The chaotic noise and energy of the festival seemed distant from Meadowridge. Here, winding walking paths cut through trimmed grass and carefully planted flower beds. Wooden benches lined the paved walkways. The air smelled of fresh greenery and faint traces of cinnamon—probably from a nearby bakery.


    Lucy couldn''t ignore how peaceful it all was.


    People strolled casually, chatting, holding hands, enjoying the illusion of serenity. No one looked over their shoulder or seemed to think about the outside world.


    It''s all a bubble, she reminded herself, fighting the urge to stay permanently.


    "You look like you''re thinking too hard," Cal said, stepping beside her, holding a paper bag.


    Lucy glanced at him. "I do that a lot."


    He smirked. "I like that about you... Many here don''t think at all."


    He offered her the bag. She took it cautiously, peering inside—a soft pretzel, still warm.


    She raised an eyebrow. "Bribery?"


    Cal shrugged. "Call it an offering. I bet they don''t make those in Brightvale, huh?"


    Lucy tore off a piece of the pretzel, watching as he casually strolled toward the fountain and sat on the stone ledge. "Nope. We mostly only eat eggs and pancakes." She followed, perching beside him but keeping just enough distance between them.


    "I take it you like Meadowridge? It''s lovely here," she said, breaking off another bite.


    "Can''t complain," Cal replied, leaning back on his hands. "It''s quiet. No one bothers you here."


    "And that''s a good thing?"


    He huffed a quiet laugh. "It depends on who you ask."


    She turned to look at him fully. "I''m asking you."


    Cal met her gaze, his smirk fading slightly—not in discomfort, just... consideration.


    "It''s easy," he admitted after a beat. "Life here, I mean. You just exist, y''know? No worrying about food, shelter, or whether something''s out there watching you while you sleep." He flicked a crumb from his thumb. "Out there, if you''re not careful, you start forgetting things. Forgetting what it was like before... you lose yourself after a while."


    Lucy caught the slight shift in his expression—a flicker of something deeper.


    "Did that ever happen to you?" she asked.


    Cal''s lips quirked, but there was no humor in it. "Not exactly."


    Lucy watched him carefully. Unlike the others she had met in Northside, Cal didn''t pretend this place was perfect. He played along, but there was a difference. A gap between believing in something and just accepting it.


    She took another bite of her pretzel. "Good."


    Cal arched a brow. "Good?"


    Lucy smirked slightly. "Means I don''t have to waste time reminding you."


    ——————————————?—————————————


    The diner had the kind of classic charm that looked ripped straight from a postcard—checkered floors, chrome stools, a glowing neon sign humming softly near the entrance. The scent of fresh coffee mingled with warm syrup and sizzling bacon, even though it was well past breakfast.


    Lucy slid into a red leather booth, Cal settling across from her.


    A waitress in her fifties, her hair neatly arranged in a tight bun and wearing an apron that seemed unchanged since 1940, approached with a polished, practiced smile.


    "What can I get ya, hon?"


    Lucy scanned the menu, but Cal was already ordering. "Chocolate shake, extra whipped cream."


    The waitress turned to Lucy expectantly.


    She hesitated before saying, "Same thing."


    Cal smirked. "See? Already making good choices."


    Lucy shot him a look. "I haven''t been so overwhelmed by options since..."


    "It''s okay, sweetheart. We have everything you need here," the waitress assured her before taking their menus and disappearing behind the counter.


    Lucy rested her elbows on the table, observing Cal intently. "So, Northside..."


    Cal tilted his head slightly, as if amused. "We just got here, and you''re already getting into the serious questions?"


    "I''m nosy."


    His smirk softened slightly—not fading, just less performative. "Alright. What do you want to know?"


    She gestured loosely. "Everything."


    He huffed a quiet laugh. "That might take a while."


    "I''m a patient person."


