The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(61)

I want to live, but I can’t risk that, can I?

It’s unfortunate that my End Day is Death-Cast’s first day. If I had more information on their accuracy record I could know if my call was an error after all. But I don’t, and I won’t get it. It’s just yet another reason why I’m dying with bad timing.





Naya Rosa


8:40 a.m.

There have now been eleven reports of Deckers dying without Death-Cast calling.

Naya is back in the company suite, resting on the couch while Alano uses her lap as a pillow and Bucky is asleep at her feet. She can’t move without waking them, and she doesn’t know where she would go if she could. The company’s future is on fire, but she can’t be the one to put it out. She’s sitting there in fear, feeling much like her grandfather who told many stories of what it was like waiting for Naya’s grandmother to return home from the war. She wants the door to be flung open with Joaquin emerging, even if he couldn’t solve the problem, couldn’t win the war. She simply wants her husband to be a survivor.

But what if Joaquin is among the Deckers who died without warning?





Valentino


8:51 a.m.

The pawnshop’s awning has ITCHY PALM GEMS spelled out in colorful light bulbs.

It looks more like one of those Broadway gift stores that sell magnets with your name on it instead of a place where I can find a camera. But considering it’s tucked between a CVS and a Domino’s, the pawnshop is doing a great job at standing out; it’s like a brooch pinned to an otherwise plain outfit. Though unlike its neighbors, it also stands out because Itchy Palm Gems has shards of glass piled where their front door once stood.

“They’re definitely open,” I say.

“Whether they like it or not,” Orion adds. “Fucking looters.”

I glimpse a man inside, sweeping. This must be where he works because I can’t imagine someone cleaning up after themselves after breaking in.

Orion starts trying to push me back, but I stand strong. “You should get away. Just in case.”

“Just in case of what?”

“Who knows, but you shouldn’t be the first to find out.”

“Then let’s just go. The camera isn’t worth it.”

“Yeah, it is,” Orion says, staring into my eyes. I know he means it and that he cares. “Look, we know it’s not my End Day, so I should wield that like a superpower.”

“Except you’re not invincible.”

“Nope, but I’m stronger today. Just hang back at the corner for a sec.”

I accept defeat, though I draw the line at hiding around the corner. I wait right here.

Glass crunches under Orion’s boot as he knocks on the doorframe. “Hey, good morning.”

The man stops sweeping and comes to the doorway. “We’re closed today.”

“Everything okay?” I ask from the sidewalk.

He stares like it should be obvious that everything isn’t okay. I struggle with maintaining eye contact because he’s really handsome for an older guy. Salt-and-pepper beard on his diamond-cut jaw. Black hair in a quiff style with streaks of silver on the side. Strong and defined arms with the veins showing under his brown skin, which gets celebrated in the gym as if that’s the only mark of someone putting in the real work. His pecs are popping through his black T-shirt with the cuffed sleeves, sweat staining his pits. And as someone who can’t get a tattoo without scaring off agencies, I’m a huge fan of the white moons tattooed down his bicep, completing the package of this man who belongs on magazine covers.

“Shop got broken into early this morning,” the man says. “People wanted to steal other people’s shit instead of pizza dough apparently.”

I feel safe enough to approach, not expecting this pawnbroker to beat me to death with his broom. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Unless you were the looters.”

“No, but fuck whoever it was,” Orion says.

“I like that fire,” he says, giving Orion a fist-bump.

Orion grins. “Is it cool if we pop in real fast? We’re looking for a camera.”

The man sighs. “A lot was stolen last night. I don’t even know what inventory I have at the moment. Feel free to swing by tomorrow when we’ve reopened. I’ll hold any cameras I find on the side for you.” He begins turning away.

“Hold up.” Orion looks at me.

He always respects my business, even with strangers I’ll never see again. I’ll have to let him know I’m fine with him supporting me.

“I won’t be around tomorrow,” I say.

“Out-of-towner?” the man asks.

“Decker,” I say.

Then the moment of truth: Will he challenge the reality of Death-Cast, or trust that I’m dying?

The man shakes his head. “That’s tragic. I’m sorry to hear that. You’re so young. . . .”

I’m relieved that he cares, but of course my truth stings anyway.

“Come on in. You can have a look around,” the man says. He shakes our hands. “I’m Férnan.”

“Valentino. This is Orion.”

“Nice to meet you both. Orion, mind the swearing if my son comes out from the back. He’s ten and already cursing like me whenever the Mets are losing.”