“You don’t want The Huntsman catching you, Emmet, trust me,” Fritz was guiding me through the woods back to the cabin. According to him, no one has ever actually seen the Huntsman. In fact, Fritz may be the only person in Elk Valley that knows he exists, and even he hasn’t seen him. He said the campsite always moves, the Golden Elk was always there, and the only thing he left behind was a pile of smoldering embers. There was no way of knowing if The Huntsman was dangerous, but I was beginning to learn that Fritz tended to be overly cautious about these sorts of things. I added “The Huntsman” to my ever-growing list of possible investigatory leads.

  “Where have you been?” Fritz asked.

  “I don’t know, after my date with Anne I ended up in the hospital with a baseball-sized lump on the back of my head. I have no idea what happened, I was actually hoping you might have heard something about it.”

  “Holy moly, Library Anne? And Elsie? Some guys have all the luck,” he put his hands in his pockets and kicked at the ground like a Charlie Brown character.

  Fritz didn’t have any information about why I ended up in the hospital, but he supposed it was safe to assume Johnny had something to do with it. That was my first instinct as well, but why would he still be going after me? Since that night at Al’s, I’ve been avoiding both him and Elsie like the plague.

  While I had Fritz back in the cabin, it was finally time to get some answers about Elk Valley. As I could have guessed, he didn’t have any hard proof of, well, anything. He had plenty of theories, however, such as half of the town being alien body-snatchers, or Elk Valley being an elaborate government mind-control experiment. Ordinarily, I’d have written this guy off as a conspiracy nut, but a few months ago I was in 2025, and there was definitely something up with this town. Fritz also had a list of a dozen names from the past five years that he speculated might also be from another time. According to him, seven of those names had since disappeared, including George, which was not a great sign for me.

  As the sun came up, I decided it was time to call it a night. I’d gotten all the information I could out of Fritz for now, and as much as I enjoyed his company, these conspiracy theories were becoming exhausting.

  The next day, I went back to the library to return my latest haul of borrowed books and, more accurately, ask Anne out again. Valentine’s Day was coming up, and after our first successful date, I was looking forward to another.

  When the day finally came, I picked her up from her apartment at around 5. She looked absolutely stunning. The tied back librarian updo made way for effortless brown locks, and she wore a flowy pink dress that reminded me of something Marilyn Monroe might wear.

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  “Wow,” I said, lacking the cognition to form any type of coherent thought. “You look… Wow.”

  She blushed and took my arm.

  “So, Emmett, where are we going?”

  This time I made an effort to find a nicer place to go than Starlight. I didn’t expect to find much, and I wasn’t far off on that. It was between a classic Italian red sauce joint that seemed like the type of place Frank Sinatra would frequent and a steakhouse with an extensive seafood menu. Figuring the 1957 spaghetti and meatballs wouldn’t exactly be Michelin star quality, I decided on the steakhouse.

  “Well, I’ve never been to any of these places, but I got us a table at Gene’s. I hope that’s alright?”

  “Wow, Gene’s, I’m a lucky gal!”

  At that moment, I realized I hadn’t checked Gene’s prices, and hoped she couldn’t hear my clearly audible nervous gulp. It was a special occasion, and Anne made me happy, so the Zenith would have to wait a little longer.

  I was still getting used to budgeting with 1950s money, but eight bucks for a bottle of champagne, shrimp cocktail, a Caesar Salad, and a 12oz strip steak didn’t seem like a bad deal. Anne even offered to split it, which I thought was very modern, but I told her she could get dessert at Ray’s instead. Somehow it felt like this date went even better than the first, and I could feel myself falling hard for Anne.

  I walked her home after a chocolate malted at Rays, extra cherries. We were so stuffed after Gene’s, we could hardly finish it, but I think we both wanted to make the date last as long as possible. Before we knew it, we found ourselves in front of Anne’s quaint little apartment building.

  “I had a really delightful time tonight, Emmett.”

  I smiled.

  “Hey so,” she looked down and grabbed her arm, bashfulness consuming her body language. “Would you like to come in, you know, for a nightcap?”

  Second date seemed a bit fast for this type of thing, especially for the 1950s, but I’d had such a pleasant evening and I didn’t want it to end. How could I say no?

  She led me up the stairs to the second floor, apartment 2A. It was sparsely decorated, but stylish and refined, like a college professor’s might be, or I guess a librarian’s. I noticed all the books on her bookshelf were clearly taken from the library, which even further endeared me to her. We took off our coats, and she removed her red stiletto heels and opened up a classic globe bar cart.

  “Whiskey?” I nodded in the affirmative. Did everyone in the 50s have whiskey on hand at all times? Maybe I was born in the wrong decade.

  I took one sip, and she kissed me again, taking the glass from my hand and placing it back on the cart. She pulled away and giggled.

  “Make yourself at home, I’m going to change into something a little more comfortable.”

  She walked off to the bedroom and put her hair up, and I noticed something I hadn’t seen before. The dress’s cut revealed a large 1990s-style butterfly tattoo right between her shoulders.

  - Emmett Brewer, falling in love