    Cal studied her briefly, then leaned back against the booth, draping one arm over the seat. "Alright. Let''s see... Northside 101." He tapped the table as if organizing his thoughts.


    Lucy listened closely as he talked.


    Life here wasn''t bad. Things were easy here, just like in Brightvale, as long as you followed the QA''s rules, kept your head down, and performed as expected. You could attend school, work, get married, and have kids. No war, no hunger. On the surface, it was perfect.


    The mention of school caught Lucy''s attention.


    Brightvale kids didn''t go to school anymore. It had been two years since she last set foot in a classroom.


    But then he mentioned something that made her pause.


    "Most of Northside is off-limits, though," he said, stirring his napkin absentmindedly.


    Lucy narrowed her eyes. "Off-limits?"


    Cal nodded. "Yeah. People don''t talk about it much, but there''re whole sections of the city that we''re just... not allowed to go to. Completely blacked out."


    Lucy tilted her head. "What do you mean by ''blacked out''?"


    Cal hesitated, then exhaled. "I mean dark. No streetlights, no people—no movement to be found. Just empty, like it doesn''t exist." He glanced around the diner before leaning closer. "But every once in a while, you''ll see something."


    Lucy leaned forward, fully invested. "See what?"


    "A window, or building, lights up," he leans closer, "I think they''re doing something out there."


    A chill crept into her spine. She didn''t know why, but something about that made her stomach turn.


    She sat back, keeping her expression neutral as the waitress returned, sliding two tall metal cups in front of them. Chocolate milkshakes, extra whipped cream.


    Cal grabbed his spoon and dug in, watching Lucy over the rim of his cup.


    "What?" he asked, grinning.


    Lucy shook her head, stirring her shake absentmindedly. "Oh, nothing."


    "You look like you''re connecting dots in your head."


    She met his gaze, raising a brow. "Maybe I am."


    Cal grinned, licking whipped cream off his spoon. "You''re fun, you know that?"


    "So I''ve been told."


    His grin widened. "By whom?"


    Lucy took a sip of her shake, stalling. "People."


    Cal laughed. "Mysterious. I like it."


    Lucy rolled her eyes but couldn''t quite hide her smirk. She swirled her straw in her shake, gathering her thoughts before finally saying,


    "So. Tell me about West Hill—do you like it there?"


    Cal gave a half-shrug, his expression unreadable. "It''s fine. Better than where I came from."


    Lucy didn''t miss how he said it—offhand, dismissive, but careful. She set her cup down.


    "Where did you come from?"


    Cal hesitated for half a second longer than he should have. Then, exhaling through his nose, he leaned back.


    "Ohio."


    Lucy chuckled hard. "Oh? You''re far from home."


    "Yup."


    She looked him over before shaking her head. "That''s not what you meant though. Where were you from before Northside?"


    "No Man''s Land."


    Lucy''s grip tightened slightly around her straw. She should''ve expected that. He wasn''t like others in Northside, after all.


    "How long were you out there?"


    Cal let out a soft chuckle, but there wasn''t much humor in it. "A while. Long enough."


    Lucy didn''t break eye contact. "What was it like?"


    "C''mon, Sinclair; I''m not gonna ruin the evening by telling horror stories."


    Lucy narrowed her eyes. "That bad, huh?"


    Cal didn''t answer right away. Instead, he lifted his spoon, took another bite of whipped cream, and flashed her a smile that didn''t quite reach his eyes.


    "Maybe I''ll tell you some other time," he said. "Like... if I visit Brightvale—see what it''s like." He arched a brow. "You''d have me, right?"


    Lucy huffed a quiet laugh. "I wouldn''t think that''d be possible."


    Cal raised a finger. "Ah, see, that''s what most people think!"


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Lucy''s amusement faded into curiosity. "Elaborate?"


    Cal leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make her listen harder.


    "It happens all the time," he said. "People don''t go around mentioning it, but privileged folks get to travel between Northside and Brightvale when they''ve got the right reason."


