Coal Town was a humble mining town which mined a good percentage of the region’s coal. It mostly consisted of shanties where the miners and their families lived, but there were a few small businesses as well, which usually closed after a couple years. One thing was for certain, if you grew up there you became a miner.

Flint was sitting outside the local café, watching to see if anyone passed by. It was the hottest part of the day, so very few people were actually out and about. He had just heard the train, so he knew that he didn’t have to wait much longer. With his keen eyes, he scanned up and down Main Street, watching to see if his nephews had arrived yet. He rubbed his injured arm, which was mangled in the crash. It still stung, but it was much better. Suddenly something caught his eye. He adjusted his cowboy hat and looked harder. There was no mistaking it.

"Krause! Ricky!" Flint called out. They all jumped a couple feet, and a smile broke Flint’s grim face. He carefully stood up despite his injured ankle. Ricky, Krause, and Boney were all running towards him happily. He was fortunate that his letter made it all the way to Einesville. There was a brief, joyful reunion, which consisted of excited and surprised shouts and hugs. After about a minute, they were all in the cool, dark café sipping root beers and ice cold cokes. Ricky spoke out first.

"The letter you sent us said we should wait here for a week. You said that you’d send another letter, but you’re here!"

Flint cleared his throat and rubbed his arm. He glanced around the empty café quickly, then began to speak in a lower voice.

"Yes, it did. The plans have changed more than slightly. It’s a long story, and contains things you’d never believe possible. But I swear that I made none of it up. You may not be ready for it…"

"Of course we are!" Krause said, slamming his glass of coke on the table.

"That’s what I thought," Flint said with a slight smile. He spoke lower again, "Now listen well. It may take quite a while…"

(Flint begins to tell his story)

"NOW."

The twins scrambled off into the smoke. Flint turned back around, slowly drawing his old aluminum baseball bat. He was ready all right… His eyes were fixed on the night sky, expecting the worst. Suddenly, a cold wind picked up and stirred the trees, blowing Flint’s trenchcoat about. He gritted his teeth and crossed his arms as the smoke blew into his face. He coughed a bit, and then he realized there was a light coming from all around him. His ears began to ring and it felt like his limbs were being stretched out, he wanted to yell, but he didn’t want anyone else to come. Suddenly the smoke and light cleared. Everything was fuzzy and Flint blinked several times. He was no longer in the woods by his house. Rather, he was in a small, empty concrete room sprawled out on the floor. He struggled to his feet and looked about. His ears began to focus and he heard annoying music all around him. Right in front of him there was a metal door with bars near the top. He got up and tried the handle. Naturally, it was locked. He looked through the bars and saw just darkness. He straightened out his cowboy hat. They had got him. Suddenly, he heard a hydraulic roar from underneath his feet. His stomach jumped as he felt the whole room rapidly moving upwards. He looked through the bars and saw lights flashing by at breakneck speeds. He was in an elevator. The roar beneath him grew louder and louder, until it finally began to die down. His stomach jerked back as it stopped. With a little "ding" the door slowly sunk into the floor and with a hiss, a cloud of smoke rolled in the room. The music stopped and the rattle of chains and the clicking of hooves were heard coming closer and closer. Flint felt that his baseball bat was absent, so he got sideways and put out his fists. He still didn’t feel like fighting, but he knew he would not go down without one. The smoke suddenly parted as a shiny, fat figure stepped into the room. Flint raised both of his eyebrows. Standing before him was what appeared to be a large pig wearing shining steel armor and a well-crafted helmet. In his right hoof, he somehow held a long sword encrusted with the letters P.O.R.K. He grunted something very glutteral, which sounded like "Get over here, Spanky!" Flint didn’t want to argue with this creature, no matter how funny it looked. The pig grabbed him and put the sword to his neck. He was led through the smoke and into a large, vaulted room. The walls looked like they were made of a sleek black metal of some sorts, with lights blinking all over it. The ceiling arched upwards into a dome, which had some sort of carving on it. Flint gaped in amazement, but then he felt the sharp sword across his throat and he continued walking. There was darkness up ahead, but instead of walking on into it, the pig stopped Flint with a close shave. He squinted ahead and wiped a little bit of blood from the side of his neck. Despite his sharp eyes, he couldn’t see a thing of what lied in front of him. The pig suddenly kneeled to the ground and snorted a bit.

