The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(105)

Dalma feels as if she is a first responder, determined to save Orion’s life, knowing in her own heart that he would run toward danger to save hers too.





Orion


6:47 p.m.

Everything is mad hazy.

I’m seeing stars, but I’m not in space.

My head is on a pillow, but I’m not in bed.

Valentino’s arm is across my chest, but he’s not holding me close.

There were gunshots, but I’m not dead.

I fight to get my eyes open and then immediately regret it when I see the blood smeared all over my boyfriend’s beautiful face like something out of a horror movie. I want to return to the darkness where I can imagine—no, remember—being in bed with Valentino as he holds me close in a room that’s quiet except for our breathing.

I try shaking him awake, but he’s still trying to sleep, which fine, I get it, we haven’t had a ton of rest on his End Day, but we don’t have a lot of time left, and we still have to go down memory lane together. Valentino wanted—wants—to see how our first picture came out together, that fucking selfie, a word that we both fucking hate, that’s not supposed to outlive him.

Maybe I can wake him up with some Sleeping Beauty–type kiss because this can’t be how it ends, please don’t let this be how it ends.

I press my lips to Valentino’s, but he doesn’t snap awake and kiss me back.

His chest is slowly rising.

There’s hope, there’s hope, there’s hope, hope, hope.

I just don’t understand something.

If his heart is beating, why doesn’t it feel like he’s alive?





Dalma Young


6:47 p.m.

Dalma’s heart is pounding, scared she might bump into the killer or see her best friend’s corpse.

One feels worse than the other.

She makes it to the fifth floor, Floyd right behind her, and at the bottom of the next flight of stairs is Orion and Valentino, surrounded by the donated pillows and bedding as if they decided to set up camp and rest in the stairway. She’s relieved that Orion is crying, because crying means he’s alive, but her heart breaks for what this means for Valentino.

“Orion . . .”

He doesn’t even seem to register her. He’s just begging Valentino to wake up.

If Dalma died, this is how she imagines Orion would react, and they’ve known each other their entire lives. But her best friend is crying this hard over a boyfriend he’s only known for a day—not even!—and she knows this pain is just as true as it would be losing her.

This death will stay with Orion for the rest of his life.

Here’s hoping it’s a long one.

“He’s still alive,” Floyd says, examining Valentino.

“He wasn’t shot?” Dalma asks.

“No, no, no, he got kicked down the stairs,” Orion says.

Dalma looks up to the sixth floor, glimpsing an open door and hearing crying.

Could the killer be upstairs? Is there another place they could have escaped, like a ladder to the roof like she has at home? Or will they be rushing down at any moment? If they’re not wearing a creepy skull mask like that killer in Times Square, will they take out Dalma and everyone else to leave no witnesses behind?

She wants to drag Orion and Floyd out there, but as long as Valentino is still breathing, Dalma knows Orion won’t leave his side.

“I need some space,” Floyd says, opening Valentino’s eyelids.

Orion refuses to get off his boyfriend.

“He’s trying to save his life,” Dalma says.

The truth is, Dalma lied.

She can’t speak for Floyd, but her eyes and brain and heart are processing what’s really happening here. Valentino is beyond saving. He is going to die, as Death-Cast has predicted, possibly any minute now. But it might not be too late for Orion. It doesn’t have to be his End Day too.

Everything has been building to this moment, this convergence of lives.

“We need to get you both to the hospital,” Floyd says, scooping Valentino up in his arms, surprising strength for someone who’s on the shorter end of life.

Dalma locks her arm with Orion’s, who won’t take his teary eyes off of Valentino, not even as they go down the five flights of stairs. She’s surprised they make it down in one piece, and relieved when they make it out of the building alive.

They escaped the killer, and if all goes well from here, they will live to see another day.

Most of them will, at least.





Gloria Dario


6:48 p.m.

Gloria’s son has killed his father to protect her.

Tears run down sweet, young Pazito’s cheeks.

Sweat glistens off Rolando’s bruised and beaten face.

Blood pools around Frankie like a spilled bucket of red paint.

“Don’t move, Pazito,” Gloria says, eyeing the gun still clutched in her son’s hands.

Pazito is shaking.

One wrong move and Gloria will find herself dead next to her husband. She knows that Pazito won’t harm her, not intentionally, but accidents happen all the time whenever a gun finds its way into someone’s hand, especially a child’s. This weapon shouldn’t have been in their home in the first place, but she couldn’t convince Frankie to get rid of it, and it’s hard arguing with a foul-tempered gun owner. Gloria feels as if she failed Pazito by not fighting harder, by not trying to leave sooner, by putting him in the position to protect her when it should be the other way around. Now, Pazito will be scarred for the rest of his life, haunted by the ghost of the father he killed, and there are no words for how much that breaks Gloria’s heart.