The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(33)

“I signed up for Death-Cast, and they called me.”

She’s quiet and so still that I think the call has frozen out in this hallway.

“No,” Scarlett finally says.

I don’t know the full sequence of the stages of grief, but I know the first is denial.

“Stop crying, Val, this is so not a thing,” Scarlett says. Unfortunately, her poker face is worse than ever. “These Death-Cast operators are total newbies. They don’t know what they’re doing.”

“I—I spoke with Joaquin. Joaquin Rosa.”

I manage to get those words out because we can’t play pretend. If Joaquin Rosa is screwing up End Day calls, then that whole operation needs to be shut down this moment. But maybe Scarlett will have another argument that I can’t counter. Something to give me hope.

“Well, did Mr. Death-Cast tell you how he thinks you’re going to die? Because if not, then we shouldn’t put too much weight on his little educated guess. It might be an uneducated guess! We have no idea how Death-Cast even works. This is why we didn’t sign up.”

Scarlett tries staying strong, but she cracks. Something else we have in common is we’re both ugly criers. I would be mortified if anyone photographed me while I was this red in the face and wiping snot whereas Scarlett might rip out someone’s eyes. Even now when it’s just us, she’s hiding behind her hand, and I can make out the moon in the background.

“Val, this doesn’t make sense. You’re fine! Why is this happening?”

I shake my head.

“Did you tell Mom and Dad?”

“No. I’m not ready for another talk about how I’m going to hell.”

“They better not be self-righteous about this or we’ll never talk to them again.” That promise is alive and well in Scarlett’s eyes for a whole second before she realizes I can’t honor it with her. Or that I can, but not in the way she’s intending. The next wave of tears flood down her face. “Val, I need to catch my flight. I’ll be there by the morning.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t come,” I say, even though it’s the opposite of what I want. I need to say goodbye to my sister in person. I’m protective of her, though. “It might be safer for you if you don’t.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you alone,” Scarlett says, unlocking her car door and settling into the driver’s seat.

I’m flashing back to the day she almost died. “Scar, stop. You can’t drive in this condition. Just sit and breathe.”

Once she calms down, we take deep breaths together, until her heavy cry quiets into a whimper.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m not going to be alone. I made some new friends in Times Square. This is Dalma’s phone and—”

Scarlett’s eyes widen, and she leans forward, like when we’re watching a thriller and she figures out the twist. “But what if they’re the reason you—”

“They’re not going to kill me. They actually convinced me to sign up for Death-Cast. They’re really good people.”

“You can’t know that. They’re strangers.”

“And despite that, Orion saved my life.”

She’s quiet, like she’s processing how she got the plot twist wrong. “What do you mean he saved your life?”

This is all scary enough. Telling her that I was shot at isn’t going to keep her calm enough to drive safely to the airport so she can catch her flight.

“I had a close call, but I’m okay.”

“No you’re not.” She closes her eyes.

I don’t ask if she’s praying. That’s her business.

“Scar, you’re going to miss your flight if you don’t leave soon.”

Scarlett collects herself. “Okay. I should land around nine your time. Do you want to meet me at the airport? No, matter of fact, stay put. Are you home right now?” She squints. “No you’re not. We have ugly beige walls that need a paint job, not white. Where are you?”

I can’t go into why I’m at the hospital. If I tell her I’m signing off on being a heart donor and need her by my side when I go brain-dead, then she’ll never make it to the airport in one piece. We can talk about this in person. “I’m with Dalma and Orion. But I’m headed home soon.”

She wants to push for more information but resigns. “Stay put. I’ll see you soon.”

“Scarlett, before you go . . . you should register for Death-Cast. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Scar.”

“I love you same, Val.”

We don’t hang up. It’s like we’re not sure if we’ll ever see each other again. We certainly won’t see each other if she misses her flight.

“Drive safely, sis. Pay extra attention to the road this time of night.”

Putting pressure on her to focus on her journey instead of my upcoming destination is the only way to make sure she doesn’t leave this world with me.





Orion


2:38 a.m.

I press my hands to my chest, feeling my steady heartbeats. It’s like my heart is finally behaving because it knows we’re going to evict it.

I look at my X-ray again, thinking about how if I ever write about this experience, I can use this as the book cover. Or maybe I’ll set the X-ray on fire so I don’t have to think about all these years where my insides were ugly and murderous like some hell beast. Nah, I can’t do that. Turning my back on my past means not remembering Valentino’s lifesaving contribution. Shit, that’s assuming any of this works. I don’t know what we’ll do if my body rejects his heart, or how much time we’ll even have to try something before I reach my own dead end.