"I’m not blind, you know!" a whiny voice called out from the darkness. There was a boom and blinding lights filled the area. Flint blinked several times, then saw that he was in some kind of throne room. Just twenty or so feet in front of him sat an enormous, hideous pig with a lopsided crown on his head on what appeared to be a very large and cool-looking metal chair filled with buttons and switches. On both sides of him stood a legion of pigs in shining armor standing perfectly still, each with spears and shields. Flint didn’t know whether to laugh or be disgusted. The pig on the throne stood up slowly and began to lumber over to Flint. He stood petrified, his mind racing with everything that had happened in the last five minutes. The swine walked around him several times, grunting and snorting.

"Hi, Flint!" he said in a high-pitched voice, "You don’t know who I am, but it won’t matter much. In a few minutes, you won’t even know what hit you, and you’ll be burning in- well…you’ll go to Heaven. Your existence is a problem we intend to fix."

The pig adjusted his crown and looked at Flint for a moment.

"Don’t you have any smart remarks?"

Flint’s head was down. He didn’t know what the hey all of this was about, but he knew he had to find some way to escape. A sudden blow to the side of his face interrupted his train of thought.

"Are you even gonna give me a smile? No? Are you gonna cry? Some warrior you are! Well, I’ll give you the honor of saying goodbye to your kids…whoops…I mean your wards…before your existence is snuffed!"

Flint suddenly perked his head up in horror. Had they gotten Ricky and Krause? He knew he shouldn’t try anything heroic. These pigs were evil and they outnumbered him by far.

"Still no talk?" the Great Pig said maniacally, "Your brother was the same way. He didn’t even scream when he was ejected into space! HAHAHA! What a world-class loser!"

"You’ve gotten me, swine," Flint said grimly.

"Good! I wondered when you’d talk. Now say goodbye to your whelps!"

The Great Pig’s smile broadened then faded into a scowl. He turned to one of his bodyguards and began grunting something. The bodyguard grunted something back nervously. The Great Pig’s eyes went wide with shock and slight horror. He snorted and squealed angrily at him, then jumped several times. He squealed a final time, sending his trembling bodyguard to his knees.

"Now where were we?" he said in English, turning around slowly. His face went a deep crimson and his eyes grew with fury.

"WHERE IS FLINT!?" he screamed, jumping up and down and swinging his hooves in midair. His poor bodyguard slowly oinked something out, then the Great Pig shouted, "All guards! Get to the hangar! Hunt that moron down, impale him, bring me his head, and you’ll all get a raise so big that it’ll blow your minds!"

The frightened pigs gave a saluting oink and ran towards the open hangar door.

Flint was running towards the end of the vast hangar filled with the weirdest aircraft he had ever seen. There were some on racks on the ceilings that looked like what had crashed into the woods. Most of them, however, looked exactly like the stereotypical silver flying saucer. Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks. He heard the clicking of many hooves. He knew this would happen, but he was still startled. Thinking quickly, he jumped behind one of the flying saucers nearest to him. The running stopped; then he heard some grunting. Knowing they were splitting up to look for him, he slipped further underneath the flying saucer, which seemed to be levitating. Sooner than he had thought, he saw feet running by. As they passed him, he gave a little sigh of relief. His relief was shattered when he heard a pig squealing not too far away. He did a diving roll out from his hiding spot and began to run toward the door. Flint heard a rush of air, and his hat flew off his head. With his lightning reflexes, he grabbed it. Had he been any taller, his head would’ve been skewered. Right as he was about to dash through the door, it slammed shut. He looked back and saw about a dozen pigs charging him, spears raised. His eyes darted and his mind raced. He saw that there was a funny-looking aircraft shaped like a red bean. Oh well, here goes nothing! Without any thought, he jumped onto it and kicked the hatch. It opened surprisingly easy. He scrambled inside, a spear grazing his leg. Inside the cockpit it was a little cramped, but there weren’t that many controls. There was a throttle and a few screens, but how did you turn it on? He frantically searched for some kind of ignition, but he was surprised to hear a friendly voice and a mechanical hum.

