.

"Sir Handel is apparently 45% alcohol at this point in time!?" This made Toby crack up. "God, you're somehow worse than Gordon!"

"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or not!"

Toby chuckled. "All right. Bertram, I'll be back tomorrow, got it?"

Toby left in a good mood, as Sir Handel was hoisted up to be properly looked at.

Bertram and Duke's eyes met.

There was silence. Nothing stirred.

Bertram swallowed and tried to wet his lips. Duke's eyes narrowed, sensing that there was...something there to be recognized.

But neither engine made a move.

The other little engines, by the by, were cleaning up the railway of all the refuse that had been left there, such as leaves or branches. Rusty had finally snapped and told them all that if they wanted a nice clean railway, then a certain little diesel engine would need a lot more help than they were currently getting. On top of that, there was still work to be done at the Quarry with a Penis in the Mountain, as it was now being called unofficially.

Peter Sam and Rusty, as they were good friends, often worked together in cleaning away the mess. This was while Sir Handel was consigned to working in the yard and getting drunk. It was hard work, for Peter Sam had somehow managed to become friends with each individual stick and given them names, but Rusty was confident that they could handle him.

On this day, the little diesel helped him to a water tower. "Okay, so I'll be back later, all right? Try not to die." And they whistled- I mean, honked their horn goodbye.

Peter Sam felt much better after his long drink but the trucks once again began to do their thing.

"Let's break away!"

"Yeah, that's never backfired before!"

"Shut it!"

The couplings were, you guessed it, old. Really, this railway is going downhill because they don't constnatly refresh the couplings of the trucks. Then, as Peter sam blew his whistle, the one closest to Peter Sam snapped.

"HURRAH!" shouted the trucks.

"Oh that's not good!" said the driver.

"Why yes, Id love to pull the royal train!" said Peter Sam, in his own little world.

The trucks rattled down the hill, going faster and faster. Unfortunately, only one truck could read the sign ahead. 'SLOW. STEEP BENDS AND RAVINE AHEAD'. And even more unfortunately, that was the truck up front who had no brakes and no way to stop his idiot friends from pushing him on and on and on. "OHHHHH WHY DO WE DO THESE THINGS!?" He wailed.

They got about three quarters of the way across the old bridge before they smashed into an awkward part of the track. The trucks stopped laughing and started screaming as they were swung over the other side into the nasty quagmire below.

As Peter Sam arrived on the scene of the accident, the driver groaned. "This was our fault! We didn't secure them properly! We'll have to get help to pull them out, and the Fat Controller is going to be very annoyed!"

"Yes, but is it really our fault?" The fireman asked. "I mean, if you think about it, the shunter is the one who fastened the couplings, and he knows more about it than we do. And, for that matter, it's not as if all those sticks and such were going to be doing anything apart from helping IKEA out a bit more, were they? So in a way, he should be thanking us for all the good work we've done in removing these sticks from the path of engines and returning them to mother nature!"

He did not, in case you are wondering. Later that night, Peter Sam had to listen to a long lecture from Hatt, as both Rusty and Duncan wondered if perhaps Sir Handel wasn't lucky.

"You will shunt trucks in the yard until I can trust you again!"

"Sir, aren't you overreacting just a tad-?"

"SHUT UP, RUSTY!" And off Hatt stormed. Peter Sam was very sad. Duncan, of course, had no sympathy for anyone's feelings, as per usual.

"Fancy no' securing yon trucks on tha hill! Ye pleb! They'll back and haunt ye and that special bleedin funnel til yer dying day! OOOOOOOOOOH!"

"You're an idiot." Rusty said, bluntly.

"Anyway, who says that you're not afraid of ghosts?!"

"PAH!"

"How original."

"Ghosts!? Things that go bump in the night?! Rubbish!"

"That's certainly an unique theory. But I shall tell you a story that shall make your funnel quiver! And other bits that are unmentionable!"

"Ye don't have to."

"Tough, I'm doing it.

A long time ago-"

"How long?!"

"Hush, Peter Sam. A long time ago, Proteus was returning home to...wherever the hell home was, I guess. Twas a misty and moonlit night, as they often are for some reason on this Island. As the engine crossed the old bridge, he lost control and fell off the side into the swamps below-"

"I swear this is what happened to Sir Handel a wee few days ago!"

"He was NEVER found again!" Rusty insisted. "And even to this day, workmen say that on a misty night when the moon is full, you can see his ghost, trying to reach home, but never succeeding! So, what do you think of THAT, Duncan?"

There was a pause. Then Peter Sam started screaming in terror, while Duncan loudly scoffed. "PAH! PAH I SAY, AND ONCE MORE, PAH! These are the same workmen who take a barrel of diesel oil up the mountains just ta get high! I dinnae trust what ye're saying, ye silly old diesel!" And off he puffed.

