Z 2134

of her mom painting, walks with her parents in the park, her first fight with her mom, and her first, and last, kiss with Bobby Long — the only boy she had allowed herself to like, until he turned out to be a big jerk.
    These memories blurred with that of her father standing over her mother’s dead body.
    They seemed no different. No less real. But if one was a lie, how could she know that all of them weren’t? If the truth wasn’t memory, then the truth was a lie. If memory could be faked, then what else in her life was false?
    Ana found no solace, no matter where she went. Every eye was on her, even when they weren’t. She had no clue whom to trust, or worse, what to do. She was no longer confident of where the line stood between fact and fiction and had no idea where in her world was a true window to truth.
    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