[Before the end, I just want to extend my thanks to you. All of your responses helped shape this chapter, and this entire story, into what it is. I couldn't grant everyone's wishes, but that's just how it goes. It's been quite a journey getting here, and I'm glad you joined me for it.]

The riotous droning of a thousand beating hearts strangled all other sound. The air turned to sludge and the light died. Lucas kicked his feet and swung his arms, thrashing this way and that. He could barely make it out through his lidded eyes, but there was a dim glow above him. Lungs burning, body aching, he reached out.

A deafening spray, and then a glorious breath of air. He sputtered, choked, and strained to put sense to what he saw. Clear blue skies over calm waters, and between them, a short distance away, was dry land.

Lucas dragged himself through the tide, inching ever closer to the beach until his hands were sinking into wet sand. Clambering ashore, his chest heaved and muscles shuddered under the weight of his own body. Silt, seaweed and soaked clothes clung to his frame, all of them grown heavy with the same brine he was wiping from his eyes and spitting from his mouth.

Rolling onto his back, Lucas was sandwiched between the sun-baked sand and the abundant sky with only the rolling waves to keep him company. It was the perfect place to lie back, catch his breath, and try to figure out what in the world just happened.

Naturally, that tiny sliver of serenity could not last. Before he could even clear his head he heard someone else drag themselves ashore a few paces behind him, grunting, gasping, coughing, and generally making so much of a scene that it could only be one person. A single peek offered all the confirmation Lucas needed.

"Hey, Claus."

Soggy and sulking, the redhead didn't – or couldn't – answer right away. With one final hack he cleared his lungs and flopped down beside his brother. "Hey yourself," he wheezed.

"You okay?"

His laugh was sweet and sonorous, though barely audible over the wind and waves. "Never better. You?"

"Yeah, m'good," Lucas mumbled back.

"Quite the ride, wasn't it?"

"Mmhmm."

With an exaggerated groan, Claus sat up and leaned over Lucas, his still-drenched hair dripping. "Surprised to see me?"

"Nah," Lucas answered simply. "I knew you'd make it."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. You said you would."

Another laugh, uglier than the last, bubbled up in Claus's throat. "Okay then, smart guy. Did you see THIS coming?"

"See whaAAAH!" Lucas let out a scream when Claus bombarded his most ticklish spots. Rolling away didn't help at all; the older twin knew just where to strike to get the best reaction and didn't stop until Lucas was a helpless mess of giggles.

Satisfied with a job well done, Claus sat back to bask in his victory to the tune of his brother's subsiding hysterics. As tempting as it was to revel in the moment, though, he knew that they couldn't. "Should we get going?"

Lucas gave no reply. When Claus went to check on him the blonde flinched away.

"What's wrong?"

Lucas choked back a silent sob. "N-nothing." It snuck up on him out of nowhere, and try as he might there was no stopping it. No wails or noisy blubbers crossed his lips, just tears streaming down his cheeks without explanation or end.

"Hey now." Claus rested a hand on his brother's back. "No crying 'til . . . Ah, forget it."

For a time, it was enough to lie on the beach in silence under the warm summer sun with the salty sea breeze blowing in their hair. Even after Lucas ran all out of tears and their clothes began to dry, neither of them wanted to be the first to spoil the peace and quiet. That responsibility fell in someone else's lap.

"Well, well, well," a bedraggled Kumatora mused as she appeared over the dune at the boys' backs. "Look what washed up."

"Lucas? Claus?" Duster called out to them. "You two alright?" He looked even more like a bum than usual, with his hair sticking out at odd angles and one shoe missing.

"We're still here," Claus answered with none of the expected verve, "wherever 'here' is."

"Told you they'd be fine," Kumatora crowed.

Duster rolled his eyes to disguise his relief. "No one likes a braggart."

Smirking, Kumatora leaned in and poked him in the chest. "You like me just fine."

"Sometimes I wonder why."

"Is that so?" Kumatora grabbed him by the collar and yanked him in to plant a passionate kiss on his lips. "Still wondering?"

"Get a room!" Claus jeered.

"Maybe later," Kumatora answered, sparing a wink that only Duster could see.

"You two are so gross!"

It took a few seconds for Duster's brain to reboot, but when it did he cleared his throat. "Alright, that's enough messing around," he said. "We've got places to be; you boys especially."

"Yeah, seems like everybody went and got it in their heads that you knuckleheads saved the world," Kumatora chuckled. "Or did you destroy it? Hard to tell. Either way, pretty much everyone wants a word, so you better get a move on."

That finally roused Lucas from his reverie. "Everyone?" he asked. "They're all here?"