"Welcome to the Pork Bean! Choose autopilot or manual!" it said. Flint heard the pigs’ spears hitting the plane. He seized the throttle and pulled up. The Pork Bean flew upwards suddenly, jerking Flint backwards and leaving his stomach on the ground. He would have to get used to the loose controls if he were going to escape alive. Now if only he could find the bay door… He glanced down for a moment and noticed that the pigs were scrambling into flying saucers. He quickly searched the control deck in attempt to find something helpful. He become aware of a small blue switch which read "Hangar Bay." He flipped it right away. He turned towards the wall and saw that it was slowly opening. Luckily, Flint had flight training in Fourside. Remembering how loose the controls were, he pressed the button on the throttle and slowly shifted it forward. I guess if pigs were supposed to be flying this thing, it would have to be pretty easy. He suddenly heard the roar of engines from behind him. However, Flint was already out into the night before he could blink.

Flint looked out of the cockpit, trying to find out where he was. Though it was night, he could see sand hundred of feet below him shimmering in the moonlight. He turned to see if anything was on his tail yet, and realized that the place where he had just escaped from was a giant mountain, and the bay was already a small speck. In a little less than a second, several glints appeared. He was being chased. He put the throttle forward, then took off at speeds, according to the display screen, were getting close to 600 mph. He now heard the roar of engines from behind him, and then something that sounded like laserfire. He gritted his teeth and grabbed the throttle. He spun around in midair several times and his hat flew clean of his head due to centrifugal force. He grabbed it, but the whole ship suddenly jarred as he heard a blast from the side of the aircraft (or whatever it was). Smoke poured out from the right end, and sweat was pouring down Flint’s face. The calm, friendly voice popped up again.

"Damage report: Starboard side has sustained 23% damage… Automatic shields activated!"

The spaceship was bathed in a blue light. Flint frantically searched for some kind of weaponry, but didn’t find anything. He shook his head quickly, then put it in full throttle. A display screen showed that he was being chased by seven green dots. Suddenly, there was a loud roar. A light streaked through the air. With a loud yell, Flint immediately rolled. The light streaked past him, and there was an explosion on the ground. He needed to land. Smoke was pouring into the cockpit from where he was hit. Suddenly, the blast of lasers was heard again. The light around him rippled, then seemed to fade a little.

"Shield damage: 49%!"

"Crap!" he shouted, banging his fist on the dashboard. He took a sharp turn, but the aircraft was rattled once more by lasers. The light disappeared.

"Sorry! Shield system terminated!"

"SHUT UP!" Flint shouted. He slowed down a bit and looked towards the ground. About a mile away, he saw a large sand dune at least a hundred feet high. Oh well. He was going to die anyway. He pulled back on the throttle and released his grip on the button. Another hit rattled the ship, and sparks were flying everywhere. Flint fell to the ground and the annoying reporting voice popped up again.

"The power line has been destroyed. Well, it’s been nice knowing you. In respect for the soon-to-die, You’ll Never Walk Alone!

Flint tried grabbing the throttle, but his hand kept slipping.

"When you walk through the storm…"

He finally got a firm grip on the throttle and began pulling himself up.

"Keep your head up high and don’t be afraid…at the end of the storm is a golden sky and the sweet song of a silver lark-"

Flint pulled himself up. Through the cracked cockpit, he saw the sands of the desert rushing towards him. He quickly pulled back with his bleeding hands, slumping into his seat.

"Walk on, through the rain…"

He shook his head as the air from the hole in the cockpit rushed in. He adjusted the throttle with all of his might.

"Though your dreams be tossed and blown…"

Flint saw the sand dune, which was now less than 100 yards away. The ship was spinning out of control and the emergency sirens were blaring.