    Lucy frowned. "I see... And what would your ''right reason'' be?"


    Cal''s grin returned, slow and easy. "I''m sure I can think of something."


    Lucy scoffed, but the way he said it and the way he looked at her made her stomach do something annoying.


    "Right," she muttered, sipping her shake to cover it.


    Cal laughed under his breath. "Alright, alright, serious talk. You were asking about other places in Northside. Anything else you wanna know?"


    Lucy refocused, pushing away whatever that moment was.


    "Harmony Glen," she said, "what''s it like?"


    Cal tapped his spoon against his cup, considering her question. "Harmony Glen? It''s... exactly what you''d expect—another place where people go to pretend the world never changed."


    "How so?"


    "You name it, they''ve got it—clubs, lounges, dance halls, a casino-style parlor. If you''ve ever wondered what adults did for fun before, that''s where you''ll find it."


    Lucy took a sip of her shake, letting that sink in. "Is everything in compliance with the rules?"


    "Not entirely."


    That piqued her interest. "What do you mean?"


    "There''s a little smuggling, some minor organized crime," he admitted casually. "It''s not exactly run by major criminals or anything, but if you know the right people, you can get your hands on stuff."


    Lucy set her cup down. "Stuff?"


    Cal chuckled. "Relax, Sinclair. I''m talking contraband luxuries—cigarettes, real coffee, records. Maybe some alcohol if you know the right guy. Maybe some drugs, but I wouldn''t know."


    "What''s the worst thing that''s happened there?"


    Cal hesitated just long enough for her to catch it.


    "Couple of months ago, a guy got stabbed in an alley," he said, finally. "Don''t think anyone ever found out who did it."


    Lucy watched his eyes. "So they say."


    Cal''s grin widened, amused. "So they say."


    As they both took a sip of their shakes simultaneously, Cal continued smirking to himself. Lucy let the silence linger for a beat before setting her cup down and meeting his gaze again.


    "Speaking of which—tell me about the prison."


    Cal''s relaxed demeanor shifted the second Lucy mentioned the prison.


    It was subtle—how his shoulders tensed a bit, the way he stirred his shake without drinking from it. She noticed.


    She rested her arms on the table. "So? What''s the deal with it?"


    Cal didn''t answer right away. He took his time before finally saying, "I don''t know much." He met her gaze, his voice more serious than before. "But I know enough to stay the hell away from it."


    "Why would Northside need such a prison at all? I mean, this place is perfect, isn''t it?"


    Cal huffed a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it.


    "Look, Lucy," he said, his voice low. "I wouldn''t know. And I definitely wouldn''t go around asking."


    Lucy studied him before shifting her thoughts elsewhere, letting it go.


    "Fine," she said. "Let''s talk about something else."


    "Oh? What now?"


    "You won''t tell me what it was like out there," Lucy said, tilting her head thoughtfully. "So tell me the craziest thing you''ve heard."


    Cal''s smirk twitched back into place, but, this time, it was different. "Have you ever heard of the Dead Woods?"


    Lucy''s expression didn''t change, but she filed the name away immediately.


    "No," she said. "Should I have?"


    Cal shrugged. "Depends on how much you like ghost stories."


    Lucy arched a brow. "Ghost stories?"


    Cal nodded, swirling his shake absently. "It''s past the QA border, somewhere out in West Virginia. No one who goes in ever returns, except for one guy."


    Lucy let him talk.


    "My dad and I met him on the road once," Cal said. "Said he escaped from the woods. He looked bad—thin, paranoid, barely sane. And the way he talked..." Cal shook his head. "I''ve seen a lot of messed-up people since this started, but this guy? He wasn''t just scared. He was convinced that the place was haunted."


    Lucy, despite herself, felt a chill creep up her spine. "Haunted? What did he see?"


    "He didn''t see anything. But he heard them."