"Sure looked like it to me," Duster shrugged. "Too many to do a headcount. You're welcome to try, though. They're just on the other side of the hill back there."

Claus could see the glimmer in his twin's eye, but he figured he'd ask anyway. "Well, Lucas? Whaddya think?"

Lucas nodded. "Let's go." There was no use denying it: he wanted to see what sort of world the Dragon dreamed up.

The sandy shoreline quickly gave way to hardy grass and green trees that would have looked at home back in any old glade around Tazmily. It wasn't, though. Scanning the sky and seeing no recognizable mountain peaks anywhere, the twins were hit by the weighty realization that for the first time in their lives they weren't on the Nowhere Islands anymore. They had left those familiar trappings behind.

As the four of them crested the ridge, they beheld a gathering of people as large as any they'd ever witnessed. Family and friends, passing acquaintances and perfect strangers all crowded around a clearing. They were all chattering, sounds of confusion, alarm and relief melding into a din that only settled when one after another they turned their attention to the four figures on the hilltop. Greeted with waves and cheers from many, Lucas, Claus, Kumatora and Duster headed down to join the throng. The sea of people parted around them as they went, until at last Lucas and Claus came face to face with the sweetest sight of all: their mom and dad, grandpa and Boney, all together, all smiles, waiting for them.

Wrapped in their arms, sandwiched between his father's stubble and his mother's warmth, straining to breathe thanks to his brother's iron grip and his grandfather's musk, Lucas breathed a sigh of relief.

The rest of that day was a blur. So many faces, so much to say – it was a wonder they could even make sense of it all. The boys couldn't even get a word in before their grandfather was congratulating them.

"So how's it feel to be the toast of the town, eh? You really got us out of a jam back there. A man couldn't ask for butter grandkids. Hah ha!" He wiped a tear from his eye, hardly able to keep his giggling in check. "Okay, okay. I'll lay off the jokes just this once. I sure am proud, though. It seems like only yesterday I was changing your diapers, and now look at you two. You really know how to make a guy feel old, huh? Ah, don't worry; I'm just bein' crusty."

Not everyone had such an optimistic outlook, however.

"It's gone. All gone!" Jill exclaimed to anyone who would listen. "Our house, our land, our belongings; we've lost it all! When I find who's responsible for this, I'll . . . I'll wallop them good is what I'll do."

"Settle down, mom." Biff was doing his best to calm her down. "I know it's not ideal, but if anything you should be thanking Lucas."

"That little crybaby? Hardly," she scoffed. "Mark my words: this is all because of that brother of his. That troublemaker is behind it somehow."

As the twins quickly discovered, many of their neighbors had remembered everything. The Pigmask invasion, the end of the world, and their lives before the White Ship or Porky's brainwashing were laid bare. Some of the townsfolk took comfort and joy in such memories; a little too much joy in certain cases.

"Quit?!" Pusher blustered. "You can't quit!"

"I believe I just did," Sebastian countered.

"Don't you know who I am? I run this town!"

Elmore interjected before Pusher's face could get any redder, sidling up next to Sebastian with an affectionate smile. "Ignore my husband, he's a spineless old oaf," she said. "This is all a big misunderstanding. You see, Sebastian – is it alright if I still call you Sebastian? Had we known you were such an important man back before the world ended things would have been very different, I assure you."

Pusher stamped his foot. "Don't grovel to the help!"

Ignoring her husband, Elmore gave the butler a forlorn sigh. "Do you see what I put up with? I really am far too forgiving for my own good. I would have to be to put up with a man of such . . . low ambitions. A pity they can't all be cut from the same cloth as you."

Softening ever so slightly, Sebastian regarded Elmore. "Ma'am?"

"Yes, my dear Sebastian?"

"Please do be careful," he warned her. "That stole stains easily and I'll not be the one laundering it the next time it gets a spot."

Before she could respond, Neckbeard stepped up to Sebastian's side. "Is this lady botherin' you, boss?"

"No, no bother at all," Sebastian assured him. "Come along, gents. We've some important matters to attend to."

"Right behind you, sir," Skinhead nodded.

Others were a bit more apprehensive about their newfound perspective on the world.

"I gotta say: this has been a sobering experience," Bob confessed.

"No foolin'," Matt agreed. "I think it cured my hiccups."

"Think things'll ever go back to how they used to be?" asked Bob.

"Dunno," Matt reckoned, "but it ain't up to us."

"Y'know, I think I might actually start to miss pouring drinks for you slobs," Jackie realized. "Funny, isn't it?"

"A real laugh-riot," Bob snorted.

