The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(67)

There’s no doubt in my mind that Orion means every word.

I bumped into the perfect stranger in Times Square.

“It’s almost like when I die and you have my heart, I’ll live on through you,” I say. “A new, beautiful life.”

My chest feels tight as Orion and I stare into each other’s eyes.

“Totally,” he says, breaking contact, and I look away too. “I’ll become a walking park.”

“What you lack in history, Orion, you make up for in metaphors.”

“I’m a writer. I better get that shit right.”

We stop and rest our arms on the railing. We have a calming view of the river. I’m guessing it’s the Hudson River, but even though I’m a newly christened New Yorker I didn’t suddenly download all the knowledge of one. I just watch the water and the boat slowly creeping along its surface.

“I’ve never been on a boat,” I say.

“It sucks, but please don’t fight to make that one of your firsts.”

“You going to ride up on a horse and stop me like one of those cowboys you made up?”

“Yeehaw,” Orion dryly says. “But for real, it’s your life. I selfishly don’t want to risk watching you drown. I don’t give a shit about what Death-Cast thinks, there’s no way I’d survive that.”

In the same way I’d like to take a trip in a spaceship, it’d be nice to get on a boat and sail across the river and experience something I haven’t before. But Orion is right. Drowning sounds like a horrible way to die, and I don’t want to test that theory. I wouldn’t want anyone witnessing that either. That would be too haunting.

It’s hard to live when it feels like death is lurking around every corner.

“I’m going to spend my remaining hours living life from a distance, aren’t I?”

“Nope. You’re going to live it up close,” Orion says.

“How?”

“By making the most of what we can do. If you don’t die happily, then I failed you.”

“Tough task.”

“Game on.”

I half expect us to shake on it. Instead, we watch that boat until it slips behind a building; I hope it has a safe journey. Orion steps away to aim the camera at me.

“You should also be in the picture,” I say. “This is a first for you too.”

“Nope, your End Day is about you. I’ve made it enough about me already with the whole heart attack and donor situation.”

“This End Day would’ve long been over without you. You’re part of my journey.”

Orion sighs, defeated. He comes under my open arm and we squeeze together, our heads leaning against each other. Figuring out the right angle is tricky without a phone’s mirror.

“How the hell did people take selfies before phones?” Orion asks.

“Luck. I also hate the word ‘selfie’ so much. Do you think that’ll die out soon?”

“I hope so. That word outliving you is upsetting as fuck.”

“Agreed.”

The longer we take to figure out how to take a selfie on the camera, the longer we’re pressed together. I’m not upset at this by any means.

“I’m going to go for it,” Orion says. “If I fuck it up, I fuck it up.”

He counts us down from three and instead of looking up at the camera, I’m smiling at Orion and thinking about the quality moments we can be sharing from the warmth of my studio. But when anyone looks through this album of pictures, all they’re going to be able to see is a Decker whose End Day would’ve been worse without this new friend who forced him to take his life into his own hands.





Captain Harry E. Pearson


8:05 a.m. (Mountain Standard Time) There’s something very wrong.

Captain Pearson’s plane has been emptied of all the passengers, so why does he still feel threatened? There’s this knot in his chest that’s been squeezing tighter and tighter ever since Death-Cast called. Is this a major case of anxiety? He’s been sweating profusely, but who wouldn’t? It’s stressful knowing that there were almost three hundred people on board who could’ve been plotting to hijack his plane. Maybe he’ll feel better after some fresh air.

But when he unlocks the cockpit door and steps into the main cabin, where police officers are waiting to safely escort him to a private room in the airport, Captain Pearson collapses to the floor.

This is his first heart attack.

And last.





Orion


11:06 a.m.

This End Day isn’t about me, but I feel lucky to be along for the journey.

When I first met Valentino, I knew I wanted to be part of his life. Yeah, my dick was doing some of the talking because he’s gorgeous, but it was more than that, it was always more than that. He had stars in his eyes and wanted to grow up in this city. He’ll never be able to do it all, but I’m happy he’s hitting a lot of firsts.

Our next first: riding the bus, since a boat is too dangerous. Or at least it will be our next first if it ever arrives. I check the time on my phone to see how long we’ve been waiting when I realize something historic in the world of me and Valentino.

“Yo, it’s been twelve-ish hours since we met,” I say.