But as Edie turned the corner she gasped in disbelief. “Look!” A bright white sheet was hanging from the thorn trees on the bank.
“It’s as if it’s been sent by an angel,” she cried. White was about the only colour that would show up in this dreadful weather.
“It’s only a bed sheet!” said Gus. “It must have been blown off someone’s washing line in the storm.” But as Edie reached up to pull it down from the thorns, she saw that it wasn’t a sheet at all. The material was slippery in her fingers, like silk.
Gus stretched out his hand and felt it too. “It’s a parachute,” he said. “From the plane.”
Edie’s mind was whirring, but there was no time to think of anything but stopping the train.
“Have you got a knife?” she asked, tugging at the fabric with her teeth and trying to rip it.
“No,” said Gus. “I’m wearing my pyjamas, remember.”
“Try the coat,” said Edie, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her mackintosh too. But there was nothing.
Gus shook his head. “Empty.”
The parachute was huge. “We have to tear it into strips somehow,” said Edie. “Or we won’t be able to wave it.” She tried desperately to rip it against a sharp thorn poking out of the tree, but it was no good. All she did was prick her fingers.
“I’ve got a better idea!” said Gus. He started pulling the parachute free from the trees and dragging it back along the line. “We can use the jagged metal on the wreckage,” he panted. “We can cut it on that.”
“There isn’t time,” said Edie, but she started dragging the parachute too. There was nothing else for it.
Gus was right. As they snagged the fabric back and forward across the sharp edges of the wreck, it frayed and tore. Soon Edie was able to rip it into rough untidy squares. Although her fingers were shaking, it felt good to be doing something useful – just like getting ready for the air-raid warnings in London. At least they had a plan. It helped to still her panic just a bit.
“Run,” she said, gathering bundles of white material in her arms. There were only minutes left but it was no good unless they were round the corner, on the long straight stretch where the train could see them and had time to stop. Gus sprinted off but, in her haste, Edie dropped half her pieces of fabric and turned back to pick them up. She crouched down, gathering them into her arms.
As she straightened up again, she screamed. A pale figure was standing over her in the drizzle.
For a moment she thought it was Perky’s ghostly signalman – except this figure still had his head. He was wearing a flying helmet and a boiler suit.
“Schnell,” he said. “Schnell, bitte!”
“German,” gasped Edie. “Of course.” He was from the plane. He must have used the parachute to bail out before the crash. She wanted to run, but all she could do was stand frozen on the spot as the airman stretched out his hands towards her. She flinched, sure that he was going to hurt her. But he tried to grab the squares of material from her instead.
“Thief!” cried Edie. “Get off.” She stamped on his toes, her arms flailing wildly with panic. Perhaps he wanted to surrender, and needed to wave a white flag. But he couldn’t take the strips of material from her. Not now. She needed them to stop the train. She struggled and pulled against him like a tug of war.
After only a second or two the airman let go and scrambled up the bank above her.
“Gus!” she yelled. “Help.” Gus came running back along the track.
“He’s German,” cried Edie, pointing to the airman. “What do we do? He’s getting away.” She was sure they ought to try and take him prisoner, but there was no time.
“We have to save the train,” said Gus desperately. “There’s less than five minutes.”
He was right. She thought she could hear a distant rumble chugging towards them already.
She glanced up at the bank. “Oh, no!” The airman wasn’t running away at all. He had pulled a young tree up by the roots and he was swinging it above his head like a cudgel. “He’s going to attack us,” she cried.
“Nimm den,” he bellowed. “Eine Flagge!”
Gus scrambled up the bank and grabbed a stick of his own.
“Don’t!” screamed Edie. “For goodness’ sake, Gus. Don’t fight him. He’ll kill you.”
But the airman didn’t hit Gus with the young tree. Instead, he threw it down the bank and began pulling others from the ground.
“Flagpoles!” shouted Gus and at last Edie understood.
Gus tossed her a long thin stick and she tied two corners of one of the ragged squares of parachute to it, then she dug it into the wet ground like a flag at the side of the tracks.
Gus did the same. All the while, the German airman was helping them.
At last, there was a line of wobbly flags along both sides of track. Edie and Gus still had one each. The airman took a flag too.
Edie smiled at him, wishing she had the words to thank him for everything he had done.
“Ready?” Gus leapt across to the far side of the track.
“Ready!” Edie’s voice was barely more than a croak. She raised her flag. The chug of the train was louder now and she could see the smoke above the trees. She felt sick to her stomach. They had just one chance to stop it, or the train would smash into the wreckage on the line taking all its carriages with it and people would be killed for sure.
“Ja. Rea-dy!” said the