"Now I know things seem a little dire right now," said Jonel, "and while it's true we've all lost a lot, it's at times like this that we need to think about what we still have. Dear friends and family matter a lot more than some old buildings or watered-down cocktails."

"Easy for you to say," Matt grumbled. "You're not the one who just found out his whole life was a sham."

"Matt, that's what everybody just found out," Bob reminded him.

"Okay fine," Matt conceded. "But at least his wife is really his wife."

"You and Jill have been together for the last twenty years or so," Jonel recalled. "If that's not long enough to make her your 'real' wife, then I don't know what to tell ya."

Spotting Lucas's approach, a relieved Jackie greeted him. "Hey there, Lucas. Pull up a stump. I hear this is your doing. Not sure I follow what happened, but most folks seem to think it's a good thing. I'd lead a toast in your honor, but . . . Well, thanks all the same."

"Hmm? Lucas?" The name struck a nerve with the last of the men gathered around. "Oh hey, it's my favorite part-timer." The face wasn't familiar, but the voice gave it away: Mr. Brown. "Don't tell me you forgot all about me. Your old boss? From the factory? Boy, those sure were some good times, huh? Say, I've been looking for you. Well, not looking so much as keeping an eye out wherever I happened to be. At least I would have if I hadn't forgotten all about you and the factory and . . . Ahem. Anyway, I was supposed to give you your last paycheck. We didn't have your mailing address, you see. It's not much, and nobody uses DP anymore, but if nothing else you can think of it as a memento of, um . . . of our time . . . our, er, time together." The way Mr. Brown's search through his pockets was getting more frantic made it clear what was coming next. "Oh. I seem to have lost it. How embarrassing. But if you're still looking for part-time work, I'm starting up a little construction business and you can get in on the ground floor. Just a hunch, but seeing as nobody has a place to live anymore, I'd wager demand will be through the roof."

Then there were those whose memories hadn't returned at all.

"No, can't say I recall any of that," Nippolyte admitted after some probing. "I don't mind, though; it sounds awful. To be honest, I wouldn't want to remember any life but this one. Even at my age, it's a good idea to keep your eyes on the road ahead." The gravedigger's contented smile was hard to argue with. "You're too young to remember, but I wasn't always the town undertaker. I just happened to be the only guy with a shovel. What I really wanted was to be a gardener. Maybe it's not too late, thanks to you."

Hinawa might have had the most unique perspective of all. She may very well have known the answer to life's greatest mystery. If she did, she was in no rush to share.

"I just don't know what we're gonna do," Dona rambled. "How are we supposed to get home? Is there anything left to go back to?"

"It'll be okay," Hinawa assured her. "You don't have to face this on your own. We'll figure it out together."

"Hinawa's right," Lisa chimed in. "We'll watch out for each other, same as we always have."

"Yeah. Same as always." Dona took a few deep breaths, but was still rattled. "I just hate to think . . . Was I imagining things? Hinawa, I can remember that night. The rain and the smoke . . . and the funeral the next day. It feels so real, but here you are."

"Here I am," Hinawa echoed back, drawing her friend into a hug.

Of course there were some people who remained practical in the face of any existential crisis. Maybe keeping busy was just their way of dealing with it all.

"Hurry up with that timber!" Lighter bellowed to his assembled workforce. "We're gonna need lots of firewood before it gets dark out."

"On it, boss!" Bud and Lou replied.

If there was one thing Lighter could manage it was firewood, or so he liked to think. It was slow going, though, even with a crew. He could still afford to take a break when he caught sight of Claus, though. "Hey there, squirt," he said fondly. "Have you seen Fuel? Lazy good-for-nothing ran off somewhere and we need all the spare hands we can get."

"I'm not so sure we do," Isaac admitted. "There're only so many twigs to be picked up around here. What we really need is an axe."

The formerly fierce pork trooper snorted at Isaac. "Axe? You sound like an underage kid. Who needs an axe when you've got a pair of guns like these?" he asked, showing off his bulging biceps. It would have been more impressive if he'd actually collected any wood, rather than merely standing around flexing.

"Speaking of axes, how's it coming, Bronson?" asked Lighter.

"Keep your shirt on, dammit!" the blacksmith groused. "I'd like to see you try making a tool out of whatever you find lying around in the woods."

"Do what you can. We're counting on you."

"What else is new?"

As luck would have it, the item guy and his cart happened to be within earshot at that very moment. "You guys need an axe? I think I might have one."

That got Lighter's attention. "Really?"

"Yeah, buddy." He began pawing through his goods. There were old clothes, various gizmos, and some food that was certainly past its expiration date, and that was only the beginning. "People leave all sorts of stuff with me. I'm not really supposed to lend it out, but under the circumstances I don't think they'd mind."

