A sharp, metallic clanging interrupted the trio's dreams. They jolted awake, hearts hammering, the remnants of sleep evaporating instantaneously. Beyond the window, a figure came into view.

  CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

  A QA soldier stood outside, truncheon in hand, lazily tapping it against the glass.

  "Breakfast time! Wake up, ladies!"

  Lucy let out a long, exhausted sigh and collapsed back into the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. From the next cot over, Karen groaned loud enough to shake the walls.

  "Was that necessary?"

  Hans rubbed his eyes, his hair sticking up at odd angles. "Did he just call me a lady?"

  Karen, still half-asleep, smirked. "He did, princess."

  Hans glared at her. "Oh, hush up."

  After getting dressed and shuffling through the halls under armed escort, the trio found themselves inside a surprisingly warm, lively cafeteria.

  And the smell—

  Lucy's eyes widened. Hans gasped like he had just seen heaven.

  The table was stacked with food—pancakes, eggs, bacon, beans, potatoes, sausages, and even thin slices of steak.

  Hans all but threw himself into a chair. "Holy crap, guys!"

  Karen shook her head in disbelief. "Golly, I haven't seen a spread like this since Before."

  Lucy, still taking in the sight of the feast, smirked. "Had I known, I would have asked Ollie to accompany us!"

  Karen snorted. "I don't think he could have survived Lyle."

  Lucy chuckled. "You may be right."

  They dug in. For the first time since arriving, things almost felt normal.

  A soldier stood waiting at the front desk after breakfast. "An escort will arrive soon to bring you to Sunnybrook."

  Lucy nodded. "Thank you."

  Karen leaned against the counter, grinning.

  "We've received quite the promotion! Prisoners to royalty!"

  Hans placed a mock hand over his heart, wiping away an invisible tear.

  "Who knew! My mom would be so proud."

  Karen smirked. "You should write her a letter, telling her how far you've come."

  Hans sighed dramatically. "Alas, dear mother, they have imprisoned me, interrogated me, and force-fed me pancakes. But worry not! I am now a distinguished guest of the Quarantine Authority!"

  Lucy laughed, shaking her head.

  For a moment—just a moment—things felt okay. Then—the soldier straightened as footsteps approached.

  Their escort had arrived. Private Hanson was young, maybe nineteen, and far more relaxed than the other soldiers they had encountered. He was also attractive in a way that would likely turn heads back in Brightvale.

  The US military insignias and markings on the Jeep stood out against the dull greenish-gray paint.

  Hans sat up front, beside Hanson, while Lucy and Karen took the back. For most of the ride, silence reigned. Then—Lucy broke it.

  "So, Private Hanson, do you know Sergeant Bailey well?"

  Hanson kept his eyes on the road. "Nope. Only by name. I never met her myself."

  Lucy frowned slightly.

  "I see..."

  That was unfortunate. If he didn't know Bailey, he likely wouldn't know anything about the test subject they overheard or anything else happening behind Northside's walls. There was no use in pressing further.

  Karen leaned forward, resting her arms on the back of Hanson's seat.

  "Do you have a girlfriend?"

  Hanson let out a small, embarrassed chuckle. "I do not," he admitted. "We're not allowed such things... No time anyway."

  Lucy tilted her head. "You're not allowed to have relations?"

  Hanson shook his head. "Nope."

  Karen grinned mischievously.

  "Wow. So you're all virgins?"

  Lucy's face burned.

  "KAREN!"

  Hans immediately put his head in his hands. "Jesus, Karen... you're the worst."

  Hanson, to his credit, just laughed. "I never have myself," he admitted. "Can't say anything about the others."

  Lucy groaned. "Drop the subject! Please!"

  Hans groaned even louder. "Yes, please do."

  Karen rolled her eyes. "Lighten up! When was the last time you got to tease a soldier who didn't want to arrest you?"

  Hanson grinned. "She has a point."