"And you’ll never walk alone!"

Sand was blowing into his eyes and mouth. He couldn’t see much, but he knew that he was hurtling towards the dune. The sound of an explosion rang out from behind him.

"(Have a good afterlife!) You’ll never walk…alone…"

There was an earth-shattering crash and intense heat for a split second, and then all went dark.

"How did you survive!?" Ricky demanded, soda nearly squirting out of his nose.

"Hey! That sounded like something from a book I read…" Ricky added.

"Keep your pants on! I don’t know much about that. I’ll tell you what I do know."

Flint did not know just how he managed to survive, but when he opened his eyes he was sprawled out in the sand, bathed in a dim yellow light. Sand was in every orifice on his head. He groggily tried to climb to his feet, and much to his horror, big, nasty buzzards surrounded him. He stood up slowly, then waved his arms a bit. They all stepped back a bit, then flew away. To his surprise, when he looked back, the wreckage of the ship that he escaped in was stuck halfway in the sand. Flint limped over towards it, picked up his cowboy hat a few meters away from it then crawled inside the cockpit. He first looked under the dashboard, where he saw a charred red box. As he grabbed it, a smile cracked his grim face. He scrambled to the sand below and opened it. Inside, he found what you might expect in most first aid kits. He took out strips of bandages, a bottle of Healing Pills, a canteen full of water (which he sipped greedily), some paper, and envelope, a flare gun, a pen, and a few whatnots that he had never seen before. He knew what to do. He quickly wrote out a letter to his nephews explaining what to do, put it into an envelope, and whistled. A giant crow appeared from seemingly nowhere, snatched it from Flint’s hand, and started off towards the north. He sighed. It may take him a while to get to Coal Town… In the meantime he wrapped up his wounds and took some Healing Pills for good measure. He was sure that he had enough water for at least a week, like the letter said. His stomach growled sharply and he mumbled something under his breath. With that, we walked off into the sunrise, expecting the worst.

About an hour later, the sun was already hot, and Flint knew it would be just a matter of time before the heat would become sweltering. Suddenly, a glint far off caught his eye. Half excited and half suspicious, he lifted up his hat and focused in on it. He couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly what it was. He looked around him and found a few rocks. He picked them up, and slowly walked towards it. His stomach twisted in pain. If he were going to fight, the opponent would surely have the advantage… Suddenly, he heard a voice. It was rather loud and high pitched. It seemed to be shouting, "Look! I think somebody’s out there!"

"So then I thumbed the jeep over," Flint said, closing his story, "It was this guy and his wife, who claimed to be investigating the explosion they had heard the previous night. I told them I didn’t know a single thing. They didn’t really believe me, but they gave me stuff to eat and drink. About an hour later, I’m here."

Ricky held his chin and stared at the wall. Krause eyed Flint skeptically.

"You wouldn’t doubt your own uncle, now would you?"

"That means there’s a lot more to these pigs than we thought?" Krause asked.

"Yes," Flint answered with a sigh, "There is evil in this world. Your…father requested that I take all measures in protecting you kids. I raised you all, thinking I would succeed. Now it’s all screwed. Those pigs are probably all around, looking for us."

The twins were silent. Boney slumped onto the ground.

"From now on, we’ll be moving around a lot. We’ll just be…fugitives, if you will."

Ricky spoke out.

"What about that weird spaceship thing that you crashed in?"

Flint perked up for a moment.

"No. It’s beyond repair. Only a super-genius like Jeff Andonuts could fix something like that. We’ll just have to take the-"

"Jeff Andonuts?" Krause asked.

"Did I say Jeff Andonuts? He’s nobody," Flint looked up at the clock on the wall, "We best be finding a place to stay for the night."

The twins knew he was just trying to change the subject, but it would be a good idea. They all got up and began to leave. A young woman sitting in the corner sipped a cappuccino and jotted some things down in a pocketbook. She adjusted her glasses, cracked her knuckles, and grinned. She quickly slipped on her lab coat, got up, and walked out the door.