Thomas whistled at the sight of the item guy's goods. "You've got quite the collection of odds and ends there," he noted. "And you say that people just hand it over to you?"

"For safekeeping."

"That's amazing," said Thomas, whose own stock was as sadly lost with the bazaar that bore his name. "You and I should shoot the breeze sometime; us entrepreneurs gotta stick together."

Lucas, meanwhile, had crossed paths with a band of townsfolk less concerned with keeping warm than keeping everyone fed. Hard work would be even harder on empty stomachs, they reasoned.

"I'll help, but I'm not really sure what to look for," Ollie admitted.

"It's about time you got your hands dirty," Mike grinned. "You youngsters have had it too easy. Stick with me and I'll show you how we got by back in my day."

"Couldn't you just go to the supermarket back in your day?" Caroline asked.

Mike screwed his lips into a frown, realizing just how right she was. "Well . . . we'd still have to go in the rain sometimes. Or the snow! Twenty miles, uphill both ways. If you wanted to eat, you had to work for it."

"Don't worry, Ollie; I'll help you," Tessie offered. "I think I saw some wildflowers that make a nice tea that we can gather."

"Keep an eye out for nuts, too," Caroline reminded them. "I might not have my kitchen, but I'm sure I can still whip something up."

"Just come to us before you sample anything," Abbey told her neighbors. "Abbot and I know a thing or two about plants."

"We sure do," Abbot agreed happily. "Gosh, and here I thought we'd never get a chance to really put that knowhow to the test. It makes me a little nervous, actually. It does beat sitting around in front of the Happy Box though."

"Hmph!" Mike snorted. "There just might be hope for you whippersnappers yet."

While everyone else mingled, Kumatora had her sights on her next objective. She'd already found two wayward souls. What was one more?

"You're looking for Doc?" asked Brenda. "No I haven't seen him, and I don't much expect to. Him appearing out of the blue like that last year, acting like he'd always been there, it's a bit creepy, don't you think?"

"Oh absolutely," Betsy agreed. "You know, I hear he's not even a real doctor. He's supposedly some kind of scientist. They say he does these weird experiments, if you believe that sort of thing."

"The nerve of some men. Good riddance, I say," Brenda scoffed. "Though I will miss that candy."

"He did have the best lollipops. And he was rather charming for an older gentleman."

"Oh hush. What if Jackie overheard you?"

"I'm sure he'd agree; he loves candy as much as anyone."

As she tried to excuse herself, Kumatora hoped that Duster was having more luck than she was, or at least finding less chatty people. He wasn't.

"Sorry, but your guess is as good as mine," Mapson shrugged, meekly holding his hat in hand. "I don't know where he is. I don't even know where we are. Some help I am, huh? For once, the map-owning, map-loving Mapson is map-less. Seems like I can't tell you where to go anymore. Guess you'll have to explore for yourself."

"Thanks anyway," said Duster. "I'll keep looking."

As Mapson shambled off, Duster felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Wess, looking as curmudgeonly as ever. "Can't even find one old coot, huh?"

"Dad . . ."

"Don't you sass me," Wess scolded him. "How sad; my son – my pupil – can't track down a bumbling codger. What's this world coming to?"

Duster kept his cool, knowing better than to talk back. Sometimes (or maybe all the time) it was better to let his father yammer on uninterrupted.

Sensing he'd get no quarrel, Wess could only sigh and shake his head. "You're a lousy thief." Then his expression softened. ". . . But a better son than an old moron like me deserves."

"Love you too, dad."

"Alright, enough of that," Wess grumbled, his face souring again. "Save it for Kumatora. I don't know what she sees in you, but don't you dare screw it up 'cause you'll never do better."

"I'll try my best."

"See that you do. She's coming this way."

Not waiting for either a farewell from his son or a how-do-you-do from his former ward, Wess was off as fast as his legs would take him. If there was one thing an old thief like him was good for, it was not being seen.

"Any luck?" asked Kumatora.

"None yet," Duster sighed. "Mapson's clueless. The chauffeur was no help either."

"Keep it up. He's gotta be around here somewhere."

"What's so important about Dr. Andonuts anyway? I didn't think you even liked the guy."

"I don't," she confirmed, "but I figure if anyone can make sense of all this, it'd be him."

"If you say so," Duster said with a noncommittal shrug. "Of course we need to find him first. It's like he up and vanished."

They still had plenty of places left to look, but the way Kumatora chewed on her fingernails proved that she was getting nervous. That was until she spotted an arrow lizard in the underbrush, its head pointing insistently back toward the beach. "Heh. Maybe we've been asking the wrong people."

Duster only gave her a confused look.