  Lucy shook her head again. "No... no, she doesn't."

  Hans muttered, "She really doesn't."

  The military jeep rumbled to a stop in front of a quiet, picturesque suburban house. Hans leaned forward slightly, taking in the pristine streets, neatly trimmed lawns, and houses that seemed to have been preserved in time. It was jarring. After everything they had seen in Northside—the concrete walls, the cold, sterile halls, the military presence—it was almost unnatural to see something so tranquil.

  Hanson put the Jeep in park, stretching slightly.

  "Here it is. Try not to take up too much of Mr. Trevor's time."

  Karen snorted. "'Mr. Trevor?'"

  Hanson chuckled. "Yes. He's a brilliant kid. He fixes and builds tons of things for us, so his time is very valuable."

  Karen's eyebrow perked up, a grin at her lips. "Gosh, I knew he was a dork, but I didn't know he was that smart."

  Hanson laughed lightly. "I guess. Of course, he received training, but his performance was exceptional.

  Lucy tilted her head. "You went to school with him? You're like, three years apart."

  Hanson nodded. "Yeah. Classes here are all ages together. I wasn't quite as smart, so I'm here."

  Karen smirked. "And now, he's 'Mr. Trevor.'"

  Lucy glanced out the window again, eyes scanning the seemingly perfect neighborhood. "And this was at the all-boys school?"

  "Yeah."

  Lucy's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is there an all-girls school too?"

  "I, uhh... well..." Hanson trailed off.

  The hesitation lasted just a second too long. A quick—"Yeah, kinda," followed.

  Lucy and Karen exchanged glances. "Kinda?" she pressed.

  Hanson's posture shifted ever so slightly, but his tone stayed casual.

  "We can't discuss things with civilians, but yes, that's it."

  Hans, sitting quietly up front, didn't say a word.

  "Anyways," Hanson continued, clearly eager to change the subject, "you'll probably want to explore during your visit. There's a market town close by and an entertainment district. You can ask one of the soldiers for directions. Just stay away from the center of Northside."

  "Why?" Hans quietly asked.

  "Well, that's where we keep our prisoners. You can't get in there anyway, but just to let you know."

  Lucy blinked. "You keep prisoners in the center of all this?"

  Hanson nodded. "Yup! That's where our prison is."

  Karen frowned. "That can't be safe at all..."

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Hanson laughed. "Don't worry! The prison is right in the center, separated by a wall and a humongous moat. Let's just say you don't wanna fall in there."

  Lucy exchanged a look with Karen. "Besides the obvious, why is that?"

  Hanson grinned. "It's filled with spikes and shards, plus all the explosives. There's another wall separating that. Not to mention the army of soldiers stationed around the whole thing. The criminals have nowhere to go."

  Lucy sat back. "That's... quite unbelievable."

  Karen smirked. "I bet it looks swell!"

  Hans muttered, "I bet it doesn't..."

  Hanson chuckled. "Ha, it is pretty neat. Unfortunately, you won't be able to see it. Hopefully not anyway!"

  Karen leaned forward dramatically. "Unfortunately!"

  Lucy shook her head, deciding this conversation had gone far enough.

  "Thank you for the information, Pvt. Hanson. We should be going."

  Hanson nodded. "Of course. I'll be here tomorrow morning to bring you back to see Sgt. Bailey."

  "Until then."

  Karen shot Hanson a playful wink. "See you tomorrow, handsome!"

  Hans, barely looking up from his lap, soberly bobbed his head once.

  The trio walked up the front path as Pvt. Hanson's jeep rumbled away, leaving them in front of the pristine, suburban home.

  Lucy glanced at the house. "So, what's he like? I don't remember."

  "He was always a bit... weird. He has a funny way of talking. It's kinda cute. You'll see."

  Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Right. I was never fond of him myself."

  Karen grinned. "I love it! He's like a little talking robot."

