The streets of West Hill Marketplace were alive with movement, filled with the steady hum of conversation, the casual motion of money being exchanged for goods, and the occasional laughter of children weaving through crowds. It was an image of prosperity, the kind of scene that belonged to a world untouched by war, plague, or quarantine.


    Had Lucy not known any better, she may have mistakenly believed she''d traveled back in time.


    Stalls lined both sides of the broad, well-maintained street, their awnings casting strips of shade over tables brimming with produce. The air carried the scent of fresh bread, seared meat, and a sweetness—caramel, chocolate, warm vanilla. Farmers sold plump tomatoes and ripe peaches without a hint of scarcity. Tailors displayed fine clothing in storefront windows, the fabrics crisp and clean as if untouched by dirt and time. Even a jeweler had a modest display set up, his glass cases catching the light, reflecting tiny sparks of silver and gold.


    Everything was perfect.


    There were no signs of rationing. No half-empty shelves. No lingering desperation in the eyes of shoppers, no hurried glances over shoulders, or quick trades of contraband. But most importantly, there was little-to-no QA presence. Instead, there was the familiar sight of standard police officers acting as Lucy remembered from Before. People smiled, talked to shopkeepers by name, and moved like they had nowhere else to be. It was a town that had no business existing two years after the outbreak.


    Lucy, Karen, and Hans walked through West Hill Marketplace, each taking in the scenery with varying levels of awe and skepticism. Karen, predictably, seemed delighted, her eyes darting between shops like a child in a candy store.


    "Tell me this isn''t the most beautiful place you''ve ever seen!" She said, nudging Lucy with her elbow.


    Hans gave a low whistle, hands stuffed in his pockets. "It sure is swell. Brightvale''s got nothing on this!"


    Lucy didn''t respond immediately. She watched a woman leave a bakery, her arms full of neatly wrapped loaves, exchanging casual conversation with the owner before strolling away. There was an ease here, a peace that felt almost surreal.


    Something about it made her stomach tighten.


    As they strolled deeper into the marketplace, the trio took in the surreal normalcy around them. Karen, still enamored with the bustling scene, twirled in place.


    "So? Where do we start?"


    Lucy exhaled, grounding herself. "Let''s start by figuring out what we know so far."


    Hans nodded, hands still in his pockets. "Right. So, we''ve got that Ethan Bennett fellow—arrested before the fire. And then there''s the guy who ran from the scene, Martin Porter."


    Lucy folded her arms. "Both of them were in that picture at Trevor''s house. That''s not a coincidence."


    "And the dog tags," Hans added. "The ones marked ''47; shame you had to hand them over to Holly."


    Karen made a face. "You think she actually looked into them?"


    Lucy shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. She seemed interested, though."


    "And then there''s the French notebook," Hans reminded them, "Trevor''s still translating it. No clue how it fits in yet," his mind trailed off, "There''s also Councilman Geoffry, who''s allegedly still alive..."


    "The "communist" arrests at The Protective Measure..." he continued.


    "Wow, you really are helpful, huh?" Karen jested, a hint of mockery in her tone. "We don''t have to remember anything with this guy around."


    "I try." Hans joked back, gesturing with his hand, followed by a bow.


    Karen raised an eyebrow, shaking her head. "Gosh, you''re such a dork."


    Lucy chuckled, turning to Hans. "There''s also Lyle."


    Hans scoffed. "As if we could ever forget him."


    "And Bailey''s reaction when we mentioned his name," Karen added, her voice quieter.


    "Right," Lucy muttered. "That was the strongest reaction we''ve seen from anyone."


    Hans glanced around before lowering his voice. "And, there''s that deer."


    Karen shuddered. "Yeah... that sick deer."


    Lucy nodded, rubbing her shoulder. "Then there''s the whole ''Test Subject'' thing. And whatever they meant by ''keeping pace with Russia.''"


    Karen huffed, arms crossed. "You''d think we''d have enough puzzle pieces to see a fuller picture by now."


    Lucy''s gaze drifted over the crowd, watching as a young girl skipped past, holding a candy apple like nothing in the world was wrong. Like possibly every stray animal on Earth wasn''t a horrific abomination.


    Why would it stop at a deer? The realization finally dawned on her before turning her attention back to her friends.


    "We''re missing something," she murmured. "We just don''t know what yet."


    They found themselves near a central plaza as they explored the heart of the market, where people gathered around a large wooden announcement board. A few pinned-up notices fluttered in the light breeze—Town Hall schedules, community events, and what looked like an official QA bulletin.