    Lucy narrowed her eyes. "Heard who?"


    "The dead."


    Cal''s voice was casual like he was talking about the weather. However, Lucy caught a glimpse of the slight bob in his throat after he finished speaking.


    "He said he heard cries in the night," Cal continued, his tone quieter now. "Women. Children. Men shouting orders while dying. Over and over, like it was all still happening."


    Lucy let that settle before her expression shifted to one of skepticism. "That sounds made up."


    Cal smiled, gesturing dismissively. "Yeah, probably."


    "You were right."


    Cal blinked. "About?"


    "No Man''s Land," she muttered. "Real bummer."


    ——————————————?—————————————


    The night had stretched longer than Lucy expected, but she wasn''t complaining.


    Between the music, the festival games, and the strange but effortless way Cal kept the conversation going, the hours had disappeared faster than she realized. Eventually, the crowds started thinning, the glow of the festival softening in the distance as vendors packed up their stalls and families herded sleepy children home.


    Cal, leaning casually against a streetlamp, tossed his car keys into the air and caught them with an effortless grin. "You ready to call it a night?"


    Lucy exhaled, stretching her arms. "Yeah, probably should. I''m sure the QA will have us up nice and early tomorrow."


    "Alright," he said, nodding toward the parking lot. "Let''s go."


    She trailed behind him as he approached a dark-skinned 1947 Super Deluxe coupe, a car that exuded speed even while idling.


    Lucy raised a brow. "Nice ride."


    "Thanks."


    Lucy looked at him fully, a large smile forming.


    "I think you''re fun too, by the way."


    Cal mirrored her expression, opening the passenger door for her. "I try."


    ——————————————?—————————————


    As they reached Trevor''s house, the festival''s lights faded into the horizon, leaving the night with a sense of tranquility. Lucy exited the car, expecting to see Karen and Hans waiting on the porch.


    They weren''t there.


    She checked her watch: 10:27.


    It was late, she thought to herself.


    "Relax," Cal said, closing his door. "They probably just lost track of time. It happened to me all the time when I first got here."


    Lucy wasn''t convinced, but she headed inside the house. The soft click-clack of a typewriter greeted them, followed by Trevor''s voice.


    "Ah," he said, not looking up from his desk. "Miss Sinclair. Mr. Brooks. A pleasure as always."


    Lucy ignored the greeting. "Karen and Hans aren''t back yet?"


    Trevor didn''t pause his typing. "No."


    Lucy glanced at the clock on the wall, arms crossed. "It''s late."


    Trevor finally looked up, adjusting his glasses. "Miss Sinclair, there is a statistical likelihood of 99.8% that your companions are merely continuing to enjoy themselves and will return unscathed."


    Lucy huffed, not convinced. "And the 0.2%?"


    "Marginal risk."


    Cal chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he leaned against the wall. "You sure do know how to comfort a lady, Trev."


    Lucy, despite herself, felt some of the tension ease. And sure enough, not twenty minutes later, the front door swung open.


    Totally unfazed, Karen and Hans walked in, bickering about a movie''s plot before they noticed Lucy was staring at them. Karen groaned, stretching her arms.


    "Okay, okay, before you freak out, we were watching a very long movie!"


    Hans sighed, rubbing his eyes. "It wasn''t even that long."


    Karen pointed at him. "You shushed me."


    Hans muttered, "Yeah, because you wouldn''t stop whispering your own plot theories out loud."


    Karen huffed dramatically. "I was right about the twist, wasn''t I?"


    Hans waved her off. "Not the point."


    Lucy exhaled, finally letting herself relax. "You guys could''ve at least sent word."


    Karen flopped onto the couch. "Oh, I''m sorry; next time we''ll send a carrier pigeon."


    Trevor adjusted his glasses. "That would be inefficient. A simple telephone call would have sufficed."


    "You know what, Trev? You got me there."