  Lucy chuckled, shaking her head. "If you say so."

  She knocked on the door, waiting momentarily, then pressed the doorbell.

  Not long after, the door creaked open. Trevor stood there—still, unreadable, and very much not speaking. He simply stared at them.

  Lucy gave a polite nod. "Hi."

  Trevor blinked. "Hello."

  Hans raised a hand. "Hi, I'm Hans."

  Trevor nodded slightly, his gaze locked on Hans like he was scanning a new specimen. "Hello, Hans. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

  Karen shifted a bit. "Uh, Trevor, hello? It's me... Karen."

  Trevor's eyes flicked to her.

  "Oh yes, I remember you. You used to engage in unauthorized duplication of my homebound assignments, then systematically ignored all attempts at verbal engagement during our academic years."

  Lucy laughed, turning to Karen. "Is that right?"

  Karen crossed her arms. "Hearsay!" She cleared her throat. "Can we come in?"

  Trevor didn't move. "Why?"

  Karen gestured dramatically. "Oh, we were just in town, and I thought I'd check up on my ol' buddy Trev!"

  Trevor didn't blink. "We are not companions."

  Hans smirked. "Wow, Karen... what a nice lead you brought us to."

  Karen glared at him. "Shut up, Hans! Can we come in or not?"

  Trevor looked around, scanning the perimeter like he was verifying security protocols. Then, after a long pause—

  "...Fine."

  They stepped inside, and just like the rest of Sunnybrook, the house was spotless—immaculate, untouched by time. It looked exactly like life before the plague.

  Lucy glanced around. "Nice place."

  "Thank you."

  Karen looked around. "Nobody's home?"

  "No."

  Lucy scanned the clean home. "Is it just you living here? It's such a big house."

  "Correct."

  Lucy hesitated. "Why?"

  Trevor folded his hands behind his back.

  "Technically, it is just me and my sister, whom you've met; but since she predominantly remains stationed on base, yes, functionally speaking, I am the sole resident of this domicile."

  Karen stretched uncomfortably. "Where are your parents? Or…?"

  Trevor's response was blunt, direct, and almost clinical. "They've perished."

  Lucy's expression softened. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

  Hans nodded. "Yeah, my condolences."

  Karen frowned deeply. "That's dreadful! I'm so sorry. My mom didn't make it either."

  Trevor nodded once. "That is a shame. She was a pleasant lady."

  Karen's throat tightened. "She was..."

  Her mind drifted, but before the silence could linger too long, Lucy stepped in, changing the conversation.

  "So! What do you do here? We heard you make gizmos for the QA."

  Trevor's eyes lit up.

  "That is correct. I tinker, fix, or otherwise build many-a-things for them. My inventions will single-handedly save and otherwise reclaim this planet, ensuring mankind's continued and utter survival."

  Lucy, Karen, and Hans glanced at each other, suppressing smiles.

  Trevor continued, undeterred. "I know it sounds absurd, but I assure you, my brain will outsmart, outthink, and outgun this disaster. Mark my words."

  Lucy raised an eyebrow. "How? What exactly do you make?"

  Trevor lifted his chin.

  "You would not comprehend my work, but I appreciate the interest. Needless to say, and long story short, we will win because of me. The QA protects and ensures our survival so that individuals like myself can continue to bring mankind into the future. They have my utmost respect—no one else could do it better. God bless America."

  The three of them just stared at him. Karen, in particular, was wide-eyed, brows raised.

  After a long shake—

  "I told you he was smart."

  Lucy chuckled. "I'm quite speechless."

  Hans swayed slowly. "Yeah, I really hope that's true."

  "It is."

  Lucy glanced around the house before turning back to Trevor. "I don't mean to impose, but it's very urgent. Karen tells me your grandfather is from Canada? And knows French?"

  Trevor stared at her momentarily. Karen, sensing hesitation, quickly chimed in.

  "You can trust her. She's a detective!"