"This way," Kumatora said before stomping off.

After all their time together, from their meeting at Osohe Castle to the years at Club Titiboo and all their adventures since, Duster didn't merely trust Kumatora's strange intuition; he'd come to depend on it. With a bob of his head, he jogged after her.

As Lucas meandered from one gathering to the next, he eventually happened upon the strangest scene yet: a whole barnyard's worth of livestock clustered together around a shallow stream. There were chickens mingling with rabbits, pigs rolling about in the mud while sheep eyed them suspiciously, and cows lazily eating grass or lying in the shade of grand old oaks. In the middle of it all stood two chubby-cheeked, round-figured brunette men, gleefully patting themselves on the back.

"Hey there, Lucas!" It was Butch, arms akimbo and a broad smile pasted on his lips. "Whaddya think? Pretty impressive, wouldn't you say?"

"You're darn right it is," the second man – whom Lucas recognized as the Pigmask Lydia saved –answered on his behalf. "All these rabbits are safe and sound, thanks to me!"

"Thanks to US, you mean," Butch corrected him. "Plus the pigs and cows and chickens and . . . Hey, wait a minute. Aren't these your sheep, Lucas? Shouldn't you have been keeping an eye on them? Some shepherd you turned out to be. Oh ho ho! Hey, what's that look for?"

"You're not the only one who can be a hero, y'know," said the one-time Pigmask Captain. "Where would all these poor animals be without us, hmm?"

As it happened, Lucas was not the only one passing by just then. Ed, Nan and Alle, who was clutching Mr. Beary in her arms, had caught sight of all the animals as well.

"Impressive work, Butch," said Ed. "I don't suppose you saw Myrna, did you?"

"She's our parrot," Nan explained for the Pigmask's benefit. "We've been looking all over the place."

"Grandpa'd be real sad if we lost her," Alle added, anxiously squeezing the stuffed bear.

Sensing a chance to outdo himself, the former Pigmask spoke up right away. "Never fear, we'll help you look!"

"Darn right we will," Butch concurred. "See, Lucas? This is what REAL heroes look like."

Before they could spring into action, however, yet another lookie-loo made himself known.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I think I've found something that belongs to you." It was Bateau, and he was carrying a brightly-colored parrot on his outstretched arm.

"I'm alive!" Myrna squawked. "I'm plenty alive, dagnabbit!"

"You found her, Mr. Bateau!" Alle cheered. "Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, but it wasn't hard; she was hiding out with my doves."

"Hey, what's the big idea, Bateau?" Butch asked indignantly.

"Yeah!" his friend joined in. "We were supposed to be the ones to save the day!"

"All I did was find one little bird," said Bateau. "Nothing as impressive as a cow or even a pig."

Butch had to think it over for a second before agreeing. "Well, that IS true. I guess we can forgive you, but just this—"

Everyone – even the assembled animals – went silent when they heard thunderous footfalls getting closer and closer and closer. All eyes fell upon the shuddering shrubberies in the direction of those ominous sounds. It was a real shock when a rambunctious redhead popped out of them.

"Hey Lucas!" Claus shouted to his twin with a mischievous grin. "Guess who I found!"

Guesses were not necessary, as the drago family had already flanked the boy. At least Butch and his Pigmask pal could still take pride in corralling more critters than anyone else, even if theirs were less impressive.

Emerging from the row of trees buttressing the beach, Duster and Kumatora were pleasantly surprised to find the shoreline busier than it had been on their last visit. One particular sight demanded their immediate attention though.

"Over here! Look!" Ocho the octopus shouted as he wrapped his tentacles around a snare drum half-buried in the sand.

Baccio was the first on the scene, already carrying some of the other scattered remnants of his drum set. "Good eye," he said. "I guess we'll throw it on the pile."

Holding the prize up for a closer look, Ocho took an optimistic view of things. "Hey, I think this one might still work. Good news, right?"

"You're doing better than the rest of us," said Shimmy Zmizz, who was still mourning the loss of his keyboard. "Well, except for Magic."

Magic's guitar was slung over his back, caked in sand and missing a couple strings, but otherwise in surprisingly good shape. There was only one problem. "Fat lot of good it does me," he grunted. "How am I supposed to play an electric guitar without electricity?"

"You never know what you'll find when you're beachcombing," Ocho reminded them. "There could be a generator over the next dune."

"Hey guys!" Duster called out to them.

"Lucky!" his bandmates answered all at once.

"Good to see you," said OJ, who was lugging around his battered sax. "I was starting to worry we'd pull you out of the sand next."

"Better than out of the drink," Baccio reminded him.

