Death Stranding: The Official Novelization, Volume One

The director kept talking.

“So that’s why we ended up with people like MULEs.”

Sam took note of where the director was headed with his lecture and came to his conclusion for him. Die-Hardman cleared his throat and started again.

White noise interrupted the codec call. He had finally left the area covered by the Chiral Network. Now Sam would have to rely on normal radio communications. Unfortunately, the reception here wasn’t very stable either, thanks to the chiral clouds filled with timefall rain. The fluctuations in atmospheric chiral density made long-distance communications pretty much impossible. The state of radio communications had rolled back so far that they were as bad as they were a century ago.

What little landline infrastructure remained intact wasn’t reliable enough to connect the disparate facilities and cities. Constant exposure to the timefall degraded the lines, and they were vulnerable to disruptions caused by separatists and extremists.

The only exception was the old-generation network that ran from the East to the West Coast, and even across Lake Ground Zero. A patchwork of landline and wireless systems that Bridges I had managed to throw together as they headed west. No one knew how long it would last. Their advance westward was rejected by separatists, who called it a regressive westward expansion based on old, narrow-minded America-first ideology. To them it was an act of terrorism hidden behind a façade of benevolent reconstruction.

But none of their criticism ever amounted to much. At least, their disruptions had never managed to sever the link completely. It was like the separatists were just sitting around waiting for the end of the world.

Bridget and Die-Hardman had once strongly argued for the reconstruction of America on that very point. A younger Sam had agreed with them.

Once a transcendental system like the Chiral Network was completed, everything would be solved. Once connected, they could work together to find a logical explanation for the Beach and a realistic way of dealing with it.

Once we understand the Beach then we’ll be saved. That’s what Sam had once believed. That “we” was Amelie and Sam, who lived constantly with the shadow of the Beach looming over their heads.

Sam reached the bottom of the hill and continued to walk onward, watching out for the rapids on his left, and soon noticed trampled grass and muddy footprints. His intuition as a porter flared in warning. George Baton had told him at the waystation that MULEs were active around here. He was almost certainly looking at their tracks.

Sam had encountered them plenty of times before. They worried porters for different reasons than the BTs. MULEs had once been porters, but had become addicted to the high of delivering the goods that would rebuild society. They had become so dependent on that high that they resorted to stealing deliveries from other porters. It didn’t matter what the content or destination of the cargo was. They would just take it.

And once they had taken this cargo, it wasn’t as if they would do anything with it. They didn’t consume it. Nor did they try and trade it with other groups or use it for provisions. They just hoarded it away like squirrels. Just like the wealthy classes of the past, they simply aimed to amass as many resources as possible and keep them all for themselves.

This area was a delivery route between the waystation and the station that was Sam’s destination. The MULEs had probably been attracted to that.

Sam could see shadows on the opposite side of the river. Maybe a small group of two or three people. Luckily, they were separated not only by the rapids, but also by a fair distance. There was no need for Sam to panic, but he couldn’t be careless either. He was carrying a lot of cargo and there was nothing he could hide behind.

To avoid them he would have to climb back up the slope he had just come down, and then pass over the hills to the right. Sam sighed and pressed on.

The footing on the slope was even worse than Sam had expected, and every time he stumbled, several stones came loose and tumbled down the hillside.

It was taking an enormous amount of effort for Sam to keep his balance because of the weight on his back. He had to thrust his hands out onto the ground to stop himself from falling on more than one occasion.

After putting some distance between himself and the MULEs and climbing dozens of meters, Sam paused for a breather. They probably wouldn’t bother chasing him all the way up here. But when he looked back he saw that the small group of MULEs had already crossed over the river. All of them were clad in the exact same clothing from head to toe. They looked like little chrysalises that had sprouted arms and legs. Their direct and relentless running form and speed was uniform too. In fact, this uniformity was a trait of the MULEs. Their aims, means, and methods were also identical.

That’s why they were also named Homo gestalts. Their social structure was based on the division of duties and was much closer to that of ants and bees.

The MULE at the head of the pack was booting up some search equipment. It fired an ultra-high-frequency sensor that could immediately identify what Sam was carrying. Now he only had two options. He could either drop some of the cargo he was carrying and let them take it, or prepare for battle and try to make a getaway. Rationally, Sam knew that he should pick the first option. That’s what he had always done before.

But he couldn’t decide. He couldn’t stop thinking about George Baton’s tears. Why had he cried like that? What had made him so happy?

Sam’s cargo had been entrusted to him by Baton. He couldn’t just get rid of it. He would never be forgiven. Sam cursed Baton’s tears and put all of his strength into climbing farther up the slope.

As he struggled with the climb, he felt something graze his ear. He glanced to the side to see a spear jutting from the cliff face. One of the MULEs had thrown it. As Sam struggled to decide whether he should just cast off the rest of his baggage and face them, another spear came flying past.

Sam didn’t possess any projectiles. All he could do now was run.

Then he heard a grizzle from the pod.

The BB had its hands up against the window of the pod and was gazing up at Sam. BBs were transferred to their pods around seven months after conception, so its eyesight shouldn’t have been very developed. Despite this, Sam felt like the baby had made eye contact with him. He could sense how anxious it was.

The air current changed and brought a rust-like stench with it. When Sam looked up at the westward sky, he could see muddy-colored clouds loosely swirling into a vortex. It felt like he was witnessing the birth of some gigantic creature, something stupendous that would be depicted in legends. The clouds that brought the timefall didn’t blow in on the breeze. They formed and rumbled according to their own laws and dynamics.

There was a flash of light in the center of the vortex, followed by a clap of thunder as loud as a dragon’s roar. An upside-down rainbow spanned the sky. The BB trembled with fright and the Odradek on Sam’s shoulder sprang to life. There was no mistaking it. These were signs that BTs were coming. The MULEs who had almost caught up to him turned back in a panic. The BTs were a threat to them, too. A moment later, Sam felt cold raindrops against his cheeks, and the timefall began to pour down like a waterfall. The BB cried out and the Odradek spun around wildly.

Sam felt dazed, like he was intoxicated. The sound of the raindrops pattering against the hood covering his head grew intermittently louder then quieter. The world twisted itself into the perspective of an abstract painting. The worlds of the living and the dead were converging and Sam was stripped of his senses. He couldn’t tell where he ended and the world around him began.