  Trevor exhaled through his nose.

  "I know who she is. I was briefed and made the connection with the Sinclair name, formulating an effortless assumption that there was absolutely, positively, no doubt in my mind, a direct relation between her and Detective Sinclair. Why else would someone neither armed to the teeth nor engaged in an official mission arrive at my doorstep?"

  There was a brief pause, then he continued as if nothing had happened.

  "But yes, Karen was indeed correct."

  Karen grinned, nudging Lucy. "Told ya!"

  Lucy's eyes lit up as she dug into her bag and pulled out the notebook.

  "I found this notebook. It's in French, and Karen said you could probably read it! If you can translate it all, that'd be even better—if you're not too busy."

  Trevor accepted the notebook, flipping through the pages with quick, calculated glances.

  "It is a bold request you ask of me, Ms. Sinclair, as I am indeed a very busy individual."

  He paused, looking back at her, a faint smile forming.

  "It is your lucky day, however, for I have no project at this time requiring my immediate attention. And I will admit, a hasty glance has piqued my curiosity enough to oblige your request. I can have a manuscript prepared by tomorrow, before your departure."

  Lucy's jaw dropped. "Wait, seriously?!"

  Karen pumped a fist. "Heck yeah! I told you he's the best."

  Trevor nodded solemnly. "I am undoubtedly, undeniably, and without reason to believe otherwise... the best."

  Hans sighed, shaking his head—but for once, he was smiling. "Finally, we're getting somewhere!"

  Karen and Hans continued to engage Trevor in conversation; Lucy drifted away.

  The house was spotless, just like the rest of Sunnybrook. She ran her fingers along the edges of a bike chain, left coiled neatly on a table. It was probably part of one of Trevor's so-called "inventions," but all she could think about was the day her father taught her to ride.

  How many times had she fallen? How many times had he told her to get back up?

  Her gaze drifted to an ugly vase sitting atop a shelf. The vase bore a striking resemblance to the one she had gifted to her mother when she was a child—the same one that had suffered a knock and shattered. She could still remember crying with her mother, devastated over the loss, only for her dad to sneak away and return with a replacement, pretending it was the same one, miraculously whole again.

  The memory felt warm and distant—like it belonged to another life. Another person.

  Lucy turned toward the walls. Two movie posters caught her eye.

  The Fourth Man—a noir crime thriller, its tagline visible: Trust No One. It reminded her, unsettlingly, of what she was doing now.

  Beside it, another title: She Rode a Crimson Trail—a gritty western she'd once watched with Ollie.

  There were band posters, too.

  The Soot Marks, a band she used to love.

  Frankie Solano; although not exactly her style, her dad had a soft spot for him.

  And, Dolly Rae, a singer who gained fame for her performances at The Jefferson Jazz Joint.

  Each detail made her feel strangely detached, as if she had stepped into an alternate version of the past.

  Then—her eyes landed on a picture.

  It was a family photo, or perhaps just a group photo.

  She stepped closer. Trevor is noticeably younger. His parents are standing tall. Sergeant Bailey appeared considerably less intimidating than she did the day before.

  However, the two other figures caused Lucy's breath to catch in her throat.

  The first was Ethan Bennett. The QA had arrested him hours before the explosion.

  And the second...

  Her heart sank, and she got a knot in her stomach.

  The man she saw running from the burning house.

  The face was the same—unmistakable—seared into her memory.

  She swallowed hard.

  The notebook, the dog tags.

  They must have belonged to him.

  She stepped back, the muffled conversation behind her growing louder, though it barely registered through the haze of her thoughts.

  Then—a voice cut through.

  "Lucy? Hello?"

  She blinked, turning toward Karen. Her friend was watching her, concern written across her face. Trevor was approaching from the other side of the room. Hans had already stepped outside.

  Karen frowned. "What's wrong?"