"Don't I know it," OJ sighed. By way of explanation, he blew into his instrument's mouthpiece. The only thing it produced was a splash of seawater. "Say, now that we're all here I've got a notion to run by you guys. Whaddya think of hirin' Ocho on officially?"

"We could use a new manager," Shimmy Zmizz concurred, "since the last one turned out to be a maniac bent on destroying the world."

"I don't know the first thing about being a manager, though," Ocho pointed out.

"No worries, my man," said Baccio, giving the octopus a reassuring pat on the tentacles. "We don't know the first thing about bein' managed."

"My mom used to say that was why I couldn't keep a job," Magic noted. "Personally, I think it was the mohawk."

"You've got my vote," said Duster, "but only if you can 'manage' to help us look for Dr. Andonuts."

"The doc's disappeared, huh?" asked OJ. "Sounds like a worthy cause to me. Whaddya say, boys?"

The first response came from the unlikeliest source: only a few inches off the ground. "You bet!" It was Rope Snake, slithering into view with a determined look on his face. "It's me, the Rope Snake. I was here the whole time, but I never really had anything to contribute so I tried to stay out of the way. But now it feels like I just might be able to help out for once. It's my time to shine, and I'm not gonna waste it!"

Baccio nodded. "What he said."

Puffing out his chest, Rope Snake led the way. "Follow me, then!"

Faced with that much confidence, it was hard to say no, even if a few of them (rightly) suspected that Rope Snake was out of his depth. Nonetheless, Rope Snake marched them over to the first people he saw: a couple of men in striped shirts dragging a waterlogged but salvageable boat ashore.

"You there! Ferrymen!" Rope Snake called out to them.

"We have names, you know," the taller man answered. "I'm Paddel and that's Rowe."

"We're from the Tazmily Boat Club!" Rowe enthused. "Or at least we used to be."

"We've still got a boat," said Paddel. "But without Tazmily, it's a little hard to have a club."

"Can you help us?" asked Rope Snake. "We're looking for someone and that boat of yours is the fastest way to get around."

"Oof, sorry buddy," Paddel winced.

"Yeah, sorry," Rowe echoed. "This ship of ours isn't exactly ship-shape anymore."

"I think our days as ferryman are sunk," said Paddel. "But that's okay, 'cause once we get this thing all fixed up we're gonna run a fishing boat instead."

"Neither of us knows how to fish, though," Rowe pointed out.

"So?" Paddel countered. "I bet none of these fishermen know how to boat."

While those two babbled back and forth, Kumatora decided it would be better to ask someone else. Paul and Linda just happened to be nearby. "Have you guys seen Dr. Andonuts around?"

"Doc?" asked Linda. "No, I don't think so."

"We DID see a couple monkeys riding a big, purple sea monster, though," Paul added.

"No, YOU saw that," Linda huffed. "I still want people to think I'm sane."

"C'mon, they were dancing! Don't pretend you didn't see it too."

"Today's been crazy enough already, thank you very much."

"Thanks anyway," said Kumatora, hoping to cut off what could turn into another rambling conversation that she wanted no part of. She'd already had more than enough of that for one day. Thankfully, fate decided just then to cut her a lucky break.

A loud bellow erupted from beneath the sea. Paul and Linda jumped back from the shore and everyone else all turned to watch as a large, metal something-or-other tore its way up through the cresting waves, its shape obscured by cascades of water as it plowed inland. Their alarm was short-lived, though, as the object lurched to a halt as soon as it ran aground, the last of the churning water washing aside to expose a petite yellow submarine.

After a few tense seconds the small hatch on the vessel's side swung open and a pair of Mr. Saturns trundled out into the surf, followed closely by Dr. Andonuts. The old scientist blinked at the bright light and sucked in a breath of fresh air, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Speak of the devil," Kumatora muttered.

Spotting the gathered townsfolk for the first time, Dr. Andonuts put on a showy smile and stepped out onto the sand, followed by a parade of even more Mr. Saturns. "Well well, you're still alive. I suppose that means my calculations were off."

"Doc!" Linda exclaimed. "You scared us half to death!"

"See, guys?" Rope Snake asked. "I told you I'd find him!"

"Never doubted you for a second," Duster assured the reptile.

Looking over the submarine, Paul turned to Dr. Andonuts and asked, "What in the blazes is this thing?"

"Just a little piece of nostalgia," the doctor assured him with a waggle of his moustache.

"nEEDS moRE RiBBon. Zoom!" one Mr. Saturn commented.

"anD wHiSKERS. DinG!" added a second.

"anD BiRDiES!" suggested a third.

Stepping forward, Kumatora folded her arms to wait for an explanation. "So, care to tell us what the hell happened back there?"

