Z 2134 (10 page)

She wanted to go back to the church, or
even the secret apartment, to see if Duncan, Red Beard, and Liam were OK. But
she didn’t dare go near any of them. Chances were good that all three men had
gone wherever fugitives went while hiding. Or perhaps they’d even been arrested
already.

She watched the news on TV every morning
and night, waiting to hear anything about the incident at the church. But there
hadn’t been a single word. Nothing.

Something about that scared Ana more than
if the news had run a story about a terrorist group being broken up but covered
up the murders of the innocent. They weren’t whitewashing the story.

They weren’t reporting any of it.

She couldn’t help but feel like that was
an ominous sign that Watchers were still investigating, and they might come
banging on her door at any minute and drag her off to some dark cell for
interrogation.

If The Watchers had already got any of
the men, she wondered how long would it be before Liam or Red Beard told The
Watchers where they could find her? She didn’t see Duncan giving her up. He’d
already stood his ground in the church basement. But she didn’t know Red Beard.
And Liam…

Well, Liam was pissed at her. She
couldn’t imagine him protecting her, the same person he’d called a “brat.”

If Liam or Red Beard gave her up, The Watchers
would come for her next. Because now it wasn’t about just finding members of
The Underground. Now it was about burying the truth. And getting rid of anyone
who knew it.

If they could do it to her father, they
could do it to her.

IF
they had done it to her father.

Because despite everything that happened,
Ana couldn’t ignore her memory’s architecture. Too many of the ceilings and
moldings and floors inside her mind were of her own design, making it
difficult, and in weaker moments impossible, to truly believe that a lie could
be holding the whole house up.

Just because a pastor — who might have
been crazy and was definitely a criminal, at least according to The City — said
it was all a sham implanted in her brain, and her dad was innocent, didn’t make
her memory a lie.

She wished she could talk to Michael or
Adam; either one might help her untangle the situation, but she couldn’t be
sure until she was certain that Duncan was either right or wrong. While she was
uncertain, there was no point in muddying everyone else’s reality.

Though she and Michael both worked at the
same factory, and on the same floor, Ana was stationed in D-Section and he was
in F, so their work paths rarely intersected. Sometimes, on rare occasions,
they were able to eat lunch together.

On the third day following the church
incident, she had to clock out early to make sure she could take lunch with
Michael. She wouldn’t tell him, of course, or he would worry that she’d get in
trouble. But she had to see him. And had to talk to him. She had to say
something
.
Though
what
that something would be was still a mystery even as she sat
down across from him.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked,
scooping a spoonful of what the kitchen called oatmeal into his mouth. “I’m
happy we got lunch together today, but it won’t be nearly as fun if you’re
gonna be all mopey. You’re not still thinking about that Liam jerk, are you?”

Ana wrapped her lips around her spoon,
hoping it would trap the tears. She shook her head, nursing the spoon, then
after a minute of breathing, when she felt strong enough to maybe speak, she
popped the spoon from her mouth, plopped it into the bowl, then leaned forward
and whispered.

“I think my dad might have been set up!”

“What?” Michael dropped his spoon and
peered at Ana, almost as though he were angry. “Who have you been talking to?”
he glared at her. “And why have you been listening to their lies? You saw your
father with your own eyes! How can
that
be a setup?”

“What if
they
can implant false
memories in your brain?”

“They can’t,” Michael said. “That’s
impossible.”

“Says who? There are already chips inside
us for tracking and scanning, so The City can do that weird people inventory
they do. Why couldn’t they do other things, too?”

Michael said nothing, chewing on the
thought like unfamiliar food. Finally he said, “I guess it’s
theoretically
possible, but still, doesn’t seem all that likely. Besides, why would anyone
want to mess with your memories or set up your dad? Sounds like a wacky
Underground conspiracy.” He scooped another spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth,
narrowing his eyes at her as if to suggest she’d been talking to Liam.

“I don’t know, Michael.” Ana’s voice
dipped even lower. “I saw things.”

“What things?” Michael narrowed his eyes.
His expression started to shift as he leaned closer, though not by much, and
whispered, “I’m not sure I like where this is going.”

Ana didn’t know where to start, and she
knew she wouldn’t be able to finish even if she did. It was only minutes until
Michael’s lunch was over, and she was eating on stolen time.

“Awful things, Michael,” she whispered
through gritted teeth. “Just terrible.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to
tell you here. Not now, and not with only a minute or two left.” She brought
the spoon to her lips again, but only for a second before lowering it back to
the bowl and leaning all the way forward across the table. “After work, meet me
at The Social, OK?”

Michael said, “OK,” though he looked more
angry than anything else, including concerned. They finished their lunch in
silence, then took their trays to the counter, said goodbye, and returned to
work.

Ana trudged through the rest of the
workday, wishing she’d never brought anything up to Michael, at least not
without being able to finish. Now he was probably worried sick about her. She
hoped he wouldn’t say anything to anyone.

She didn’t think he’d ever betray her
confidence, but she didn’t know what he might do in efforts to protect her — what
damage he might inadvertently cause.

Like the bar.

And Iris and the lady in the church.

Ana shook the blame from her mind before
it poisoned her.

As the day wore on, Ana found herself
wanting to spill her guts to her brother, whether what Duncan said was true or
not. She’d have to wait until after dinner to get him alone. But what would she
say? Adam wanted to believe in their father’s innocence so much, he would
easily buy a City setup. But then he might blame Ana for testifying against
their father and sending him to die outside The Wall.

