Alano
9:16 p.m.
Past alarming thoughts are getting stronger and stronger, like a Death-Cast alert ringing through my head. I’m the only one
who knows my full story no matter what my father believes.
I consider keeping my family’s personal business within the family, but seeing how my father has treated Paz’s family, I can’t
help myself. “It’s impossible for you to know everything about me when you can’t even remember everything because of your
blackouts.”
My father’s smugness vanishes in an instant. “What of my past blackouts?”
The alcohol on his breath. The slurring of his speech. The rudeness. It’s all a bad look for my father, but no one knows how
bad this can get when he’s deep into a bottle or two. I’ve unfortunately witnessed his dark transformation.
“You promised you were done drinking,” I say.
“It has been a calamitous week,” my father says.
“You broke your promise.”
“You have not been a model of honor either, mi hijo.”
“I’m nineteen. I’m not supposed to be the role model. You are.”
“I am your father when you mean to shame me but not when I aim to protect you?”
He can’t even remember that he’s not always protected me.
My mother knows nothing about my father’s forgotten episode either. Only that this argument is uncomfortable and she moves
for the door, asking us to take it outside and apologizing to Paz’s family.
“This concerns Paz too,” my father says, staying put.
“Leave him out of this,” I say as Paz squeezes my hand like it’s a stress ball.
My father ignores me, like usual. “The rumor spreading around the world is that Rosa and Paz Dario are joined by a common
cause to destroy Death-Cast,” he says, studying us as if there’s any truth to this rumor. “It is in both of your best interests
to put an end to these claims about you being secret Death Guarders.”
It’s absurd how the media is pushing the narrative that living pro-naturally means I hate Death-Cast so much that I would
serve the Death Guard in their mission to upend the company. As for Paz, I might know the truth of who he is, but I understand
how even well-meaning people can write him off as an enemy of Death-Cast based on the public’s perception.
“How would you want us to put an end to these claims?” I ask my father.
“I’ve had our team prepare a press release that you can issue, but a statement is far more powerful. You can use your voice so no one can mistake either of you as the bad guys in this political war,” my father says, glancing at Paz, as if he hadn’t villainized him minutes ago. “You have the power to repair Death-Cast’s reputation too.”
I scoff. “Is this why you came here? To save your company?”
“To protect your inheritance, mi hijo. Death-Cast will be all yours one day.”
I’m not sure that’s the right decision. “Maybe the Death Guard is right. Maybe Death-Cast should die.”
My father’s silence is chilling.
“You don’t mean that, ,” my mother softly says.
I don’t believe in the Death Guard’s radicalism, but I might be seeing reason in their core belief that the good Death-Cast
has been presenting is no longer outweighing the bad.
“I’m not sure a Decker’s right to closure on their End Day is a good enough reason to keep Death-Cast alive if it means war breaking out,” I say, trying to be realistic. “Our heralds are traumatized. Our power has been abused by serial killers. Our very existence is creating violent division around the world.” I flash my bandaged arm. “The Death Guard targeted me, the heir, to kill Death-Cast’s future. Think about how many lives we can save by shutting down Death-Cast now. Mine included. I don’t want to spend my life hiding from the next assassination attempt just like you don’t want my ghost for company,” I tell my father, knowing that he fears my ghost haunting him more than any other soul. “Death-Cast created countless miracles, but it has destroyed lives too.” I watch tears obscure Paz’s beautiful light brown eyes. “Maybe instead of serving Deckers, we make the ultimate sacrifice to protect the survivors whose lives we left in ruin.”
I am among those survivors.
My father slowly shakes his head. “You would watch the whole world fall back into an age of mystery over a fraction of lives
being disturbed by my creation?” he asks disapprovingly.
“It may be a fraction of the millions you’ve served, but it was whole lives for individuals.”
That’s when Paz rises. “I’m not getting my life back, and it’s all your fault.”