    With Hans and Karen safely back, the group unwound in the living room, the conversation turning light and casual.


    Eventually, Cal pushed himself up from the chair. "Alright, I should get going."


    Lucy followed him toward the door. Before he stepped outside, he turned back, his expression more serious now.


    "Listen," he said quietly. "Don''t trust the QA."


    Lucy stilled, watching him. "Huh? You think I do?"


    "No," Cal admitted. "But whatever you''re doing here, you''re taking a risk. They''ll always be one step ahead, so you should try to do the same."


    Lucy studied him, weighing his words. Then, she nodded. "Thanks for the advice."


    Cal gave her one last smile, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, ''Miss Sinclair,'' I had a pleasant evening with you."


    With that, he slipped into the driver''s seat, the engine''s rumble breaking the night''s silence. As he drove off, Lucy stood on the porch for a moment longer, staring into the dark.


    ——————————————?—————————————


    The sharp chime of the doorbell cut through the early morning quiet, followed immediately by loud, insistent banging on the door.


    Lucy barely had time to sit up before she heard Karen''s groggy voice from down the hall.


    "What the hell is wrong with you people?"


    A deep chuckle followed. Subsequently, the sound of boots stepping inside was heard.


    "Rise and shine, kiddos!" a voice called, far too cheerful for the hour. "Grab your belongings; it''s time to go."


    Lucy swung her legs over the side of the bed, rubbing her face before standing. Hans shuffled out of the room behind her, hair sticking up on one side, looking like he''d lost a fight with sleep. By the time they entered the main room, Karen was standing off to the side, arms crossed, still squinting from being half-awake, while a QA soldier—broad-shouldered, smug—stood near the door, clearly enjoying himself.


    "Why are you like this?" Karen muttered.


    The soldier grinned wider. "Just doing my job."


    They gathered their things slowly, zombie-like. Hans muttered that he needed three more hours of sleep, while Karen took her sweet time tying her shoes, glaring at the soldier with each loop.


    As Lucy zipped her bag, Trevor stepped beside her, holding something.


    "Miss Sinclair," he said, extending the item toward her. "Do not forget your... questionable reading material."


    Lucy blinked in confusion, then took it: a men''s underwear magazine.


    Or, at least, that''s what it looked like at first glance. But as soon as she took it, she felt the familiar shape of the French notebook tucked inside, about twice as thick as before.


    She glanced up at him, half impressed, half amused.


    He lowered his voice slightly. "I will be honest. I had a look myself, and it is fascinating indeed. Very interesting. I may need to acquire some of the said undergarments myself."


    Lucy smiled, tucking the magazine into her bag.


    From the doorway, the soldier snorted. "Weird kids."


    She turned, giving Trevor a dramatic bow. "Thank you, Mr. Trevor. It''s been quite the pleasure."


    Trevor nodded. "As expected."


    With that, the trio stepped outside and was escorted back toward the waiting QA vehicle.


    Northside was behind them now. Home was next.


    ——————————————?—————————————


    The ride back to Brightvale was quiet—uncomfortably so, making Lucy''s mind race.


    She thought about Cal and the time they had spent together. And more than anything, she replayed his parting words.


    Don''t trust the QA.


    They''re always one step ahead.


    She leaned forward slightly, catching the eye of the soldier driving.


    "Hey," she said casually. "Can we make a quick stop?"


    The soldier didn''t even glance at her. "No."


    Lucy huffed. "Come on, it''s just for a second."


    "Orders are to take you straight back," he said, adjusting his grip on the wheel.


    Lucy pressed her hands together in a pleading gesture. "Please? I left something very important in my car when it broke down."


    The soldier exhaled sharply. "I don''t care."


    Lucy thought fast. "I—I think I have some money in there too."


    That got his attention.


    His eyes flicked to her. "How much?"


    Lucy hesitated, then shrugged. "Fifteen? Twenty dollars?"