He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath to try and regain some control. He tried listening for the beating of his heart over the sound of the thunder and the rain. He centered himself. Sam reopened his eyes. There was no more fluctuation in his consciousness or vision, and everything appeared back to normal.

Come on, BB. Sam stroked the pod as he muttered encouragement. The Odradek formed itself into a cross shape as it found something. Warning that a BT was creeping up on Sam from behind. He had to get out of here. Deciding on a course of action, he got down low and covered his mouth with his right hand. He held his breath. He could feel the back of his neck burning. It was urging his cowardly self to look back.

You’re afraid because you can’t see it. Turn around and see how far away the BT is! You connected to the BB so that you don’t have to fear the unknown. If you can see it, then you’ll be able to make a calm judgment. But he just couldn’t do it. If he moved so much as a muscle, the BT would sense him and attack.

The dead couldn’t see people either. They just blindly waved their invisible arms around, attempting to snatch up the living and fulfil their sole desire of returning to the world of the living.

That’s why the trick was to hold his breath as long as he could and get down low to hide his presence.

You can repatriate. You shouldn’t be scared of a voidout, should you? But then again, one mistake and you’ll end up drilling another crater into this country. Who knows how many would die? You’re so conceited. How could someone who can’t die possibly know the fear that BTs bring? That’s what was driven into Sam when he still worked for Bridges.

That instructor whose name and face Sam had long forgotten hadn’t died. But Sam had. As a repatriate, he had come to know the repulsiveness that drifted in the space between life and death. That was something that Sam couldn’t tell anyone. They would never understand.

Long ago, he had wanted to be understood, but now he accepted that he wouldn’t be.

From the corner of his eye, Sam saw the ground sink silently. Even that slight rotation of his eyeball was enough to attract one of the BTs. The outline of a large handprint appeared in his direction. The handprints moved closer, right hand over left as if probing for him. It took all of Sam’s willpower not to surrender as his lungs begged for air. The sweat on his brow and the tears from the antigen-antibody reaction ran together and merged with the droplets of timefall.

The handprints were almost at Sam’s kneecaps. It felt like time had stopped. He was in a stand-off with their invisible owner.

Sam continued to hold his breath, but he was already at his limit. His vision was tinged the color of blood and he felt like his head was about to burst. His body was crying out for air. Without thinking, he bit down harder on his lip. He tasted blood in his mouth. It began to drip down from his chin.

Sam sensed that the BT was confused and it began to back away. Moving in the opposite direction, the BT backed up farther and farther and left.

Sam was finally able to release his hand from his mouth and take a gasp of air. The oxygen coursed through his body and reawakened his brain. The timefall was letting up slightly and the faintest trace of light was now coming back to the sky.

The danger had passed for now.

The second breath that he breathed out was a sigh of relief. As he attempted to stand, he felt the full weight of the cargo on his back. At the same time, pain radiated throughout his body. It was proof that he was still alive and standing there.

As Sam got ready to depart, he got a feeling that something was off and stopped. Something was missing. It felt like a perfect cog had broken somewhere in the system. He found the answer to his confusion on his chest.

Sam called out to the BB and rapped his knuckles lightly on the pod.

But the pod window was dark and there was no response.

The BB was silent again. Come on, BB, you saved both our necks again. Answer me, BB. Come on.

The baby’s hands moved slightly. But it didn’t look like a planned movement, more like a spasm.

Igor entrusted you to me. I saved you at the incinerator. Deadman fine-tuned you so that we could set out across the continent together, and put off your decommission for me. One of the reasons I even agreed to go west in the first place was to keep you alive.

It was only the vibration of the cuff link that broke his train of thought.

The voice belonged to Deadman.

“I’m not sure. The BB isn’t moving anymore,” Sam answered, looking down at the pod to find the BB floating in the amniotic fluid looking dead.

Deadman’s voice sounded calm.

He spoke about BB as if it was some machine that had simply malfunctioned. He dealt with it like it was just some object. Sam couldn’t stand that kind of attitude, and cut off communication.

CAPITAL KNOT CITY // WEST // DISTRIBUTION CENTER

Sam could see the majesty of the distribution center on the opposite side of the river.

It had been three days since he had left the waystation and George Baton behind. He booted up the Odradek’s sensors and scanned the riverbed.

Sam found a relatively flat and shallow part of the river and crossed.

There was a well-worn path that seemed to follow the course of the river. It was a primitive trail worn into the greenery and it exposed rough patches of earth as it curved up steadily toward the entrance. Many people must have walked this path over the years, judging by how the earth was so compacted. If truth be told, Sam was more relieved to stumble upon this simple trail than when he saw the big, artificial buildings like the stations and centers erected in the midst of the wilderness.

Such signs of all the human life that had passed through here, and the layers of time they depicted, eased Sam’s feelings of solitude.

Sam wondered how someone like him, with his aphenphosmphobia—who couldn’t even join hands with those right in front of him—could still feel somehow connected to those who had come before him.

—Hey, Sam. Can you join hands with me?

Sam was scanned by the sensors and entered the distro center territory.

The hard soles of his boots echoed on the floor. As he descended the lonely slope into the distro center, Sam and his cargo were cleansed by equipment to remove any contamination. Before Sam’s eyes could adjust to the darkness of the cargo collection area, a cylindrical delivery terminal that had detected Sam rose through a hatch in the floor. Impatient for the delivery process to begin, Sam unloaded the cargo from his back onto the counter. It felt like he had been released as all of the weight and pressure on his back and shoulders disappeared, but a seed of worry soon began to grow in his chest.

The BB was still just drifting in the amniotic fluid of the pod.

The monitor projected into the air in front of Sam was keeping track of the progress of the inspection of the delivered goods. Eventually, a hologram of one of the staff operating in the back room appeared before him.

“Thanks, Sam.” The 3D hologram was low resolution. But even though Sam couldn’t make out the particulars of his face, he could still recognize the happiness and excitement exuding from him.

“So, you’re the one-man expedition, huh? I can’t thank you enough for all this cargo that you’ve brought us.”

The inspection concluded without a problem and instructions prompting Sam to insert the Q-pid flashed up on the screen. It seemed like the staff member still had more to say, but Sam wasn’t really paying attention.

“We’re finally going to be connected to the Chiral Network. Do your thing.”

