The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(59)

“That was definitely disappointing.”

“And completely fucking infuriating.”

There’s an empty bus stop bench a few feet away, but Orion slides down the wall and sits in a crouch. I join him even though my legs are sore from yesterday morning’s run and workout and my two fun trips up my six flights of steps. I don’t say anything as he catches his breath and fights his inner storm.

I want to thank him for trying to stand up for me at the agency when his phone rings in my pocket. The Death-Cast trauma has burrowed deep instantly, but this is an ordinary ringtone, so I’m able to calm down before my heart reacts as badly as Orion’s.

“It’s Scarlett,” I say. I answer her FaceTime immediately, and she’s sobbing hard. I start tearing up instantly. I can see that she’s in the airport. “Did you land already?”

Scarlett can’t get her words out. Her cries start breaking up as a series of text notifications begin buzzing, all from her. I keep swiping them away so I can talk to her.

“Scar? What’s going on?”

“I’m still in Arizona,” she says.

Orion’s eyes open at this.

“What do you mean you’re still in Arizona?”

“The pilot got his End Day call before we could take off.”

As she’s telling me everything about how the passengers were going crazy on the plane and how police are investigating the issue, I’m shivering thinking about what could have happened if the pilot had begun the journey and damned everyone else to an early death. I can’t know if that’s what would have happened, but I’m sure Orion has wondered this countless times too as he reimagined 9/11 in a Death-Cast world.

“Death-Cast didn’t call you, did they?” I ask.

Scarlett shakes her head. “No, but my service sucked on the plane, and I couldn’t call you sooner and I was so scared you would be . . .”

“I’m not. What’s the plan now? Are you going to find another flight?”

“As soon as they determine the passengers weren’t a threat to the pilot, yeah. I’ll ditch my luggage, I don’t care.”

“Have you told them it’s my End Day?”

“They don’t give a shit. It’s all about that pilot.”

This has got to become a big change in airlines moving forward. No flights can take off unless they’re positive the pilots aren’t Deckers. The passengers too. That’ll resolve any plane crashes, right? Assuming people register for the program in the first place.

“I’m so sorry,” Scarlett says. “I’m going to keep trying.”

If she could grow wings and flap her way across the country, she would do it one trip. But even in this real world where death can now be predicted, people still can’t fly, so she’s grounded in that airport until then. I think about other impossibilities like Scarlett driving from Arizona to New York even though that trip is more than thirty-five hours and she’s on no sleep. Just because Death-Cast didn’t call doesn’t mean she can’t get into another accident by trying her best to drive here. Another plane is her only option.

I just want something impossible to become possible on my last day alive.

Is that too much to ask?

Apparently so.

“How are you?” Scarlett asks. “Why are you outside?”

I tell her about the bombed photo shoot in as few words as possible.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Go home, I guess. I’ll wait for you.”

“No!” Scarlett shouts. She turns apologetically to a woman I glimpse next to her. “You didn’t move to New York to hang around waiting for me. Go safely explore. I’ll be there soon.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

We both know this can’t be promised as we hang up, but it’s something to hold on to. Scarlett will do everything in her power to reach me. She could bribe someone off the next flight out so we can have more time together, or sneak into the cargo bin and get battered by suitcases for five hours. I don’t know, but I do know she will figure it out.

As sure as I am that I’ll see my reflection when I look in the mirror, I’m certain that I will see my sister before I die.

That’s the most important dream that needs to come true.





Orion


8:12 a.m.

Today is the first time I’m positive I will live no matter what, and I never thought it would feel so fucking shitty.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still not trying to die, but watching Valentino live through his End Day has been rough. It’s hard not to feel like the author of his story is some cruel bastard who won’t give him any wins. There’s so many ways he could’ve died by now—gunshot or beat down with a bat or smashing his head on the curb or that fall back at the apartment or run over in the middle of the street—and he’s surviving for what? To get rejected by his agent, and find out his sister is still stuck back home? I can’t celebrate my life knowing his final hours are not working out for him.

“This End Day can’t get worse, can it?” Valentino asks, staring off into space and fighting back tears. “That’s a stupid question. Of course it can, and of course it will. Death-Cast had no idea what they were talking about when they called Deckers the captains of our own ships. Everything about today shows that I’m not steering my way through this End Day. It’s like my wheel is spinning out of control and I’m about to crash into an iceberg and drown.” Valentino cracks, crying so damn hard. “I should drop dead now.”