The First to Die at the End (Death-Cast #0)(75)

“Trust me,” Orion says.

“I do.”

“We’re about to enter a train station, but the sign spoils everything.”

“Hence the blindfold.”

“We have to be really careful going down the stairs. We’ll take our time, okay?”

“Okay.”

At the top of the staircase, Orion places one of my hands on the railing and keeps holding the other. He guides me, step by step, though the first few are the most nerve-racking. My calves are tingling, and it takes a bit before my feet find the rhythm, like we’re dancing. The overall experience feels like a roller coaster where you begin with regret and doubt and then you release all that and enjoy yourself. I let out a deep sigh when we reach the landing, but it turns out that’s not the only set of stairs. Orion doesn’t let my hand go as he reaches into my pocket for my MetroCard and swipes me in, then doing the same with his own.

“Can I take off the hoodie now?”

“Nope. There’s still signage everywhere.”

He leads me down the next set of stairs, and I grip his hand, increasingly nervous that this is all going too well and my desire to be surprised is going to get him hurt and me killed.

“Almost there?” I ask.

“Almost there,” Orion says.

An overhead announcement begins, and Orion leans into my ear and mumbles nonsense to drown out the message. Feeling his breath on my face gives me goose bumps.

“Sorry about that. We haven’t come this far for Train Operator Number One to spoil the ending.”

“I appreciate your dedication.”

“Do you have an iPod on you? Or I can use the songs downloaded on my phone. Maybe more annoying noises?”

“Can you talk to me instead?”

“And say what?”

“Tell me a secret.”

Orion is quiet, but this time I can’t read his face. I only know that he hasn’t walked away because he’s still holding my hand, even though we’re not moving.

“What kind of secret?” he asks.

“Something personal. Something you wouldn’t even admit out loud.”

“Unfortunately, you’re the perfect person to tell a secret to.”

Any secret dies with me. “Exactly.”

“Okay, but you got to wait until we’re on the train.”

It’s like my whole body is vibrating. Is this because of the incoming train roaring through the subway? Am I secretly on the tracks? Or is it pure anticipation on what Orion will share with me, hoping it’s what I would say if he asked me?

The train doors open, and I manage to hear “last stop” before Orion hums loudly into my ear and guides me inside, straight into a seat. I no longer even care about where we’re going. I want to know what he’s going to reveal about himself. He stops humming to tell me to keep my head down, and I fold into my lap, dizzy in the darkness. I would fall forward if it weren’t for Orion holding his arm across my chest. Then right as the conductor begins announcing what the next stop will be, Orion’s lips graze my ear.

“I’m scared I’m going to die and never have been in love.”

It’s so silent that I hear the doors close.

The train leaves the station.

Orion unwraps the hoodie, and the light bothers my eyes, but not as much as his confession that he can’t possibly believe is true.

“I can tell you want to say something, but we don’t have a lot of time.”

“A lot of time for what?”

Orion gestures at the rest of the train car. There’s no one sitting in the blue and orange seats or holding on to the railings while playing on their phones. It’s empty except for us.

“Is this rare in New York?”

“Not at all, but we’re going somewhere that we’re not supposed to . . .”

Childhood memories of the thought of going to hell resurface. It doesn’t help that I’m alone with another gay boy. “Should I be nervous?”

“You should be careful, and not let go of me.” Orion ties the hoodie around his waist, and he pushes open those folding doors that connect from one car to the next. “We’re about to pass by a secret train station.” He steps out onto this metallic bridge and holds on to a black rubber strap with one hand. He extends the other to me.

There’s a sign that reads Riding or moving between cars is prohibited with a black silhouette between two train cars being shamed for doing so within a red stop symbol. But the bottom reads unless there is an emergency, or as directed by police or train crew and I’m going to declare my End Day an emergency.

I take Orion’s hand, half stepping onto the bridge and holding on to the rubber strap with the tightest grip. The wheels screeching are ten times louder out here, and the winds are blowing back my hair like we’re on the top of a building. It’s exhilarating without being as dangerous as skydiving. This is a first, but neither of us are stupid enough to try to document this with a picture. The fact that we’re doing this at all is already plenty stupid. But I’m not going to die here like some self-fulfilling prophecy from when I was panicking earlier about all the different ways I can die.

The train slows down slightly as it turns, breaking out of the dark tunnel. The secret station is illuminated by the sun casting through the skylight. I’m blown away by how different this station is from the one I was in this morning. This feels more like Grand Central, which I’ve only experienced through movies where characters arrive in New York for the first time and do that classic spin that screams, “I’ve made it!” If I weren’t so scared of falling onto the tracks, I’d probably spin right now too. It’s magical experiencing this hidden corner of New York and I’m shocked more people aren’t risking their lives and breaking the law to stand out on this crossway to see this for themselves. The sign on the bricked wall reads CITY HALL, and there are green and white tiles running along the vaulted ceiling. The most surprising piece would have to be the literal chandeliers that are switched off or don’t work, but to think they once lit up a train station like it was a ballroom? Showstopping.