They Both Die at the End (Death-Cast #1)(72)

I need to close my eyes for a bit. Not a long time because I don’t have that. But in case I don’t wake up because of some complication, I shoot them one last text: Whatever happens to me, scatter me at Althea. Orbit each other so damn hard. I love you.


10:02 p.m.

I snap awake from the nightmare. Nightmare-Mateo was completely ablaze, blaming me for his death, telling me he would’ve never died if he hadn’t met me. It sears into my mind, but I shake it off as nothing but a nightmare because Mateo would never blame anyone for anything.

Mateo is dead.

That was no way for him to go out. Mateo should’ve gone out saving someone, because he was such a selfless person. No, even if he didn’t die a hero’s death, he died a hero.

Mateo Torrez definitely saved me.





LIDIA VARGAS


10:10 p.m.

Lidia is home on her couch, eating comfort candy, letting Penny stay awake. Lidia’s grandmother has gone to bed, exhausted from watching Penny, and Penny herself is winding down. She isn’t cranky or whining, almost as if she knows to give her mother a break.

Lidia’s phone rings. It’s the same number Mateo called her from before, Rufus’s. She answers: “Mateo!”

Penny looks at the door, but doesn’t find Mateo.

Lidia waits for his voice, but he doesn’t say anything.

“. . . Rufus?” Lidia’s heart races and she closes her eyes.

“Yeah.”

It’s happened.

Lidia drops the phone on the couch, punching the cushions, scaring Penny. Lidia doesn’t want to know how it happened, not tonight. Her heart’s already broken, she doesn’t need every last piece shattered to bits. Tiny hands pull Lidia’s hands away from her face, and, like earlier, Penny is tearing up because her mother is crying.

“Mommy,” Penny says. This one word says everything to Lidia—fall apart, but piece herself back together. If not for herself, for her daughter.

Lidia kisses Penny’s forehead and picks up the phone. “You there, Rufus?”

“Yeah,” he says again. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I’m sorry for your loss too,” Lidia says. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the same hospital as his dad,” Rufus says.

Lidia wants to ask him if he’s okay, but she knows he won’t be soon enough.

“I’m gonna visit him,” Rufus says. “Mateo wanted to come out to him, but . . . we didn’t make it. Should I tell his dad? Is it weird that it’s me? You know him best.”

“You know him really well too,” Lidia says. “If you can’t, I can.”

“I know he can’t hear, but I wanna tell him how brave his son was,” Rufus says.

Was. Mateo is now a was.

“I can hear you,” Lidia says. “Please tell me first.”

Lidia holds Penny in her lap while Rufus tells her everything Mateo didn’t get a chance to tell her himself tonight. Tomorrow she’ll build the bookcase Mateo bought for Penny and put his pictures all around her room.

Lidia will keep Mateo alive the only way she can.





DELILAH GREY


10:12 p.m.

Delilah is writing the obituary based on the interview her boss didn’t fire her over. Howie Maldonado may have wanted a different life, but the legacy Delilah has learned from him is an important one—life is about balances. A pie chart with equal slices in all areas of life for maximum happiness.

Delilah was positive she wouldn’t be meeting Death today. But maybe Death simply has other plans for her. There’s still a little under two hours left until midnight. In this time, she’ll be able to see if it’s been coincidence or a doomed fate pushing her back and forth all day, like wave after wave.

Delilah is at Althea, a diner named for the park across the street, where she first met Victor, and she’s nearly done writing the obituary for the man she’s mostly only ever known from afar, instead of confronting the man she loves in what could possibly be her final hours.

She pushes aside her notebook to make room so she can spin the engagement ring Victor refused to take back last night. Delilah decides on a game. If the emerald is facing her, she’ll give in and call him. If the band is facing her, she’ll simply finish the obituary, go home, get a good night’s rest, and figure out next steps tomorrow.

Delilah spins the ring and the emerald points directly at her; not even the slightest bit favoring her shoulder or other patrons.

Delilah whips out her phone and calls Victor, desperately hoping he’s screwing with her. Maybe one of the many secrets regarding Death-Cast is they decide who dies, like some lottery no one wants to win. Maybe Victor went in to work, slid her name across Mr. Executive Executor’s table, and said, “Take her.”

Maybe heartbreak kills.





VICTOR GALLAHER


10:13 p.m.

Death-Cast did not call Victor Gallaher last night because he isn’t dying today. Protocol for telling an employee about their End Day involves an administrator calling the Decker into their office “for a meeting.” It’s never obvious to the outside employees whether the person is dying or being terminated—they simply never return to their desk. But this is of little concern for Victor since he’s not dying today.