    It wasn''t the board that caught their attention, though. It was the people.


    Nearby, a group of locals chatted excitedly.


    "Are you going?" one woman asked, adjusting the basket on her hip.


    "Of course! Wouldn''t miss it!" her companion replied. "Last year''s was incredible."


    Karen perked up. "Last year''s what?"


    Before they could press further, a nearby vendor—a stocky man setting up a crate of fresh oranges—chimed in, catching Karen''s enthusiasm.


    "The festival, of course!" He wiped his hands on his apron, beaming. "The Rosewood Creek Festival—biggest event of the season! You kids should go!"


    Karen lit up. "Oh, we''re so going."


    Hans shifted beside her, unimpressed. "Are we, though?"


    She looped her arm through his and yanked him toward the next row of stalls. "Uh, yeah, we absolutely are."


    Hans sighed in resignation, letting himself be dragged along. "The world is over, but this is how I die?"


    Lucy wasn''t so quick to jump in. She glanced back at the vendor. "What''s the festival for?"


    "Doesn''t need a reason," he laughed. "Just a wonderful time! Food, music, games—same as last year."


    Lucy processed that. A tradition? Two years after the outbreak?


    She glanced at the people around her, still beaming and completely unaware. Their demeanor remained entirely normal.


    Karen, now several steps ahead, called back over her shoulder. "Come on, Luce, you know we have to check it out!"


    Lucy hesitated for a second longer before thanking the man and falling into step beside them. "Fine," she said. "I guess we''ve nothing to do until morning, but we didn''t really come here to have fun."


    Karen grinned. "Yeah, yeah. You can watch while I win a giant stuffed bear."


    The transition from the marketplace to Rosewood Creek was like stepping into another world.


    Bright string-lights crisscrossed above, glowing in warm yellows and soft reds. Banners and streamers fluttered between lampposts, swaying in the cool evening breeze. The scent of fried dough and buttered popcorn filled the air, mixing with the distant sound of a carousel organ, the occasional pop of a BB gun at a shooting range, and the overlapping chatter of festival-goers. Children raced between booths, their laughter carrying over the crowd. A Ferris wheel loomed in the distance, its lights blinking in a mesmerizing rhythm. There were stalls lined with cotton candy, caramel apples, roasted nuts—foods Lucy hadn''t seen this plentiful in years.


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    She would''ve believed she was back in the familiar, small-town Virginia she once knew.


    "Tell me this isn''t gonna be the most fun we''ve had in years!" Karen smiled and spun around to face them.


    Hans eyed the flashing neon signs and prize booths warily. "I mean, it looks fun. I just—" he glanced at Lucy. "Something about this place doesn''t feel right. How is this possible?"


    Lucy didn''t answer right away. She was too focused on watching the people—specifically, she watched how no one looked over their shoulder. No one seemed remotely concerned about anything beyond the next game or ride. She could practically feel the illusion wrapping around them.


    But before she could say anything, Karen grabbed her and Hans'' arms, dragging them forward.


    "C''mon, you two conspiracy nuts," she teased. "We''ve got a festival to enjoy!"


    Lucy didn''t let herself get caught up in the festival''s atmosphere—not totally.


    As Karen pulled them deeper into the fairgrounds, Lucy''s eyes flicked from stall to stall, scanning faces, watching interactions, looking for anything suspicious. No one looked wary. No one questioned why things were still so perfect.


    Hans, on the other hand, had already let himself unwind.


    He leaned against a stall, munching on a bag of roasted peanuts, watching Karen excitedly eye the games. "You know, this is pretty nice," he admitted between bites.


    Karen smirked. "See? You just needed to stop thinking for once."


    Hans rolled his eyes but didn''t argue.


    She dragged him to a ball-tossing game, where he only managed to knock over exactly one bottle before giving up in disgrace. On the other hand, Karen did the opposite, sending every bottle flying with a single throw.


    Lucy, despite herself, let Karen convince her to try a fried dough stand. The first bite—warm, buttery, dusted in cinnamon sugar—was so overwhelmingly nostalgic that she let herself forget what they were doing here.


    Then, there was the cotton candy station—Karen''s idea, naturally.


    "Okay, this is an art form," she announced, expertly twirling the stick as the fluffy pink sugar formed around it. She held up her perfect cotton candy with pride.


    Hans attempted to make his own and ended up with a sad, lopsided mess. "This machine is rigged," he muttered, glaring at it.


    Lucy; trying to avoid participating, found Karen thrusting a stick into her hands.


    "You have to try," she insisted. "It''s, like, a festival rule."