"Oh dearie. Never mind Peter Sam, he'd be frightened if he saw a ghost...please stop crying. Oh this is just great. How is that when Skarloey tells these kinds of stories he gets away with it!"

The driver saw an opportunity to bring 'Let's Make Duncan Suffer' Day even closer. "Let's play a trick on Duncan!"

The next morning, Rusty's driver spoke to the crew of the Yellow Peril, who agreed. "Sounds like a blast! And it'll save us from actually having to be responsible for him! We'll scare him straight tonight!"

Throughout the day, Duncan was put on slate duty. This meant taking the slate trucks to the quarry, and then bringing them back again to the QIP (Quarry in Progress). Now, normally such a job would make Duncan happy, as he was out of the way of any passengers or people to make him angry. But he had slept badly, and the idea of crossing the old bridge was not one he faced with glee. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself.

"Haunted bridge?! PAH! It's as tame as a pet rabbit!" Duncan had never owned a rabbit, so he didn't know what he was missing out on.

Even so, he couldn't help thinking o Rusty's story. And how perhaps he should attempt a Liverpudlian accent from time to time, just to see the reactions on the faces of the other engines.

Dusk soon fell, and he was keen to leave. "If we don't leave soon, Skarloey'll get mah best shed, and I'll have ta deal with Rheneas's snoring ALL NIGHT. Man, can he snore!"

"We can't go back until we've collected all the trucks. Hehehehehe." laughed his driver. Duncan didn't see anything wrong with this. After all, his driver always laughed madly after dealing with him for a few hours. But the driver saw that the plan was working. Duncan was growing more and more nervous. He wondered briefly if this was a nice thing to do. Then he dismissed those ideas. Clearly this would fix Duncan's problems once and for all!

Elsewhere, Bertram and Duke's intense staring matched intensified even more so.

When night fell, Duncan set off with a line of slate trucks. For some reason, they lacked a brake van. Some say that was because the guards had sodded off back to the safety of Crovan's Gate, where all they had to put up with was a high on pain-meds Sir Handel and Bertram scaring the crap out of Duke with his furious staring.

Luckily, the moon was full that night, and the mist was once again pouring in. This was incredible luck, and no one was quite sure if the plan worked as well if those things were removed.

Duncan whistled, and the sound echoed everywhere. There was nothing else, nobody else around, except for him, the trucks and his crew. It was at this point that the yellow engine wondered if perhaps his favorite spot in the shed wasn't worth this hassle.

He was halfway across when suddenly, he veered sharply to a stop. It was as if the very marrow in his 'bones' had frozen him to the spot. He stared in horror as strange lights flickered and danced together, just as they lights began to take the form of a yellow engine, his driver dropped a rock that he had been keeping for just such an occasion into the swamp below.

Somewhere in Crovan's Gate, the three engines were sleeping peacefully. Duke had temporarily forgotten trying to suss Bertram out, and were now just gratefully getting some sleep.

And then a bellowing awoke them up.

"OH MY LORD IT'S THE GHOST IT'S THE GHOST AAAAAAARGH IT'S THE GHOST TAKE ME BACK PLEASE OH GOD I HAVE SO MANY REGRETS!"

The three of them stared at each other in bafflement.

"The hell was that?" Bertram remarked, at last.

"You're new here, give it a few months and this will seem like second nature to you." Sir Handel grunted.

Duncan backed off to the slate quarry and shut himself in the shed, refusing to come out.

"Spooked, are you, Duncan?"

"NO YE BASTARD I'M ASLEEP!" And he refused to open his eyes for the rest of the night.

He did once though, when he thought no one was looking.

Just to make sure that he was still there.

P.t. Boomer jumped a mile in the air. He looked around. "W-who's there!?"

"Do not be alarmed, my friend. I mean you no harm." The voice was soft, gentle...very persuasive. Every syllable seemed to be drenched in honey and sprinkled with sugar. Boomer seemed to suddenly relax, though he wasn't sure why. "There now, do not fear. I merely wish to talk to you...Mr Boomer. Oh yes, I know your name. Or what it will be. Would it surprise you the things I know?"

"Try me."

Boomer shook himself. "Show yourself."

"Would that I could. Alas, I can teach you things Lady could never do."

"Oh yeah?."

"No, I agree. Because I've seen where it ends. Dead end, hitting the buffers, nowhere to go to but back. But with me, I can give you all the power you need. You can rewrite the entire world if you wish."

"...The entire world?" Pete looked at a old photograph. "Anything I want?"

"Anything your heart desires."

Boomer smirked. "I can't wait."

"And there...we...go!"

The roar was louder than that of twelve jet engines going off at the same time. The sound barrier shattered, Lady's eyes snapped open in horror, and she quickly rushed forward.

There was Ghostly engine, he had two coaches, a box car and a brake van behind him.