Dr. Andonuts brushed her aside without a second thought. "You're clever; I'm sure you can figure it out. As for me, I've got work to do. If everyone came out of this mess of yours in one piece, then I really should chip in by making sure they don't all starve to death. I've already got an idea for an improvement on the old yogurt dispenser. I call it: the omelet dispenser. Wah ha ha!" As he walked off, it was with some extra pep in his step.

"I could go for omelet about now," said Shimmy Zmizz.

"Don't think this means you're off the hook!" Kumatora called after the scientist while he was still within earshot.

"Another quest completed," Duster noted.

Kumatora scowled his way. "But we didn't learn a damn thing!"

"Do we ever?"

"Ya got me there," she had to admit.

"So?" asked Duster. "Where to next?"

A smirk blossomed on Kumatora's face. Her boyfriend knew her too well. "You pick," she told him.

Hours passed, reunions were had and eyes were opened. As the day wound down the initial excitement waned with it and everyone began to settle into their new reality. The sun sank below the horizon and the mole crickets started to sing, but Lighter's efforts had borne fruit. Trails of smoke rose above the treetops as campfires came to dot the landscape. Families and friends gathered around the flames, sharing what meager meals they could cobble together and what insight they could offer. Plans were already being laid for the next day, the next week, and in some instances the foreseeable future.

Of everyone gathered about one particular campfire, Reggie seemed to be the most confident when it came to their situation. "Reggie's not too worried about living off the land," he said. "He's used to it. The trees and bees and bogs and frogs are his friends. As for Reggie's home, it's not the first time he's lost it. It'll all turn out okay in the end; just believe that and you're already on the right path."

"If you say so," Nichol said with a shrug.

"What about you, Mr. Leder?" Lucas asked. "What are you gonna do?"

The man looked down with a smile illuminated by the flickering firelight. His long legs were stretched out in front of him as he reclined on a makeshift seat. "That's a good question," he said. "The bell is gone, so I've got nothing left to ring. Even if it was still around, though, I'm not sure there'd be much point. It seems like I'm out of a job, wouldn't you say?"

Lucas cast his eyes downward. "I guess so."

Leder smirked at the trace of guilt in the boy's response. "Not that I'm complaining. I suppose the answer to your question is that I'm retiring. Time to enjoy my golden years and live out the rest of my 'story' however I like."

"Sounds like everyone's got plans, huh?" Angie asked Fuel.

"Everyone but me," he admitted.

"You'll figure it out," she assured him. "But if you ever get sick of gathering firewood, we could always use more help with the food. You're pretty okay at cooking."

Fuel's face lit up at even such faint praise. "Really? You mean it?"

"Sure, as long as you wash your hands. We don't need another 'Mike' in the kitchen."

Fuel snorted, only to then think back to the meal he'd just finished. "He didn't make the food tonight, did he?"

"Don't worry," Angie giggled. "It was only slightly unclean."

All things considered, Fuel had undoubtedly had worse. "I guess it's fine then."

"Besides, I get sooo bored making food with my mom and her friends," Angie continued on. "I miss hanging out with you."

"I miss it too."

"So? Think you can help out with breakfast?" She looked his way with hope in her eyes.

He smiled back. "Sounds good."

"What about you, Nana?" Lucas asked. She didn't seem to notice; probably lost in her own little world like so many other folks. She'd been especially quiet all day long, though. "Nana?"

"Sorry," she apologized meekly. "I, um, don't really know yet." It was strange; for possibly the first time in her life, she found that words failed her. Even though she was bristling with nervous energy, she had nothing to say. Or rather, there was only one thing she could say. "Lucas?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," she said. "For everything."

On the other side of the fire, Nichol and Richie were conversing in hushed tones.

"So Lucas and Claus are some kinda heroes, huh?" Nichol asked.

Richie shrugged. "Seems like it."

"And Claus used to be dead, right?"

"I thought he was. Maybe his dad wasn't crazy after all for spending so long looking for him."

"I guess not." The whole situation had been pestering Nichol ever since they woke up in that strange place earlier in the day. The more he mulled it over, the more unavoidable the conclusion became. "Are we boring? All we do is mind the bazaar."

"We can't even do that anymore."

"Hey, you're right!" Nichol realized. "Maybe things'll get more interesting now."

Angie didn't share her brother's enthusiasm. "After today, I could do with some dullness."

"You're no fun, y'know that?" Nichol asked. "Say, if one of us went missing, how long do you think dad would look?"

"Dad would probably be too busy," Richie sighed. "Mom, though? She'd track you to the ends of the Earth just to tell you to clean your room."

"Too true. No adventures for us, then."

