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One day, the Pack was helping clear up damage from an Autumn storm. Kelly was helping lift fallen branches which were then cut up into pieces, ready to be taken to the lumber yard. Oliver was once again helping around the railways, now joined by Alfie, Max and Monty. The other machines didn’t have much to do, but were told to be on standby in case their help was needed. This proved true when the Foreman came rushing out of his office.
“Nelson! Take Byron to Wellsworth! The roads near the town are blocked, they need to be cleaned up.” he said.
“On it,” yawned Nelson as he got his trailer ready. The workmen got Byron ready, and he was enjoying the attention immensely. If this were a few months ago, he’d have made remarks about his grandeur, having the fate of an entire town at his blade. But now, he was strangely smiling and silent.
“I don’t even recognize him…” grumbled Patrick, annoyed at having become the resident grump after Byron mellowed out.
“I like it,” chimed Buster. “He tells me to hurry up only once or twice a day now.”
“Those youngsters are having an effect on him, man.” drawled Ned. Jack blushed. He remembered how Patrick actually went to get his eyes checked after seeing Byron’s rhumba.
Byron tried to drown out the praise. He knew himself well enough to know that if he let it get to him, he’d become insufferable, and all the machines would hate him again.
Soon, Nelson was ready, and he and Byron set off towards Wellsworth. Like the Foreman had said, they couldn’t enter the town, as a large pile of debris and other rubble blocked the road.
“This should be easy!” rumbled Byron as he rolled off Nelson's trailer, who hurried back to the yard. Byron revved his engine, warmed up his blade, and set to work.
He was as good as his word. That first heap was gone in a minute, which made traversing easier, but still difficult.
“Should we move the rest of this junk?” asked Byron’s operator.
“That’s why we’re here!” boomed the bulldozer. “This’ll be one of my finest.”
So they got to it, and ten minutes later, the road was almost clean. Byron could still see a fallen tree.
“We missed a spot!” he called as he raced over. He settled his blade as neatly as he could against the trunk of the tree, and began pushing. The tree rolled over immediately, and then there was trouble. Beneath it, was a massive puddle. It was deep too. The moment the tree was out of the way, Byron rolled into the puddle, which sank deeper under his weight.
“Buggering blades! I’m sunk!”
And he was. It was almost funny, in a way, having helped Alfie out of an eerily similar scrape not long ago.
His driver opened his doors, recoiled at the sight around him, and jumped off, only getting his shoes and trousers wet. Byron’s operator scratched his head.
“It’s going to be hard to get help,” he mused. “The telephone lines are down. We’ll start walking and see what we can do.”
The two men started their journey up the damp road, leaving the bulldozer on his own. No cars were around, and the railway was barely in view. Byron thought to himself.
“Would anyone even help me even after I’ve been such a jerk to them for all these years?”
Now, he was both physically and mentally sunk.
A friendly toot broke his train of thought.
“You make for a strange island!” chuckled Trevor as he slowed to a stop near Byron.
“What are you doing here?” asked Byron.
“The vicar and I are going to see if anyone needs help, and it looks like you need some.” replied Trevor as the vicar and Jem Cole got some rope.
“It’s no use,” weeped Byron. “I’m way too heavy for you…”
“Let’s see then,” smiled Trevor as the Jem made his way across the puddle to attach the two machines. Trevor blew his whistle, and tugged with all his might.
Byron was even more stuck than anyone had anticipated. Trevor pulled and pulled, but could only move the bulldozer a few centimeters forward. Still, he refused to give up. The vicar shovelled coal like his life depended on it, and Trevor was almost purple in the face. He gave one last tug, which snapped the rope.
“Told you,” sighed Byron, his eyes dropping to his blade.
“No worry, we’ve got plenty of rope, and the rectory isn’t far, we can go back if we run out.” said Trevor, being a bit more optimistic.
“It’s a waste,” moaned Byron.
“It isn’t!” argued Trevor, but he didn’t say any more, as his eyes caught something interesting behind Byron. Byron was about to ask what he was seeing, when he heard a familiar toot.
Jack, Isobella, Patrick and Nelson with Buster in tow rolled into view. Byron’s driver and operator stepped out of Nelson’s cab.
“What a strange island!” laughed Patrick.
“Hey, that’s my line!” frowned Trevor.
Byron would’ve loved to argue against the cement mixer, but he was so overjoyed at someone coming to his rescue that he could not bring himself to be negative.
“We’re here!” tooted Jack. “You’ll be out again soon!”
Byron was at a loss for words. “T-thank you…”
“Save it for after you’re free, alright?” said Isobella.
Byron obeyed. Buster rolled off Nelson’s flatbed, and parked next to Trevor, who’d switched his rope out for chains, courtesy of Isobella. The other machines lined up too. Jem Cole ran back and forth attaching every chain to Byron.
“On the count of three, pull!” he announced. “One, two, three, PULL!”
It didn’t even take a minute. The moment Jem uttered those words, everyone gave a mighty heave, which was enough to get Byron free from his puddle.
“Hooray!” they all cheered. Byron was happiest of all.
“Thank you for saving me.” he said in an unusually thankful voice. “I don’t know why you even bothered after I’ve been so rude to you all.”
“It’s simple: you’re improving. Kelly even says so.” smiled Isobella.
“Like they say, it’s water under the bridge!” tooted Jack.
“A bridge we’re still building, but a bridge nonetheless,” remarked Patrick. Buster was confused.
“Don’t bridges have water under them all the time?”