Sam was assailed by a sensation like his feet were floating. The worlds of the living and the dead had converged and Sam existed in the space in between them. The antigen-antibody reaction was causing tears in his eyes. When this had happened at the waystation, the BB had laughed softly, but this time it showed no reaction at all.

Once Sam had regained the feeling in the bottom of his feet, he accessed the terminal and requested a private room in the basement to rest the BB.

The floor was adorned with a huge Bridges logo and it began to quietly sink, with Sam standing in the middle of it.

The building visible from the ground was only part of the distro center. The majority of it was actually buried underground.

A light vibration indicated that Sam had reached his destination. When the doors opened and he stepped out, he found himself in a private room reserved for porters. It was usually a place where a porter could rest and prepare for the next part of their journey, but this time Sam had other priorities.

“What do I do, Deadman?” Sam booted up the communications function on the cuff link and spoke aloud.

Deadman’s calm voice replied. There was a toilet and a shower booth opposite the door. To the left, there was a bed, and opposite that, a storage space for equipment that resembled some sort of display cabinet. The medical equipment next to it must have been the incubator.

Just as Deadman had instructed, Sam removed the pod and tried to look inside. The BB on the other side of the smoky glass didn’t move. Sam connected the pod to the incubator, praying for a miracle.

“Like that.”

A voice suddenly rang out from beside him. When he looked around, Sam found himself standing face-to-face with Deadman, who was looking at the incubator. Now that this facility was connected to the Chiral Network, they too could receive chiral holograms. Deadman looked Sam in the eye. Sam could almost believe Deadman was actually in the room beside him.

“A temporary excess of stress. It’s triggering autotoxemia. Easily addressed if we return it to its mother’s womb.” Deadman quietly sighed and nodded. “She’s located in the Capital Knot City ICU.” Deadman looked back toward the incubator and pointed at the pod. “Braindead, of course.”

“So, she’s a stillmother,” Sam muttered. He had heard of those.

“Correct. A stillmother’s womb facilitates a connection between the world of the dead and the BB. And you, in turn, connect yourself to a BB, granting you the ability to sense BTs.”

Sam had heard this story before. It was because BBs connected people to the world of the dead that their use was not recommended for people with DOOMS. But he had never heard why they had that kind of ability in the first place.

“These pods were designed to simulate the conditions inside a stillmother’s womb. BBs need to believe they’re in one at all times to function properly.”

Deadman’s arm slipped through the incubator partition and then through the window of the pod. Sam could see him twist his wrist and operate his cuff link.

“However, we can only maintain this deception for so long, which is why we must periodically update the environmental data by synchronizing it with a stillmother via the Chiral Network.”

Deadman’s hand continued to work away as he spoke, making adjustments to the pod remotely.

“Previously, we had to connect the pod to the mother with a wire to get them to synchronize. But if you’re inside an area with the Chiral Network, there’s no need to do that. Luckily, you just linked this area up to the network.”

Light began to fill the interior of the pod and spill from the incubator. As soon as Sam felt something weird in the depths of his nose, his eyes began to well up. Deadman’s form began to warp unnaturally, and an upside-down rainbow straddled the room. The Chiral Network had connected the BB to its mother in Capital Knot City.

“I’m reconfiguring the settings based on the latest data. The autotoxemia will be taken care of by returning the BB to the womb of its mother. If this was a real baby, it still wouldn’t be able to survive outside of the mother yet.”

So that means the anti-BT sensor system that uses BBs was formed by tricking them, huh? You still haven’t been born. You’re still in your mother’s belly, connected to her. They were trying to protect the world of the living based on a lie. What was the point if they were going to do something like that? Sam sighed and stared at the BB pod.

That said, there was still no way that Sam could abandon the BB.

He tapped on the pod with his fingertips. As soon as he touched the glass, the BB opened its eyes and laughed faintly. Sam couldn’t help but break into a smile himself. Then he remembered that Deadman was standing next to him and restrained himself.

“Looks like it’s back,” Deadman commented.

Sam nodded silently.

“I’ll try adjusting the oxytocin dosage. Autotoxemia should set in much slower from now on.”

The BB wriggled around in its pod. It held out its tiny hands on the other side of the window. Sam placed his hand on top as if it attracted to the BB’s hand like a magnet. He didn’t care what Deadman thought. The kid had been saved.

“You should remember that BBs are just equipment. Try not to get attached. Each one has been physically removed from its stillmother’s womb, a process that renders them unpredictable and prone to failure. All the pod is doing is providing an approximation of their real environment.”

Deadman sounded like a tutor admonishing a student.

“No BB on record has remained in service for over a year. It may need to be retired before this expedition is over.”

“And then?”

Decommissioned. Deadman ignored Sam’s question and went to leave the room.

“You saying there’s no way to keep my BB alive?” Sam asked.

“You must understand, there is still a great deal we don’t know about BBs. As we expand the Chiral Network and recover more past data, perhaps we’ll find our answers,” Deadman lightly shrugged his shoulders and muttered. The latter part of his answer didn’t seem addressed to anyone, it was more like something he was pondering himself.

Deadman waved his finger in Sam’s direction. “Anyway, get some rest. Now that your BB is sorted, it’s time for you to recover. You must be exhausted. Your next destination is Port Knot City, and it’s going to be one long walk, so rest up and get your strength back. Good night, Sam.”

Deadman disappeared without a sound, leaving only a smile.

Sam woke in a room alone—no, together with just his BB.

It seemed like he had fallen asleep face down on the bed. Even he didn’t know how much time had passed. But his hair was untied and still wet, so it couldn’t have been for that long. Yet the biological monitoring equipment set up beside his bed told him that his blood had already been taken using the cuff link. They hadn’t wasted any time.

Every time he slept or showered, every time he went to the damn toilet, they were always taking something away to analyze, whether that was blood, sweat, or any kind of waste. It had been explained to him when he first departed Capital Knot City. It was mostly for the benefit of managing Sam’s health as he traveled, but its other purpose was to observe and study the unique makeup of a repatriate.

If everything went to plan then they might be able to use that analysis to see how this world, the Seam, the Beach, and the world of the dead were all connected.

Someone named Heartman had informed him of this plan. Sam remembered the startlingly intelligent light he had glimpsed in that pair of eyes set deep behind a pair of spectacles. It coexisted with a curious sense of resignation, like they had witnessed the end of the world. Sam had only interacted with the man as a relatively low-res hologram—although he had apparently been by Bridget’s bedside as a hologram when she died—but Sam at least remembered that much about him.

