The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(64)

This is a sign to rebuild his business and his relationships.

Férnan closes the cash register and takes the bike off the wall.

Family first.





Orion


9:39 a.m.

Capturing Valentino’s firsts on camera is hella fun: First time visiting a bodega to get a hot black tea to stay awake and fill his stomach. He even played with the cat after I made sure he wasn’t allergic and about to drop dead next to kitty litter.

First time seeing a pay phone, which he said is different from the ones back in Arizona. He posed as if he was on a call, head tilted down but blue eyes up at me. That look did something to my heart and dick, that’s all I got to say.

First time buying a bacon, egg, and cheese roll off some dude on the streets. He’s still refusing to eat because of the possible operation, which bothers me, especially as he breathes it in. I can tell he wants to rip apart that aluminum foil and devour that sandwich in one bite, even if the hotness sets his insides on fire. But instead he gives it to some woman who’s asking for money to eat; we don’t document that, obviously.

First time passing the legendary Strand Bookstore, and Valentino wishes he could tuck himself into a corner and read one last book.

And now his first time buying a copy of the New York Times from a newsstand. His expression is moody, and I wonder if he’s going for some intense, scholary vibe. Then I see the newspaper’s headline: THE END DAYS ARE HERE. The photograph on the cover is of Joaquin Rosa in the Death-Cast call center as he’s on the phone.

I almost drop the camera when I realize what this means.

“This is when he told me that my life is over,” Valentino says.

It’s hard to process something so wild like this.

“You okay?”

“It’s strange seeing the other side of this call in print.”

“It’s history, I guess.”

Valentino trashes the newspaper. “I’m not history, Orion. I’m here.”

Then he’s not here because he’s walking away from me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just—I kind of went through something similar with my parents the day they died. The morning newspaper was already out, but they had released another at some point. I’ll never forget, the New York Times had some headline about the United States being attacked and how hijacked jets destroyed the Twin Towers. Right there on the cover were the burning towers. The fire and the smoke . . . I remember squinting hard, like mad hard, thinking I might’ve been able to find my parents in a window.”

Valentino stops and stares at me.

“I was nine and stupid, sue me.”

“No, I’m not judging you. It’s really sad.”

“Yeah, well. Same deal with you and that Joaquin photo. Everyone thinks that moment is only Death-Cast history when it’s your history too.”

“And 9/11 history is also your history.”

“Proof of our lives changing, all on page one.”

“You won’t find our faces, though.”

“I’m not mad at that. I looked like shit that day. You’re fucking glowing, though.”

Valentino is either blushing or the sun is cooking his face. “Even with my scar?”

“You’re going to keep that shit trending, trust me.”

“Thanks, Orion.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and our bodies pushed together is seriously where it’s at. “What’s next?”

“That’s your call.”

“I’m calling on you to pick a place for me. A lesser-known gem.”

It takes a sec because I’m still caught up on Valentino’s arm around me and how freeing it feels to explore a space like this here in lower Manhattan than I would back up in the South Bronx. But then I remember a spot I haven’t even hit yet, one we can discover together.

A first for the both of us.





Rolando Rubio


9:47 a.m.

Rolando is in a café, hoping to meet his first Decker.

This wasn’t planned. In fact, it’s in the guidelines that Death-Cast heralds aren’t to arrange meetings with the Deckers. The company set this boundary between heralds and Deckers as if they’re therapists and clients who shouldn’t be friends, but Rolando doesn’t buy that this is simply because of professionalism. He suspects that Joaquin doesn’t want any of his operators held hostage by any Deckers or grief-stricken loved ones with nothing to lose and something to gain by getting Death-Cast’s secret. As if Rolando knows how the Deckers are identified, but Death-Cast not trading the secret to save an employee’s life would certainly be bad publicity.

Fortunately for Death-Cast, Rolando is no longer employed by them.

It’s also fortunate for Rolando, who no longer has to live by Death-Cast’s rules. Especially when it comes to the first Decker he called last night and spoke with at length—too long if you ask Joaquin or Naya or Andrea or anyone. Being a good human made him a bad employee. Thankfully, he learned a lot about Clint Suarez on that call. He loves dancing. He was an investor. He once won the lottery for eight hundred grand by playing the numbers of his mother’s birthday. And that he spends every Saturday morning, at ten on the dot, by coming to Carolina’s Café in Union Square, where he likes to sit by the window and enjoy a late breakfast while people-watching.