Ana would have a better idea about what
she thought after speaking to Michael. He would be harder to convince than
anyone she knew. Convincing him would give her the confidence to speak with
Adam.

Ana kept her nose down, counting minutes
until she finished her shift so she could finally ditch the factory and get to
The Social. She’d try another Red Bomb, work up some courage, and then go home
and tell Adam everything.

When Ana’s scheduled workday ended at
6:14, she powered down her station, set her thumb on the scanner to clock out,
then heard the voice of Section-D Supervisor, Trudy Giff, behind her.

“Sorry, Ms. Lovecraft,” she said, “but
you’re going to be working overtime tonight since you left early for lunch this
afternoon — 22 minutes early means 44 minutes of overtime, due immediately.”

Ana boiled with rage, though Trudy Giff
probably couldn’t tell from behind Ana’s fake smile and syrupy sweet voice.
“But I worked my entire shift,” Ana insisted. “And I didn’t take any extra
minutes. I just left a few early, then came back and finished everything for
the day. I’m even ahead with my work and have already started on tomorrow’s.”

It was true. Ana’s sorrow made for a high
level of efficiency.

Trudy Giff shook her head. “I’m sorry,
Ms. Lovecraft, but you took off mandatory work so you could eat with your
friend without prior approval. That’s never permitted. You’ve let me, yourself,
and everyone else in D-Section down.”

Trudy Giff turned without another word
and disappeared from the factory floor. Ana powered her machine back on and
began to feed material through.

After her 44 minutes of punishment were
over, Ana returned her thumb to the scanner. It cleared her to go, then she
stiffly rose from her seat, stretched her back, grabbed her bag, and headed for
the door, hoping Michael wouldn’t be even madder at her when she finally got to
The Social than he seemed to be at lunch.

The elevators retired each evening at
7:00, so Ana went straight for the stairs, racing to the bottom floor — two
stairs at a time — spilling from the factory and out onto the City 6 streets
only a few minutes later.

She would get to Michael, gain some
perspective, go home to Chimney Rock for a good night’s sleep, then wake in the
morning and tell Adam everything after breakfast. After that, she would figure
her next move and maybe deal with the possibility that she had betrayed her
father.

It was a reasonable plan, but none of it
would ever happen.

Two blocks from The Social, a rough,
gloved hand fell onto her shoulder from behind as a synthesized voice filled
her with dread. “Anastasia Lovecraft,” it said. “You’re under arrest by
authority of City Watch.”

A
nastasia felt like little more than
luggage.

Her arms were yanked behind her back, her
hands roughly cuffed, and then her body was tossed into a large, unlit cargo
hold in the back of a black, windowless van. The van’s door hummed with the
same unsettling electric warble that hummed around The Wall, or even the
invisible “gate” surrounding Lookout Gardens, where citizens could stare outside
The City, eating open-faced sandwiches while watching grazing zombies.

The front of the van slid open, then
closed, followed by a muffled
thwap
behind the solid wall between cabin
and cargo box. A second later the engine purred, and Ana pictured the giant
tires of the raised van peeling from the City curb.

She kicked at the van walls and screamed,
“Let me out!” and “Help!” but she was answered by nothing but silence as the
van gained speed.

The Watchers had come to get her, maybe
even kill her.

Ana had seen what they could, and were
willing, if not eager, to do. She raced through the scenarios in her mind. Why
had they come to get her, and what were they going to do now that she was in
their custody? Had they discovered she was at the church and that she knew what
The Watchers had done to several innocents — that they’d killed a child for
nothing?

If so, Ana was sure she was as good as
next.

She struggled against her handcuffs, the
thin humming magnets biting deeper into her wrists as she pulled harder at her
restraints, tugging with all her strength against them, not stopping until they
felt like they might slice her hands clean off if she kept at it.

Ana wanted to scream or cry, but kept
everything inside instead. Emotional control was her only shield, and she had
no sword to speak of. She had to stay strong, prepare for whatever would happen
when the van stopped and the doors opened.

Maybe she could save herself if she was
smart enough to see opportunity’s arrival.

Ana closed her eyes, trying to calm her
thoughts, and turned her mind to Adam — how sweet he was, and how she would
still think that even if he weren’t her brother.

When Adam was five, they used to lie
outside together, under the stars, on the top of their roof. There was one
stretch when they didn’t miss a single night for nearly a month. The clouds
were always too thick and dark, but there was a two-month period back then when
much of the sky went clear for some reason. It looked like the atmosphere was
getting better, but then it got bad again and hadn’t been clear since. Now, the
only time Ana saw a clear or sunny sky was when watching a City 7 promo.

Those nights when she and Adam stared at
the stars together were magical. Every wish made then was a wish never
forgotten, even if it was a wish that would never come true. He spent much of
the time asking her questions — the normal stuff that kids ask a million times
and a million different ways. But while many kids were annoyed by their younger
siblings’ endless questions, Ana loved being a big sister and having him look
up to her. She had all the answers back then.

But now, as she lay helpless in a van,
she had none.

She thought of Adam. If she were locked
up, or worse, killed, he would be truly lost.

The pain formed a knot in her throat, and
she wanted to cry.

But she had to be strong.

For Adam.