It was why Heartman had given him such an uneasy feeling. It felt like he could see into a part of Sam that Sam didn’t even know himself. Something dormant, deep inside. Something that would spill over to the surface through countless blood vessels and pores before it wrapped itself around Sam’s body, bound him, and rendered him immobile. Like a venomous spider caught in its own web, killed with its own poison. Sam found it increasingly difficult to breathe just thinking about it.

Before Sam knew it, he found himself clutching at the dreamcatcher around his neck. (That’s what I gave you. A talisman to turn all your nightmares into peaceful dreams.)

The lights in the ceiling flickered out all at once, but by the time Sam looked back up, they had all already turned back to normal.

London Bridge is falling down, falling down.

Sam thought he could hear humming, and looked back to where he was staring before.

Amelie was stood there.

“Can you see me, Sam?” Amelie reached out, squinting her eyes as though looking at something bright. Sam loosened his grip on the dreamcatcher and held his own arms out. (Could you join hands with me?)

Sam knew his arms would just pass straight through. This was just a hologram of Amelie. An exact copy, but still just a hologram.

According to Die-Hardman, Bridges I left behind local data to recreate Amelie at each Bridges facility as they proceeded west. It had originally been intended for use when Amelie was giving instructions as a commander, but before long the staff were just using it to admire Amelie as a symbol. In any case, that was how they could reproduce Amelie in hologram form from Edge Knot City, which wasn’t connected to the Chiral Network yet.

“How’re things over there?” asked Sam.

After a slight time-lag, Amelie made a face as if she was examining her surroundings before she answered.

“Still not under guard, still not chained up… still can’t leave. But if you keep making connections, if you can get to me… we can go back east. Back home.”

Amelie looked Sam in the eye.

“Humans aren’t made for living alone. They’re supposed to come together—to help one another. And if we as a people can’t do that—if we can’t reconnect…”

Amelie looked away into the distance as if she was searching for something. Or maybe she was wavering about something. He couldn’t stand the silence, but there was nothing that Sam could do about it. All he could do was stare blankly at the gold necklace hanging around Amelie’s neck. Strings extended out from the main body of the necklace, swaying around Amelie’s chest like the rays of a rising sun. It resembled a quipu, a recording device made of knots used by the ancient Incas.

“It’s like Bridget said. ‘Extinction,’” Amelie finished.

“Rebuilding America isn’t gonna get rid of the BTs. Long as they’re still around, there’s no escaping it.”

It was a fair argument, but Amelie simply smiled.

“But at least we’ll have hope. Sam, I’ll be waiting. Waiting for you. Come and find me.”

The EKG was shrieking. It was flatlining. Die-Hardman stood next to the bed, glaring at Sam. He was late. The president was dead. Sam was shocked into silence as a door opened behind him and Deadman came rushing in. What have you done? This is all your fault.

That’s not true! As he tried to protest, a man and a woman appeared flanking Die-Hardman’s left and right sides. It was Heartman and Mama. You have to atone for it. We want you to atone for it.

Bridget died because you kept running away. Sam, you have to take responsibility.

He closed his eyes to try to suppress the dizziness.

Are you going to run away again?

He heard Bridget’s voice and opened his eyes. He had clapped his hands over his mouth and was desperately holding on to prevent himself from screaming. Everyone was wearing masks like Die-Hardman. Even the bedridden Bridget.

You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll be waiting for you.

He could hear Amelie’s voice from the direction of the door. Let’s run away. Let’s get away from this place and this nightmare. When he turned around, Amelie was standing there. But then he heard the shriek of the machines again.

Come on, Sam. I’ll be there to get you.

Amelie put the same mask back on.

The shriek was deafening. He had only just realized that it was coming from him.

When Sam woke up he was clutching the dreamcatcher so tightly that his right hand had gone numb.

EAST OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

The southern sky glowed red in the middle of the night.

Someone had said it was because the city had been burning down there for over a week.

Viktor wondered if he would be able to get warm if he got close to the burning city.

As he rubbed his fingers to try and bring back some of the sensation stolen by the cold, and tried to imagine toasting them beside the inferno, he heard a small groan from his little brother, whose head was nuzzled against his chest below his armpit. Igor must have been having a nightmare. His little brother’s eyes were shut tightly as he clung onto a small astronaut figure hung around his neck.

Viktor had the same figure. It was a hero to them both.

The astronaut was the main character from the brothers’ favorite game, a knight of the universe called Ludens.

Instead of a blanket, an adult’s coat was drawn up to his chin. Their noses were assaulted by the stench of rotting blood and flesh. It was a coat they had stolen yesterday from a dying man who was no longer able to move.

In the bathroom behind the gas station, both the door and the toilet were broken and there was no water to be found. The smell of mixed urine and feces kept everybody away. That’s why it was the perfect place for two young brothers who were all alone in the world. He wondered how long it would be until morning came. That was all that Viktor Frank could think about as he ground his teeth to try and keep the cold at bay. Viktor was six years old, his brother, Igor, four, and to them the night seemed to go on forever.

Once morning came, Viktor dragged a grumbling Igor east. If they went east and reached the coast, then they would manage somehow or other. Viktor had heard someone say so.

He didn’t really understand why or what “they would manage” really meant, though.

It was easy to tell which direction was east in the mornings. All they had to do was aim for the sun.

Their breath still came out white even though the sun was rising, as its warmth couldn’t penetrate the thin cloud cover and reach the land below.

This had been their life since that day. Adults would call it “that day,” but Viktor wasn’t sure what day they meant. They were probably referring to the day when the Internet was cut off and the TV stopped airing. Viktor wasn’t happy about how he was no longer able to play his games or watch his favorite movies. His mother and father were no longer able to watch the news and no one could connect to social media. Everyone just complained about how they didn’t understand what was going on.

Within days his parents were at each other’s throats.

Viktor’s little brother was only four years old, so he would get scared and cry when his parents began yelling at each other. Viktor began to despise his parents for it. Now he understood why they argued. They were scared.

There had been explosions all over America and no one was sure what had caused them. All branches of the government had been completely disabled. The USA was tearing at the seams and breaking apart.

Strange rumors and unverifiable information permeated through the cities at astonishing speed. Citizens grew increasingly suspicious of one another and were overcome with anxiety.

