The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(110)

Dalma’s app is going to form some incredible connections, but it’s a double-edged sword that can’t be wielded by the faint of heart. The Last Friend must understand that not only will the Decker die, they may also witness the death. That’s scarring. But not all scars are bad. I look down at the one across my chest.

The scar that says I was more than Valentino’s Last Friend.


5:17 p.m.

“When did he die? What time?”

Just as I want to know everything about Valentino’s life, the same goes for his death.

Dr. Emeterio stops studying my charts and pulls out her clipboard. “Valentino passed at 9:11 p.m.”

Nine.

Eleven.

Just when I thought those numbers couldn’t become more haunting.


6:17 p.m.

“You have a guest,” Dalma says in the doorway of my new room.

I’m guessing my guest isn’t one of the fam. “Who is it?”

“Scarlett.”

My heart—Valentino’s heart—is screaming with heartbeats.

“Are you in the mood for company?” Dalma asks.

No, but there’s no saying no.

Not to the twin of the boy who gave me his heart.

It’s a good thing that I wasn’t surprised by Scarlett’s arrival because she reminds me more of Valentino than I expected. Her energy matches his from when Valentino and I were first at the hospital last night—I mean, the other night, time is weird. Valentino was trying to accept his fate, and Scarlett is now doing the same. That’s going to take a long time.

Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and her face is clean of makeup, and she’s paler than she appeared on FaceTime.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” Dalma says, closing the door behind her.

I try sitting up, but I don’t have the strength yet. “Hi. When’d you get in?”

Scarlett doesn’t say anything for a long time. Then when she does speak, she doesn’t even answer the question. She only says, “Thanks.”

“Oh, don’t thank me for shit. Your brother is the hero here.”

I don’t correct myself by marking Valentino in the past tense.

“You were there for Val when I couldn’t be,” Scarlett says as she drags a chair over to my bed and sits. She fishes Valentino’s camera out of her bag. “Valentino said this camera business was your idea.”

“He deserved to be seen. I’m sorry you couldn’t be there to capture the memories yourself.”

“I would’ve loved that. I feel robbed.”

“You were robbed.”

He was the model, she was the photographer—two halves of the same coin, making each other look great.

“Thanks for documenting his final day.” Scarlett switches on the camera, and for a second, I’m scared it won’t work, like it would’ve taken the same damage as my phone. She scrolls back to the beginning of the gallery. “Can you walk me through memory lane?”

I haven’t had the heart—yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, I know, let me live my life—to go through the pictures myself yet. This was going to be one of the last things I lived with Valentino. Instead, I’ll go down memory lane with his sister, sparing no detail.

This will be the first of many times I honor Valentino.





August 6, 2010





Joaquin Rosa


2:07 a.m.

Death-Cast did not call Joaquin Rosa because he is not dying today. Neither is his company.

What some believed to be an experiment doomed from the start has been recognized as a successful program.

This past week alone has seen changes: domestic airlines coordinating all flights to not depart until after their pilots have been cleared with hopes to expand these measures to passengers as well; police officers and detectives wanting to partner with Death-Cast on their investigations, such as missing persons cases to preserve their resources if the missing party is beyond rescuing; scientists preparing clinical trials to test on Deckers with payment going to the deceased’s family or charity of choice; the military increasing pressure to keep Death-Cast within the United States alone, but Joaquin will indeed be expanding the program to all the other interested countries because he doesn’t want Death-Cast used as a weapon, he wants it to be a savior for all around the world; and most touchingly, doctors are advocating for updated practices as to how to proceed with their patients, especially after one Decker’s passing on the first day of Death-Cast led to another person’s saving through a heart donation.

That wasn’t any Decker.

It was Valentino Prince, the very first Decker whom Joaquin called when Death-Cast went live.

All isn’t as well as it can be, of course. While there were record-high new subscribers after the first night, polls are still showing that millions are uncomfortable. Some even believe that Death-Cast personally hired the skull-mask killer to coordinate an attack in Times Square, as if the program needed to sell fear to make the service a success. Joaquin has no affiliation with that killer—or any of the other aggressors wearing skull masks that evening who caused havoc—and while the killer was responsible for the very first recorded death on inception night, Joaquin fears it won’t be the last time they stage an attack as an act of protest. Unfortunately, Joaquin still doesn’t have a magic crystal ball to divine these sorts of things so the mystery lives on.