There is something rotting in Harrisville.

It's 1944 and Veronica works so she can afford to eat. Maybe one day she will save enough to own the home her family is living in, but for now, she doesn't have time for fanciful thoughts, or much else. She doesn't have time for the fire whispering to her, the ghosts trying to talk to her and the son of her boss, who can't stop staring at her. She definitely doesn't have time to think about Lazlo, the handsome black soldier that she processed at the draft office, but she can't seem to stop herself. As her ability to ignore Lazlo evaporates, so does her self-imposed ignorance about her hometown. There is, and always has been, something rotten in Harrisville. It shouldn't have been a surprise. After all, Veronica works in the cigarette factory, where corpses hide in the tobacco with the roaches.