First, they claimed the explosions were part of an attack by some country. Then they said that a natural disaster had struck, affecting the entire planet. Then it was the wrath of God. Revenge of the dead. Then the rumors spoke of how the dead must be incinerated or we would be overrun by them. They said this place would eventually belong to the dead.

The number of suicides increased. Then the number of killings along with it. Neighbor killed neighbor, and those that didn’t have the heart to kill their fellow man were left with the choice of either killing themselves or getting away.

It wasn’t long before Viktor’s father drunk himself into a stupor and hung himself.

Igor was the one who discovered his father’s body in the bathroom.

Their half-crazed mother had to cut the body down, lay it in the bathtub, and cover it with gasoline. Then she doused her own body and set both herself and her husband ablaze right in front of their children.

Viktor could still smell the stench of burning hair and flesh in his nose.

The flames that engulfed his mother and father burned through the bathtub and eventually claimed their entire home.

The newly orphaned brothers held hands as they wandered through the city streets at night, until they eventually left the concrete of the suburbs and found themselves following a muddy trail. Viktor couldn’t even remember how many days they walked or how they managed to stave off the starvation. And when every other person the boys came across looked like a killer, it was only natural that they had ended up walking out of town.

After departing the gas station, the brothers found their route east flanked by rows of wilted cornfields. The sun had reached as high as it would go in the winter sky, but the temperature hadn’t improved one bit. Rising black smoke caught Viktor’s eye from the other side of the field.

Viktor felt the grip on his hand loosen and the brothers stopped. Igor freed his hand and crouched down. His shoelaces had come untied.

“Maybe we should rest here for a while,” Viktor suggested as he sat down next to Igor. A terrible smell immediately entered his nostrils. The smell of burning flesh. Startled, Viktor sniffed at his little brother.

But all he could smell was a mix of mud, sweat, and urine.

A strong wind blew, and the smell grew stronger. It was the same smell as back then. The same smell as his mother’s and father’s burning corpses. Viktor stood on his tiptoes and looked upwind. The black smoke must have been coming from a burning body. Once he realized that, the tears came. He felt deathly scared.

Viktor gripped Igor’s hand. They had to go back the way they came.

His feet hurt so much that he couldn’t stand it. The soles of his shoes were torn to shreds and every step was difficult.

Neither of the brothers said a word, they just kept walking. It was only once the smell of burning had disappeared that they allowed themselves to sit down by the side of the road. They should have been walking toward the sun as it rose, but now they chased it as it sank. They would end up back in town at this rate. They could feel the cold in the soles of their feet. Night was approaching. As Viktor thought about where they could go to shelter from the cold, they heard the sound of an engine from behind them. It was coming from the cornfield. He didn’t know what to do.

As soon as he made a grab for Igor’s hand and tried to run away, he slipped over. His ankle felt strangely twisted. Having fallen face first into the muddy ground, Viktor could taste dust inside his mouth. The car’s headlights swooped down on the two brothers. And that’s all he remembered.

When Viktor woke up, the pair weren’t wrapped in some foul-smelling coat, but a thin, musty blanket. It wasn’t cold anymore. A fire was crackling away in a metal drum that had been placed in the center of an auditorium-like room. Behind it was an altar. They were in a church.

When Viktor tried to get up out of the hard, wooden chair he had been lying in, a pain surged through his ankle. He took a closer look and found it wrapped in a white bandage.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

It was a rough voice, but its calmness helped put Viktor at ease. When the boy looked up, he found himself looking at a face surrounded by unkempt hair and hidden behind a shaggy beard. The man reminded him of a bear. He spotted the Federal Express logo on the man’s dusty overalls.

“How are you feeling? Are you hungry?” the man asked, holding out a hand. It completely engulfed Viktor’s.

Now that Viktor had some time to look around, he could see all kinds of people wrapped in the same blankets as he and Igor, taking refuge in this holy sanctuary. Now that the government was no longer functioning and people had been left to fend for themselves, this was one of the few places where they could gather to help each other.

It was this very church that ensured the young lives of Viktor and Igor Frank got to continue.

PORT KNOT CITY

Viktor was shouting down the communications terminal to the person on the other end, asking them to repeat what they’d just said. There was so much noise and static that he thought he must have misheard. But the same reply came through.

Viktor was speechless. Central was where Bridges was headquartered. That meant that everything vital to the plan to build the UCA had been wiped out. The voice on the other end suggested that the voidout might have been the result of an act of terrorism. It warned that all Bridges facilities and Knot Cities should be on their guard.

He couldn’t believe it. What was the point in volunteering for the expedition and guarding this place now?

Had the life that he had dedicated to the rebuilding of America after he and Igor were saved by the church come to an end as well? His fears were soon alleviated.

The voice was almost drowned out by the noise, but Viktor didn’t ask for a repeat this time. He didn’t want anyone to refute what he had just heard.

The communication ended and Viktor sighed with relief. It looked like he would be able to meet a certain someone again for the first time in three years.

It had been around half a year ago when he last received word from his little brother, Igor, who had long been involved in the thankless work of corpse disposal.

“Viktor, I was picked for the expedition, too. Did you hear about what we’re going to do? We’re going to use a Q-pid to reconnect the whole continent. We’re going to visit your place, too. I got hit pretty bad by the timefall, so I probably look even older than you now. Promise not to laugh, when you see me? We’re going to restore America to its glory days.”

Viktor could hear the pride in Igor’s voice in his own head as he remembered.

That’s right. America’s not going down without a fight.

Viktor conjured a map of the continent in his head. He wondered how long it would take Bridges II to reach Port Knot City if they left right then. As long as there was no change in route, they would probably head to the waystation first, then to the distro center and then to Port Knot City. He knew there were multiple BT-occupied territories between here and there, though. And even if they managed to avoid all of them, they’d probably have issues where the MULEs were active. And then, if they made it through all of that, they would have to get through the wasteland. It was unlikely they would arrive in Port Knot City without any casualties.

Viktor wanted nothing more than for Igor to turn up safe and unharmed, but he knew better than to pray for anything. Viktor continued to daydream about the reunion with his little brother. But this wasn’t the time for that. He couldn’t just think about this small bone of happiness that had been thrown to him, he had to think about the bigger picture, and the bigger prize that lay farther ahead.

Viktor put a hand to the Bridges logo that adorned his blue uniform and remembered the Federal Express logo on the uniform of that bear who had saved them all those years ago.