    Lucy let out a sigh and proceeded, partially anticipating a disastrous outcome. But after a few awkward attempts, she managed to form a decent-looking bundle of spun sugar.


    Karen beamed. "See? You''re a natural! Hans, on the other hand..."


    She then snorted from laughing. "Hans... other hand... get it?"


    "Yeah, real original," he said while attempting to fix his mess-on-a-stick, "who''s the dork now?"


    Lucy took a bite, letting the sugar dissolve on her tongue, and found herself smiling before she even realized it.


    The dancing came soon after.


    A small live band had set up near the center of the fairgrounds, playing a mix of big band swing and early rock ''n'' roll. Couples and groups had started gathering, moving to the upbeat rhythm.


    Lucy, instinctively, took a step back, glancing at Karen. "No."


    Karen grabbed Lucy''s wrist immediately. "Oh, yes."


    "I don''t dance," she said, resisting Karen''s dire yanking


    "Wanna bet?"


    Before Lucy could argue, Karen had already pulled her forward, spinning her into the crowd.


    At first, Lucy was stiff, watching everyone else, feeling painfully aware of her own swaying. But Karen was relentless, keeping her laughing, guiding her along with the music until—


    She finally loosened up.


    "That''s it! Boogey!" Karen yelled, twisting her elbows and hips to the rhythm.


    For the first time since arriving in Northside, Lucy let herself enjoy the moment; just for a little while.


    The festive afternoon continued, and the trio had just finished another round of games—Hans losing spectacularly at darts while Karen gloated over a small stuffed animal prize—when Lucy turned to grab a snack from a nearby food stall.


    Just as she stepped forward, she collided into someone.


    "Whoa—"


    She barely had time to react before the stranger caught her by the arms, steadying her.


    "Careful there," the boy said smoothly, offering a quick grin before releasing her.


    Lucy stepped back, eyeing him. He was their age, 16, a little taller than Hans, with long, dark hair and a relaxed stance like someone who wasn''t in a hurry to be anywhere. Unlike the other Northside kids, who carried an air of easy, unbothered contentment, this one felt... different.


    Karen, never one to miss an opportunity, was already leaning in.


    "Hey there, stranger! Haven''t seen you around," she said, giving him an appraising look.


    He smirked. "I could say the same thing about you. Are you guys new?"


    Hans, already suspicious, crossed his arms. "Who''s asking?"


    "Calvin Brooks," he answered, offering a casual nod. "I prefer just ''Cal,'' if you don''t mind. And you?"


    Karen jumped in first. "Karen Baxtor! This is Hans, and the one who almost trampled you, is Lucy."


    Lucy shot her a look. "What? He bumped into me!"


    "Technicalities," Karen dismissed with a wave. "Anyway—are you from around here?"


    Cal took his time answering. "Yeah, West Hill."


    Lucy narrowed her eyes slightly. Something about him didn''t quite fit the clean-cut, unquestioning mold of Northside''s other citizens.


    "So you''re a local?" she asked, testing.


    Cal''s grin didn''t waver, but there was a flicker in his expression—a quiet amusement, like he knew what she was doing.


    "Something like that," he said.


    Lucy wasn''t sure why, but she suspected he wasn''t being completely honest.


    Karen, meanwhile, had already decided he was intriguing enough to stick around.


    "Well, Cal," she said, looping an arm through his, completely ignoring personal space. "Since we''re new here and all, how about showing us around?"


    Hans muttered something under his breath before speaking up, "Do we get a say in this?"


    "Nope," Karen replied cheerfully.


    Cal glanced at Lucy, his eyes glinting with amusement. "What do you think? Up for a little tour?"


    Lucy held his gaze for a moment before tilting her head. "Depends. Do you actually know anything worth showing, or are you just looking for an excuse to flirt?"


    Cal''s smirk widened. "Who says it can''t be both?"


    Karen gasped dramatically. "Lucy! I like this one."


    Lucy rolled her eyes but couldn''t quite suppress the small smile tugging at her lips.


    "Fine," she said. "Lead the way."


    As they wandered deeper into the festival, the energy around them buzzed with excitement—the distant hum of carnival rides, the cheerful chatter of festival-goers, the smell of popcorn and fried food thick in the air. Cal led them past street performers, where a man in a crisp white suit balanced on a rolling barrel, flipping coins in the air and catching them between his fingers while reciting some speech about perseverance and unity. Nearby, a woman in a sequined dress sang a jazz tune, her voice smooth and effortless, working the crowd like she was born to do.


