They Both Die at the End (Death-Cast #1)(22)

I take photos of the energy in the car: the guy who’s managed to get the attention of the beautiful girl. Twins dancing together. The crushed beer cans and water bottles. And the freaking life of it all. I put my phone in my pocket, grab my bike, and wheel it through the doors between the cars—the ones the overhead announcements are constantly reminding us are for emergencies only. End Day or not, that announcement can suck it. The tunnel’s air is chill, and the train’s wheels screeching and screaming on the rails is a sound I won’t miss. I enter the next car, but Mateo keeps staring at the floor.

I sit beside him and am about to go off on him, to tell him how I didn’t take some older girl’s invite to have sex on my last day to live ever because I’m a good Last Friend, but it’s pretty damn obvious he doesn’t need that guilt trip. “Yo, tell me more about these robots. The ones who are gonna take everyone’s jobs.”

Mateo stops looking at the floor for a sec, turning to see if I’m toying with him, and I’m clearly not, I’m mad chill on all this. He grins and rambles so hard: “It’s going to take a while because evolution is never fast, but the robots are already here. You know that, right? There are robots that can cook dinner for you and unload the dishwasher. You can teach them secret handshakes, which is pretty mind-blowing, and they can solve a Rubik’s Cube. I even saw a clip of a break-dancing robot a couple months ago. But don’t you think these robots are one giant distraction while other robots receive job training at some underground robot headquarters? I mean, why pay someone twenty dollars an hour to give directions when our phones already do that, or even better, when a robot can do it for you? We’re screwed.” Mateo shuts up and is no longer grinning.

“Buzzkill, right?”

“Yeah,” Mateo says.

“At least you won’t have to ever worry about your boss firing you for a robot,” I say.

“That’s a pretty dark bright side,” Mateo says.

“Dude, today is one huge dark bright side. Why’d you bail on the party car?”

“We have no business on that car,” Mateo says. “What are we celebrating, dying? I’m not trying to dance with strangers while on my way to say goodbye to my dad and best friend, knowing damn well there’s a chance I may not even reach them. That’s just not my scene, and those aren’t my people.”

“It’s just a party.” The train stops. He doesn’t respond. It’s possible Mateo not being a daredevil will keep us alive longer, but I’m not banking on it being a memorable End Day.





AIMEE DUBOIS


4:17 a.m.

Death-Cast did not call Aimee DuBois because she isn’t dying today. But she’s losing Rufus—lost him already because of her boyfriend.

Aimee is speed-walking home, followed by Peck. “You’re a monster. What kind of person tries to get someone arrested at their own funeral?”

“I got jumped by three guys!”

“Malcolm and Tagoe didn’t touch you! And now they’re going to jail.”

Peck spits. “They ran their mouths, that’s not on me.”

“You have to leave me alone. I know you never liked Rufus, and he didn’t give you any reason to, but he’s still really important to me. I always wanted him in the picture and now he won’t be. I had even less time with him because of you. If I can’t see him, I don’t want to see you either.”

“You ending it with me?”

Aimee stops. She doesn’t want to turn Peck’s way because she hasn’t considered this question yet. People make mistakes. Rufus made a mistake attacking Peck. Peck shouldn’t have had his friends send the police after Rufus, but he wasn’t wrong to have done so. Well, legally, no. Morally, hell yes.

“You keep putting him before me,” Peck says. “I’m the one you’ve been coming to for all your problems. Not the guy who almost killed me. I’ll let you think on that.”

Aimee stares at Peck. He’s a white teen with low-hanging jeans, baggy sweater, Caesar cut, and dried blood on his face because he’s dating her.

Peck walks away and Aimee lets him.

She doesn’t know where she stands with Peck in this world of gray.

She’s not quite sure where she stands with herself either.





MATEO


4:26 a.m.

I’m failing to break out.

I couldn’t surround myself with more strangers. They were harmless for the most part, the only red flag being how I don’t want to be around people who get so drunk they pass out and eventually black out the nights they’re lucky to be living. But I wasn’t honest with Rufus, because, on a deep level, I do believe partying on the train is my kind of scene. It’s just that the fear of disappointing others or making a fool of myself always wins.

I’m actually surprised Rufus is chaining his bike to a gate and following me into the hospital. We walk up to the front desk, and a red-eyed clerk smiles at me but doesn’t actually ask how he can help me.

“Hi. I’d like to see my father. Mateo Torrez in Intensive Care.” I pull out my ID and slide it across the glass counter to Jared, as the name tag pinned to his sky-blue scrubs reads.

“Visiting hours ended at nine, I’m afraid.”