CAPITAL KNOT CITY // WEST // DISTRIBUTION CENTER

When Sam opened his right hand, the weave of the rope had left a clear mark on his skin from clutching the dreamcatcher so tightly.

As he lay down on the bed in his private room, Sam stared at the amulet that the indigenous people of this land had once used. Amelie had told him that it would turn his nightmares into peaceful dreams, but Sam wasn’t sure how effective it was.

He felt like lately, all he saw was nightmares. Sometimes he felt he was still dreaming. Everything felt like a dream, as though he was a fetus dozing in its mother’s womb. Some things—Amelie, burning Bridget’s corpse, and his cargo-laden journey west—he wished were all dreams. He wished he could reject reality.

Die-Hardman’s voice broke the silence. Now Sam had connected the distribution center to the Chiral Network, the director’s voice sounded clear as day, almost like he was in the room. He could even hear the breathing behind the man’s mask.

Die-Hardman was most likely monitoring Sam’s vitals back at HQ, so it’s not like he needed to ask. the director continued without waiting for Sam’s reply.

A map was displayed on the monitor on the wall. The route Sam had taken from Capital Knot City in the far east, through to the waystation and the distribution center, was precisely tracked. From there, a straight line stretched westward into the interior of the continent and toward a large lake. All the way to Port Knot City, a city nestled right next to the enormous body of water known as Ground Zero.

Sam wouldn’t be able to travel in such a straight line. He would have to work his way around all the areas that he wouldn’t be able to traverse on foot, all the BT territory, and all the areas that he knew to be infested with MULEs. He had no idea how long it was going to take.

That was one of the main reasons for getting the Chiral Network up and running, and why it was so significant to the rebuilding of America.

Once the director had finished explaining, he cut off the communication.

Sam got into his shower booth. His body had never been perfect and he was always sporting some kind of injury somewhere. But he never complained about it as he carried his cargo. Never had done, never planned to. The hot water hit his shoulders, ran down his back, and pooled at his feet. A dull pain radiated from the big toe on his right foot. The nail was hanging off, so Sam bent forward and ripped it away. The blood that trickled out disappeared down the drain along with the toenail.

Once he had gotten out of the shower, Sam treated it with a hemostatic spray. He put his uniform on over his undershirt and prepared to set out.

Inside the incubator, the BB was drifting around with its eyes closed inside the pod. The baby squirmed as Sam disconnected the pod and removed it, before carefully attaching it to his chest unit so as not to wake the BB. He caressed the pod gently to cause as little stress as possible and to put the BB at ease.

Then he left the room and took the elevator back up to the surface.

Feeling the vibration of the floor as it rose, Sam connected himself to the BB pod via the cord.

Immediately, he felt lightheaded. In his mind, he could hear the intolerable sound of metal scraping on metal and his field of vision narrowed.

He couldn’t feel his body, it was like his spine had been ripped out. The sensation should have died down after a few seconds.

But it didn’t.

His field of vision grew more and more narrow and the color drained from the world, before blacking out entirely. Sam thought that he might have fainted, but that didn’t appear to be the case. He was still conscious and, not only that, his mind was racing. Pitch black dominated Sam’s world. His body had dissolved into that black and now he existed as pure consciousness.

—BB.

He could hear soft whispers. He tried to ask who was there, but his mouth would not open.

Light drenched him as if a curtain covering the entire world had opened up.

—BB.

He heard that voice again. It was a man’s voice. The man was looking at Sam.

—I’m your papa, BB.

The light went out. Sam’s field of vision was cloaked by the man’s hand. He wanted to get away. But he still couldn’t feel his body. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t close his eyes, he couldn’t run away, he couldn’t do a damn thing. The hand belonging to the mystery man bore down on him. It would seize everything and steal it all away. Please don’t. He hated this. All he could do was feel how much he hated it.

The BB cried out for him.

The BB was scared of the hand and was screeching.

—I’ll protect you, BB. I won’t let anyone take you away from me.

That urge to protect the BB restored Sam’s physical senses. Blurred outlines felt crisp again and color was returning to the world.

“It’s okay, BB,” Sam said reassuringly, having come back to his senses.

The elevator arrived at the surface and the BB stopped crying.

Not only was Sam now carrying even more weight on his back than before, but the inexplicable vision that Sam had when he connected to his BB also weighed on his mind. Who was that man? What did he mean by “papa”? Was it because of my DOOMS that I saw that vision?

On his back, Sam was carrying aid intended for Port Knot City and some anti-BT weaponry. It was all packed away in his bags. According to the director, its value far exceeded even its weight. Most of the aid consisted of preserved sperm and eggs. No one was really moving between the cities anymore and they needed to expand the gene pool. If they didn’t, then even children born among the same generation would end up with similar genetics and all diversity would be lost, weakening mankind as a species. The aid in this cargo was the very future of the human race.

But more important than even that was the inclusion of anti-BT weapons.

These weapons used blood and fluids harvested from Sam’s body. Heartman was supposedly the one who had developed the theoretical backbone, which had subsequently been engineered into weapons and brought to life by Mama. Mama was a key member of Bridges and had been a part of Bridges I. An expert in theoretical physics, she was the woman behind the development of the Q-pid and the Chiral Network. Sam had heard she was now working in a lab on the outskirts of South Knot City, in the center of the continent and to the west of Ground Zero.

He remembered the director showing him a picture of her before he left. She wore her hair in a ponytail and sported thin-rimmed glasses and a tank top.

There was speculation that Sam’s unique constitution as a repatriate could have some kind of effect on BTs, who themselves were “special among the dead.” These weapons were going to test that theory. Sam wasn’t exactly skeptical of the idea going by his recent experiences, so he had accepted the experiment without argument. He remembered the time he encountered that BT with Igor, the incinerator where he burned Bridget’s body and the blood from his bitten lip. There had been other instances before which had given Sam cause to believe that the BTs avoided his bodily fluids.

But it was still just conjecture. Sam thought it was jumping the gun a little to deliver weapons that hadn’t even been tested yet. Where had he heard that before? Sam had to do things that no one else had ever experienced. It was true of the Chiral Network, and it was true of the countermeasures against the BTs as well. His journey west was a grand experiment in itself.