    The soldier gave her a look, scanning her like he was trying to decide if she was lying.


    "You better not be wasting my time, kid."


    Lucy forced a bright, innocent smile. "I''m not! I promise! It''s so very important. You''ll see."


    A long pause.


    Finally, with an annoyed sigh, "Fine."


    A few miles later, there it was. Her beautiful Studebaker—her baby—was still sitting exactly where she''d left it. Untouched, undisturbed.


    The jeep rolled to a stop, and the soldier muttered, "Make it quick."


    Lucy jumped out, striding toward her car with just enough urgency to make it look real.


    She yanked the driver''s side handle—then, fumbled her bag, spilling everything onto the car floor.


    The soldier groaned. "Seriously, girl?"


    Lucy grinned sheepishly. "Whoopsie!"


    She climbed inside, closing the door just enough to obscure his vision.


    Keeping her movements deliberate, she rifled through the dashboard like she was searching for something. Then, she leaned down, grabbed her pocketknife, and sliced open the fabric under the passenger seat.


    The notebook slid in easily.


    She pressed the cut fabric back together, gathered her stuff, and stuffed it all back in her bag—except for the fuzzy dice Cal had gotten her. She flipped open the glovebox and rummaged through an old envelope, pulling out twenty-five dollars.


    Climbing back into the jeep, she handed the cash over. The soldier counted it quickly—then stopped.


    His gaze drifted to the fuzzy dice in her other hand.


    "...You''re kidding, right?"


    Lucy smiled, holding them up. "Nope! They''re for you! Thank you for being such a good guy and protecting us in this scary, dangerous world," she said, her tone just sincere enough to hide the mockery.


    Before he could protest, she looped the dice over the rearview mirror, giving it a dramatic spin.


    "It''s so much prettier now," she said cheerfully.


    In the backseat, Karen and Hans were losing it.


    The soldier sighed, staring at it with dead eyes. "Whatever—it''s your money, kid."


    Lucy grinned to herself.


    The notebook was hidden, and her car would be delivered straight to her driveway.


    ——————————————?—————————————


    The moment the jeep rolled past Brightvale''s gates, the tension was overwhelming.


    Lined up in perfect formation, Holly and a squad of QA soldiers stood waiting.


    She held up a hand, stopping the vehicle. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she motioned her squad to move in.


    Lucy''s pulse kicked up. "What''s going on here?"


    From behind her, Karen exhaled sharply. "Theatrics as usual."


    Hans shifted uneasily. "This isn''t good."


    However; the QA soldier driving them? He laughed.


    The squad moved in and the doors were yanked open before anyone could react. Rough hands grabbed them, ripping them out of the jeep, and onto the concrete.


    No warnings. No explanations.


    Just force.


    Lucy twisted against the grip on her arm. "What the hell is this about?"


    Holly, expression unreadable, didn''t even hesitate.


    "Arrest them."


    The words hit like a gunshot.


    "What?!" Karen snapped, struggling against the soldier restraining her.


    Hans wasn''t much better. "We didn''t do anything!"


    Lucy fought hard, "On what grounds?!" but she knew. It was useless.


    Cold metal snapped around their wrists.


    Holly, calm as ever, stepped closer, watching Lucy with something that wasn''t quite a smirk but close. "Welcome back, kiddo," she murmured.


    "You didn''t think it''d be that easy, did you?"


    Lucy glared but didn''t answer right away. Then, with cold eyes, she spoke clearly.


    "Screw you, Holly."


    Holly laughed loudly, motioning toward the waiting military transport vehicle.


    The cold slam of the transport door echoed like a gavel in a courtroom. Lucy sat rigid, hands bound, pulse hammering—turning over every move that had led to this moment in her mind. Holly lingered just outside, watching through the reinforced glass.


    The engine growled to life.


    As the truck lurched forward, one thing became crystal clear: Brightvale was not welcoming them home the way Lucy had anticipated.