    Lucy couldn''t help but get the impression that it was all a tad too much. Karen, of course, was thriving.


    "This place has everything," she marveled, nudging Hans as they passed a vendor selling costumes. "Try and tell me you''re not impressed... go on."


    Hans, munching on a stick with BBQ''d meat and vegetables, gave a noncommittal grunt. "Very impressed."


    Cal; walking beside Lucy, caught how her eyes scanned everything with the same shrewd look his did. "You always this skeptical at fairs?" he asked, grinning.


    Lucy gave him a sidelong look. "The masters that be haven''t given me much-a-reason to trust anything with their stamp on it."


    Cal chuckled. "Smart girl."


    He suddenly veered toward a nearby stall—a booth lined with hanging trinkets, keychains, and car accessories. "Hang on," he said, stepping up to the vendor.


    After a brief exchange, he returned with something in hand.


    Lucy blinked awkwardly. "Are those—?"


    A pair of pink fuzzy dice.


    Cal held them out to her, grinning. "Seemed like your kind of thing."


    Karen snorted. "You don''t know her at all, if you think that''s her kind of thing."


    Lucy just stared at them. The worst part was she wasn''t sure if Cal was messing with her or if he genuinely thought she''d like them, but she took them anyway, giving him a look. "You know these are going in my glove box, right?"


    Cal smirked. "Fine by me."


    Karen leaned in, whispering in her ear. "Lucy, I think he likes you."


    Lucy groaned. "I think he''s just being nice."


    Hans, arms crossed, muttered, "Why do girls always get the gifts?"


    Shortly after, Karen and Hans wandered off to a BB gun shooting gallery, where Karen was doing surprisingly well while Hans muttered about the sights being crooked.


    Lucy, meanwhile, found herself at a dart-throwing stall with Cal.


    The game was simple—pop enough balloons, win a prize. But Lucy barely paid attention to the target. She focused on the stall clerk instead.


    "Got your eye on any prizes?" the man asked, his smile overly friendly.


    Cal threw a dart, popping a balloon with practiced ease. "Nah, just killing time."


    Lucy picked up a dart, but her mind was elsewhere.


    The clerk had been chatting with another customer when they walked up, but something struck her. His conversation had been about work schedules, a neighbor''s new dog, the upcoming winter rations—


    Still, not once did anyone mention the outside world.


    No talk of family in other cities. No curiosity about what was beyond Northside''s walls. Nothing. Their entire world appeared to cease at the gates.


    She hurled her dart, inadvertently popping a balloon.


    Cal glanced at her. "You always in space like that?"


    Lucy kept her gaze on the clerk. "Just focused."


    As they wandered back toward the festival''s main square, the pace of the late afternoon had settled into a comfortable rhythm. Karen stretched, looking around with satisfaction.


    "Alright, I think I''m ready to wind down. Hans, movie?"


    Hans raised a brow. "A movie? Really? What''s playing?"


    Karen pointed toward a marquee sign near one of the event tents.


    "Catcha-Blanca."


    Hans read the description aloud, deadpan. "A café owner becomes entangled in a mystery while attempting to assist his ex-lover and her fiancé in escaping the Nazis." He paused, then muttered, "Huh. That actually sounds kinda good."


    Karen grinned, already grabbing his arm. "Then let''s go!"


    "I would rather not watch a movie," Lucy said, glancing again at all the people around the grounds.


    Karen sighed with exaggerated disappointment. "Well then, I and Sir Hans shall go without you, dreadfully!"


    Hans looked at her. "We will?"


    Lucy raised a brow. "You''re seriously ditching us for a romantic crime drama?"


    Karen winked. "We''ll be so cultured when we get back!"


    Hans sighed but didn''t resist as Karen dragged him toward the tent. "This better not be three hours long..."


    Lucy watched them go, shaking her head fondly—then realized they left her alone with Cal. She turned to find him already looking at her, hands in his pockets, smirking slightly.


    "Guess that just leaves us," he said, entirely unbothered.


    Lucy narrowed her eyes. "You were hoping for this just now, weren''t you?"


    Cal shrugged. "Maybe."


    She crossed her arms, amused despite herself. "Did you and Karen have this planned?"


    He laughed, tilting his head toward the festival. "No. Let''s just call it an opportunity."


    The music from the bandstand drifted through the air, blending with the chatter of festival-goers. The afternoon still buzzed with life around them, but the atmosphere had shifted—now that it was just them.


    Lucy exhaled, watching him for a moment.


    "...Alright, Cal. Let''s see what you''ve got."


    His grin widened.


    "Oh, gladly!"