In a sense, Sam’s body was a tool. The tool that would be used to accomplish the mission. That’s how Bridges must have thought of him, anyway. But before Sam was even aware of the mission, his body had already adapted for his purpose. His stride grew longer, the blisters that covered his feet had burst and hardened, and his soles were now thick and tough like leather. Any energy he consumed was used as fuel for walking before it could even be converted into fat or muscle.

Sam was seized by the thought that his body had become their machine. Bridges probably felt the same way about the BB, maybe that was why Deadman always referred to it as “equipment.”

The wind caressed Sam’s face. He closed his eyes at how pleasant it felt. He thought he heard the BB laugh as well. The outlines of the mountain ridges towering in the distance were unusually clear. The mountains themselves blocked Sam’s path up ahead, but in that moment all he could think about was how majestic and beautiful they looked. They exuded a majesty that human hands would never be able to capture.

Sam wondered if holding such contradictory feelings in his head could be considered proof that he was indeed human after all. And the fact that the BB, too, could laugh, become scared and suffer from the effects of autotoxemia if put under too much stress, meant it wasn’t a piece of equipment either. It was human, too.

Sam thought back to a fact once recited to him by one of his porter pals. They claimed that the reason most porters failed in their line of duty was not because of any kind of physical injury, but for psychological reasons. Walking hundreds of kilometers in silence had broken a lot of their colleagues. If a porter sustained an injury they could always receive treatment, so long as it wasn’t life-threatening. But most people found their spirit broke long before their body did. It was because of this proclivity that porters were recommended to work in pairs or teams. Lone porters like Sam were in an extreme minority.

Sam’s cuff link began to vibrate, letting him know that he had a codec call incoming from Deadman.

This area was covered by the Chiral Network, so his voice came through clear as day.

“I have something I need you to answer for me,” Sam said, looking down at the BB attached to his chest. “I saw something when I connected to the BB. It was someone’s face. And they were talking to me. They said that they were my papa.”

A theatrical sigh came from the other end of the line.

The BB looked up at Sam and their eyes met for a moment. They stopped developing? Sam had difficulty believing that.

“So then who was that guy I saw?”

“Come on, don’t you know shit?” Sam hadn’t realized how severe his tone had begun to sound.

Deadman explained quickly, but Sam had heard it all before. If you worked as a porter you heard all kinds of crazy things. Sam had once heard that some separatist extremists had uncovered some long-buried records held by a former government think tank, and had a crack at reproducing BB technology themselves. Apparently, Bridges hadn’t been happy about it and stolen the technology back. Still, Sam had never heard of any BB tech talk himself when he was working there proper.

Deadman sounded genuine.

The BB had been taken from its mother’s womb before it even had a chance to become alive. Deadman tried to ignore his own relationship to the dead. And Sam was a repatriate. There was something that linked the three of them. None of them were truly members of the living.

Once Sam crossed over the hills, his view expanded and he could see the silhouette of something man-made in the distance. Sam had almost made it to Port Knot City on the banks of Ground Zero. The city was encircled by a wall that closed it off and discouraged contact with outsiders. Unlike him and the company he currently kept, the people residing within those walls were the real living.

Sam let out a deep sigh and continued walking.

PORT KNOT CITY

It was just like a space station.

The distribution center on the edge of town always gave Viktor Frank that impression.

Life in the closed-off interior of the city couldn’t honestly be called comfortable, but people could live their lives. Only those with the special key could venture outside of the facility. The physical distance separating Port Knot City from other cities and stations made it difficult to facilitate any kind of interaction with the outside world. This isolation was what reminded Viktor of a space station.

Obviously, he had never been to space himself, but he knew all about it from the movies and TV shows that he used to watch as a kid. The astronauts from the fictional worlds he loved were all heroes, emboldened by a pioneer spirit as they expanded the frontier and undertook important missions. When he had joined Bridges I, Viktor felt like he himself had become an astronaut in much the same way.

Once upon a time, their ancestors had pushed the frontier of this land from east to west. Once they had finally reached the west coast and the frontier vanished, they had set their sights beyond this land. This time it wasn’t a simple walk across the ground, but upwards into the sky. They had set their sights on space. After the Death Stranding, when mankind was cut off from the stars, the frontier spirit had once again shifted back to the journey westward.

But what was decidedly different to before was the fact that it was no longer about expanding territory but the process of reclamation and reconstruction. In other words, it was a movement to create a future. That was the spirit of the UCA rebuilding plan that President Bridget and Bridges had proposed.

A young Viktor and Igor had got their first taste of how cool space was from a TV series that was broadcast through the clouds. When Viktor thought back to that time, he now realized that people had already begun to shut themselves away. All kinds of stories and access to any information that they wanted lay at their fingertips without them even having to step foot out of the door. They could even interact with other people from their own homes via social media. They didn’t even need to go out to shop, because they could just buy everything they needed and more online.

But the Death Stranding destroyed all that.

Compared to before, humans were now confined to the limits of their bodies. Hands that had previously been able to reach out digitally and connect with others across great distances could now only connect in person. To travel, they could only go as far as their legs could carry them. The only thing that would be able to resurrect these decaying bodies that could no longer move was spirit.

The plan to rebuild the UCA was going to enable this, but until the Chiral Network that would once again transcend the physical limitations of an emasculated mankind was brought online, it was the porters who were responsible for keeping this wasteland connected. The porter system may have been small and fragile, and could only offer arms and legs that looked like they might snap at any moment, but it was also a life-support system that prevented those who couldn’t move on their own from simply decaying into nothing. The bear-like man who had saved Viktor and his brother had been a porter for one of the companies in America.

Becoming a member of Bridges and being entrusted to carry part of the American spirit had reignited the dreams of the brothers’ youth, and had allowed them to reconnect some of the lives that had been severed.

The electronic beeps of the monitor interrupted Viktor’s train of thought. The distribution center sensors alerted him to the fact that someone had entered the vicinity. But it wasn’t a warning sign. Its tone was far more welcoming and forgiving of this intrusion. A porter from Bridges was here. The monitor displayed the porter’s attributes. His name was Sam Porter Bridges. He belonged to—Viktor couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

He was with Bridges II. They had only sent one person. How could they be so stupid? Either that, or the second expedition had dwindled down to the very last man on its way here. That would mean they had been all but wiped out before they had even reached the halfway point, and the plan to rebuild America was in dire straits. And what about Igor?

As Viktor worried, Sam Bridges passed through the entrance to the center and activated the delivery terminal. Now he was unloading his cargo bag by bag into the collection area.

