Another shattered window, another alarm, another laugh echoing down the street.

The men in the skull masks are getting closer.

What’s their deal? I’m guessing they must be among those people who have no concerns about committing crimes because they believe Death-Cast is the beginning of the world ending. If the cops could arrive and arrest them before they beat us with that bat, that would be wonderful.

Another window, another alarm, another laugh.

They’re so close. One car away.

Orion looks really scared for someone whose head isn’t on the chopping block, according to Death-Cast. A whimper escapes his lips, and I press my palm to his mouth to silence him. I don’t think either of the men heard Orion, but I’m still terrified. Orion’s hazel eyes are so apologetic. Then the Jeep’s window is smashed in, glass raining down on the other side of the car. Orion’s nails are digging into my arm, and I keep my breath sucked in as if it could be heard above this chorus of alarms.

As the next car is attacked, I lead Orion to the front of the Jeep, where we can’t be seen.

I finally breathe as police sirens can be heard in the distance, approaching us.

“We got to go,” Orion whispers.

I shake my head.

“Yes. What if they think we did it?”

He’s right. Best-case scenario, we’re taken into custody and I lose valuable hours of my End Day. Worst case . . .

I peek around the Jeep to find the attackers fleeing down the street, back toward the hospital. “Let’s go.”

Orion and I get up and run, and all I can think about is how my heart is racing hard like one of my more intense workouts and wondering how Orion’s is holding up. We turn the corner and my boot slams right into the curb and I’m falling forward and Orion sees me and there’s nothing either of us can do to stop gravity.

Right before my head slams down on the sidewalk, I know this is how I’m going to die.

Orion

3:10 a.m.

This can’t be it; this can’t be how this goes down.

I really want to believe this is a prank, but I know it’s not, I saw that fear in his eyes as he was falling. I rush to his side, tripping over myself for a sec, and I flip Valentino over to find a big cut above his eyebrow. His blood stains the ground, looking like a Rorschach test that I don’t give a shit about scoring well on because I only need to know if he’s alive or not.

“Valentino, dude.”