  Lucy hesitated. For a brief second, she considered telling her—telling both of them. But instead, she forced herself to shake it off— bury it for now. She looked away from Karen's probing eyes, back at the framed photograph on the wall.

  "Hey, Trevor..."

  Trevor stopped mid-step, folding his hands neatly behind his back.

  "Yes?"

  Lucy gulped. "This picture—what is it? Is this your family?"

  Trevor barely glanced at it before responding, his tone perfectly matter-of-fact. "Yes. That is a photograph showcasing yours truly, my parents, my loving sister, and otherwise individuals of close familial relations."

  "Judging by the other photos in the house, this must be your mom, dad, and sister. So... who's this?"

  She pointed to Mr. Bennett.

  "That is Mr. Ethan Bennett. He was a companion of my father."

  Lucy's breath hitched slightly. "I recognize him from Brightvale. He owns the shop Ethan's Electronics."

  Trevor gave a tiny nod. "That is correct. Though I do not know what became of him or his lovely store since my departure."

  Lucy and Karen exchanged a look—both equally concerned. Lucy hesitated before speaking again.

  "He's fine..." she lied.

  She turned her attention to the second man in the photo.

  "Who's this other man?"

  Trevor glanced at the picture again.

  "That is my uncle."

  Lucy's stomach tightened. The knot in her gut grew heavier.

  "Are you close with him?"

  Trevor shook his head, his response smooth—and without hesitation.

  "No. I have not seen him for an extended period, in which I do not recall."

  Lucy sighed softly. "What's his name?"

  Trevor's response was simple, direct, and completely unaware of the weight it carried.

  "Marin Porter. From my mother's side."

  Lucy didn't recognize the name at all. "I see... Well, hey! We should get going. See what Northside has to offer before we go home tomorrow."

  Karen perked up. "You should come with us!"

  Trevor's expression didn't change. "I cannot."

  Karen pouted. "Aww, come on!"

  Trevor shook his head. "I must remain here. Or otherwise in the localized vicinity."

  Lucy's raised one brow. "Why?"

  For the first time, Trevor hesitated. Something flickered across his face, as if he'd said something he shouldn't have. Then, with a swift posture adjustment, he rolled into a far more arrogant response.

  "I simply imply that I am a man of ample sophistication; therefore, I find it quite displeasurable to engage in verbal communication with the... average folk, as it were."

  Lucy scoffed. "You're pretty cocky, huh?"

  Trevor lifted his chin. "I have no reason to believe otherwise. With the QA's continued assistance, I have helped many-a-people. And I will continue to do so."

  Karen crossed her arms, leaning back. "With their assistance, huh? Are you sure it's not the other way around?"

  Trevor blinked, then shrugged.

  "You may be right, Miss Karen Surname-in-which-I-cannot-remember. However, if we cannot beat this pathogen without my continued scientific and otherwise mechanical expertise—who's actually assisting who?"

  Karen's smirk reduced slightly—a more intrigued look playing across her features.

  "It's Baxtor," she corrected.

  Trevor inclined his head slightly.

  "Miss Karen Baxtor. I will not be accompanying you and your compadre here on your galivanting around our wonderful QZ. Especially if I am to translate this darn thing in time for your return to Brightvale."

  Lucy sighed but nodded. "Thank you again for that."

  Trevor waved it off. "Think nothing of it. Even if I did not enjoy your presence, I would comply regardless, as I wish to know what is scribbled down in said sheets of paper."

  "You can't do that while 'galivanting'?"

  Trevor gave Karen a look. "I can, but I will not. I also supremely believe I would not be a suitable galivanting companion that would provide the necessary levels of entertainment that you two girls may require."

  Lucy sighed, shaking her head in frustration as she walked away. "Okay. Bye, Trevor. Thanks again."

  Karen lingered a moment.

  "I disagree."

  She stepped past him, heading for the doorway—then, just before stepping out, she turned back and gave a small, awkward gesture.

  "Just sayin'."