"Thank goodness."

As much as Richie may have wished for a quiet life, there was one person around who would make sure it was anything but. Claus emerged into the firelight with Boney at his side. "What'd I miss?" he asked, flopping down in between Lucas and Fuel.

"We were just talking about our plans," said Lucas. "Have a nice walk?"

"Woof! (We sure did,)" Boney barked. "Woof woof! (There's lots of new trees to sniff.)"

"Sorry we took so long, but somebody had to go and chase a mouse," Claus apologized while looking pointedly at Boney.

"(I'm not the one that took five minutes to mark my territory,)" Boney chuffed defiantly.

"I was nervous! The forest is super creepy at night."

"No way, the woods are great," Fuel insisted.

"What about all the spooky noises, though?" Claus asked.

Fuel scoffed at that. "You probably just heard an owl or somethin'."

"Must've been one seriously big owl."

"Aw, don't worry," Fuel cooed as he wrapped an arm around Claus's shoulder. "I'll protect you."

"Shut up." Despite rolling his eyes, Claus let Fuel's arm stay right where it was.

"So, I know today was pretty crazy and everything," Fuel noted, "but just out of curiosity, are we still on for tomorrow?"

"Are you for real?"

"I'm just askin'."

"I'd love to hang out," said Claus, "buuut . . ."

"But what?"

"I'm kinda, um, grounded."

"What?!" Fuel was flabbergasted. "For how long?"

Sinking lower, Claus sighed pitifully. "Pretty much forever, I think."

"More like a couple days," said Lucas. "Just until things settle down, I bet."

Fuel looked between the twins in astonishment. "But I thought your folks were proud of you!"

"They are," Claus assured him. "They're a little less proud of the part where we didn't tell them until it was too late."

"It's not like they can send us to our rooms," Lucas pointed out, "so instead we're supposed to help out however we can."

"In other words, no time for fun," said Claus.

"Well that's just great," Fuel groused. "What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

"We could always work together," Claus suggested.

For all his protesting, Fuel gave in with remarkable ease. "Well if you're gonna twist my arm then I guess I don't have much choice."

It was the best arrangement they were likely to get. Funnily enough, even with their lives upended in every possible way, none of it seemed to weigh them down. For all the seriousness of their situation, there was an inexplicable air of hope running throughout the camp. Plans were already being made for the first buildings in their new, yet-to-be-named town. Everyone had a job to do and people to do it alongside. Claus and Fuel would be there for all of it, together at every turn.

Almost everyone did their best to get some sleep that night. The rough ground didn't make it easy, but most folks were worn out enough that they could manage a few winks. Lucas was not like most folks. Even as he reclined by the dying embers of a campfire, rest would not come. He couldn't help keeping watch over his brother, who was curled up in a ball between their mother and Boney. For her part, Hinawa was so exhausted that she could hardly stay awake through dinner. She'd passed out almost as soon as she settled in.

Seeing them there, still alive and well, Lucas knew it was nothing short of a miracle. Part of him wished he could live in that moment forever and that dawn would never come.

"Lucas?" It was his dad, his voice soft and mild. "Still awake?"

"Uh-huh."

Flint was hunched over next to the smoldering remains of the fire, his features barely illuminated. "You should get some shut-eye. We've got a lot on our plate for tomorrow."

"I tried," Lucas assured him, "but I just can't get to sleep . . ."

The man had heard that one before. "Anything I can do?"

Lucas shook his head slowly. "No thanks."

"If you say so." Flint wasn't one to intrude where he wasn't wanted. But he suspected he was more wanted than Lucas was letting on. "Y'know, it's funny. I've never noticed it before, but you look an awful lot like your aunt – my sister."

"I do?"

"Mmhmm. Spitting-image. Same hair and all."

Lucas didn't say anything right away. Hearing his father talk about family he'd never met – would never meet – felt a bit melancholy. "What was she like?"

"Smart as a whip," he said, "and sweeter 'n a bowl of sugar. You two have that in common."

"She sounds nice."

"She was."

Even without all the trappings of home – their beds, their belongings, the old doghouse they'd worked on together so many times – they both felt whole, like something had at long last settled back into its proper place.

With almost everyone asleep and the fires burned out, the world was nearly silent but for the ribbits and croaks of unseen save frogs. A more perfect night Lucas could not have asked for, except for one detail. It was too quiet. Flint alone understood that. He started to hum a lullaby, one Lucas hadn't heard since Boney was a puppy. That slow, rich melody took the boy back to his very earliest memories, to someplace warm and safe. His eyes eased shut, his breath slowed, and his heart slackened its pace. If only for a moment, all the Earth was at peace.