The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(45)

He sits down in his pilot’s chair and answers Death-Cast’s call while staring at the sky.





Scarlett Prince


1:02 a.m. (Mountain Standard Time) Is the pilot going to kill them all?

All Scarlett knows is that once the pilot seals himself inside the cockpit, all hell breaks loose. So many passengers go wild like animals freed from cages, charging to the front of the plane and demanding to be let out. Scarlett wants to do the same, but she’s terrified she’ll be trampled in the pandemonium, so she cowers with her back to the window. Did the pilot attack his copilot because he wants to fly everyone to their deaths? Or is there someone among them in the main cabin who is the greater threat?

It’s hard to hold faith in Death-Cast when they’ve incited this much hysteria.

What if they’re getting things wrong tonight?

Scarlett tries calling that boy Orion’s phone to reach Valentino, but she can’t get a signal.

Maybe a text will go through: Death cast called the pilot.. She types so fast, not giving a shit about proper punctuation. I didnt get a call but everyone is going crazy.

No messages are going through.

I’m scared, Val, she types anyway.

She might as well get used to these one-sided conversations with her brother now.





Orion


4:04 a.m.

Valentino calls Scarlett again, but it keeps going straight to voice mail.

“What if she’s talking to Death-Cast?” he asks, setting down the phone.

The thing is, if Scarlett is getting her End Day call, there’s nothing we can do about that. I just got to offer some support so Valentino doesn’t completely lose his shit.

“If Death-Cast is hitting her up, I bet you anything you’re the first person she’s going to call once she’s off the phone.” I find his eyes in the darkness, seeing him understand. “Scarlett is probably still having service issues.”

“You’re totally right. It took forever for my text to go through earlier on my flight before we took off. The message had just sent before I had to switch to airplane mode, and that was without interference from all the End Day calls.”

“Exactly,” I say, even though I don’t believe he believes in his words. He’s trying to talk himself into that truth, and I respect it.

He rests his head back onto his makeshift pillow. Only to pop up again a second later.

“What if those signal disruptions prevent Death-Cast from reaching Scarlett? Or anyone else on the plane? Or everyone else, even? They could be about to take off, not knowing they’re doomed. It’s not like Death-Cast could call the airlines either and prevent them from departing, since they’re not tracking us like all those conspiracy theorists believe, though in this case, it would actually be really helpful to know if the plane is full of Deckers.”

I let Valentino vomit out every last word, and he’s got me thinking about my parents and all the other 9/11 victims.

If Death-Cast had been around back then and called the thousands of people who died in the towers and the planes and on the grounds, could they have lived? Everything Joaquin Rosa has talked about suggests they would have been killed in other ways, but would I have gotten to see them one more time that day? Would I have watched them die instead of being oblivious for hours that they were dead? There’s a million questions I could ask, just like after watching any movie with major time-travel paradoxes, but unless I can actually rewind time, I’m never going to get an answer.

“It’s times like this I wish I still prayed,” Valentino says. “I’d pray for Scarlett’s safety.”

I’ve never really been religious, but I respect other people’s shit as long as they respect mine. Like whenever we’re at home and about to eat, Team Young takes a second to pray for their blessings and I peacefully sit it out and we all jump into our meal together. It’s all good.

“You stopped praying because of your parents?” I ask.

“I’m aware that my story is as old as the Bible, but my parents made it clear that I was sinning after I came out as gay. It felt like I was banned from praying.”

There’s something so thrilling every time Valentino says he’s gay. I feel like the room should’ve lit up in rainbows so I could’ve seen the word fly out of his heart-shaped lips. But honestly, the darkness makes sense, like there’s a storm still following Valentino wherever he goes because he has parents who aren’t giving him the love he deserves. I wouldn’t win the fight, but I’d still want to swing at someone in his defense.

“You know that’s all bullshit, right?”

“Mostly.”

“Look, I don’t fuck with religion, but anyone hating on gay people because of shit the Bible apparently doesn’t even say can go fuck off.”

“I like how you can swear so freely and not come off furious.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Thanks for your not-quite-impassioned take. It’s been really hard to have leaned on my faith for so many years and to have literally prayed to God that my parents would love me anyway and to have been wrong.” He rests his hands on his chest and takes a deep breath. “Getting away from them was one of the main reasons I left. It’s part of my job to feel comfortable in my skin. To own my bones. How could I do that if I can’t be myself at home?”