As Viktor looked at the total weight of the cargo on the monitor in the basement, he couldn’t believe that a single porter had managed to carry it all. It included hard-to-get construction materials, medicine, and frozen sperm and eggs. All of it was essential aid to maintain the city. As Viktor checked the inspection result, he noticed some cargo that he wasn’t familiar with. The screen displayed the name, “Anti-BT Weaponry.” He had never heard of anything like that. Going by the name, he supposed it must be some kind of weapon that was effective against BTs. He had no idea that they were even developing anything like that. He would have to ask either Sam or HQ about it. Everything else he had heard of.

Viktor opened a line to the ground floor and saw a hologram of Sam on the screen in front of him. Simultaneously, Viktor’s hologram appeared in front of Sam.

He cleared his throat in preparation for expressing his gratitude.

The hologram of Sam looked like a ghoul. Most of the hair that he had gathered at the back of his head had come loose, and disheveled bangs hid half of his face. There was some gray hair mixed in with the brown now. His stubbled cheeks were streaked with gray, too. His eyes were sunken, but there was an intelligence within them. Although he had different features, Sam reminded Viktor of the porter who had saved him and Igor all those years ago. His blue uniform was dirty and dotted with what looked like bloodstains. If Viktor hadn’t been looking at a hologram, he probably would have smelled something akin to a wild beast.

If this man was the sole survivor of the second expedition, then maybe a miracle could still happen. Viktor had to hear what this man had to say. He bit his lip and stared back at the tattered Sam.

“What’s that?” Viktor blurted without thinking.

“What’s what?” Sam appeared taken aback.

Viktor pointed at the BB pod on Sam’s chest. Sam looked puzzled as he stared down at it.

“That figure…”

Viktor fumbled around in his pants pocket and pulled out a figure. He held it up in the air for Sam to see. It was the figure of Ludens, the astronaut.

“Same as mine! Where the hell’d you get it?” Viktor asked incredulously.

Sam squinted and looked back and forth between Viktor’s Ludens and the Ludens hanging off the pod.

“Yeah, I can’t really say… but the little guy, he came with the pod, if you gotta know.”

“And who’d you get the pod from?” Viktor pressed.

Sam looked around awkwardly and frowned. “Igor from Corpse Disposal,” he answered eventually.

“My little brother.”

Viktor noticed how Sam didn’t say “from the expedition.” It must mean that Viktor’s little brother had died as a member of the Corpse Disposal Team. He must have been caught up in the voidout that wiped out Central Knot City, and now that the original second expedition had been destroyed, it had been reformed into the one-man expedition that was Sam Porter Bridges.

“I was there with him. At the end.” Sam began to speak slowly as if he was choosing each word carefully. “We were moving a body. Things went to shit. There were BTs everywhere. And one of ’em grabbed him. He put up a fight right until the end. He even tried to sacrifice himself first, so there was no voidout. He told me to take it and run.”

Viktor realized that he was gripping his Ludens tightly and shaking. He began to speak slowly, so that his voice didn’t waver.

“That right…”

Sam’s silence was confirmation. He would never see his little brother again.

“Guess it can’t be helped,” Viktor muttered as his trembling faded like it had been washed away by a wave. But it hadn’t disappeared completely. Viktor knew that it would be back in due time. And he also knew that he should let himself feel sorrow, mourn, and grieve when that time came.

“So what’s your story?” Viktor asked Sam. “You live through a catastrophe like that only to keep on doin’ the same work?”

Viktor was confronted by a man who, despite the fact that he had witnessed a voidout, had still walked all the way to Port Knot City in the name of the expedition. That in itself was a miracle.

Viktor had heard of this man, the repatriate, Sam Porter Bridges. Everyone had pinned their hopes on him at Bridges to put the plan to rebuild the UCA into action, but he had left ten years ago.

If Sam Porter Bridges was back, then Viktor was certain that this expedition could bring forth a miracle, even if it was only one man.

Oblivious to the thoughts in Viktor’s head, Sam silently held up the necklace around his neck. Six shards of metal were floating above Sam’s hand. It was the Q-pid. Viktor knew what it was immediately and began to operate the equipment.

“Okay… Been a long time coming, I suppose. They even completed that thing. Well, time to get us connected to the rest of the UCA and up on the Chiral Network.”

Viktor wondered how many times he had dreamt of this moment. He wondered if they could hear his voice in the control tower. This place, floating in the middle of the void, would finally be connected to his hometown. And just as the name of the city suggested, they would finally become a knot. Sam was no ordinary porter. He was an astronaut who had conquered this frontier.

“You take good care of that little guy. He belongs with the expedition. With you.”

It might have been his imagination, but Viktor could have sworn that he saw a hint of a smile on Sam’s face. That was enough for Viktor. Sam took Ludens from where he was dangling on the pod and placed it in his hand. “Alright,” he answered. As Sam spoke, Viktor thought that his voice no longer sounded like it belonged to a tortured soul dragged up from the depths of hell, but more like a seraph who bestowed blessings from above. However, the angelic voice that Viktor heard was no illusion.

Viktor had never forgotten how her voice sounded like music drifting out of heaven. It belonged to the woman who had led Viktor and the rest of the first expedition. It belonged to Amelie.

Sam looked up at Amelie’s hologram. Edge Knot City, where she was currently held, and here were still not connected via the Chiral Network. That meant he was still looking at a vision of Amelie made up of rebooted signals that had been patched through various wireless and land lines all the way from the West Coast, and rejigged based on the data kept locally at the distribution center. The hologram was interspersed with noise and sometimes the image faltered or the voice became scrambled. But her mannerisms and cadence were unmistakably those of the Amelie who Sam remembered.

As Sam listened to Amelie’s voice, he could feel a distance between them that he needed to close. And he didn’t just mean physically heading west.

By the time Sam realized why the hologram felt so weird, the communication had already been cut. Amelie disappeared. He couldn’t help but notice that throughout the entire short communication, Amelie had never said the word, “I,” only, “we.”

Sam thought he could hear thunder in the distance and looked back. He was already halfway under the ground, so he couldn’t see outside very well, but it didn’t seem like the timefall was falling in the city.

Setting aside his worries, Sam headed for a private room in the basement. As he descended, he was overcome by an intense sleepiness.

The feeling of waking back up was like rising from the seabed. It was the opposite of when he returned from the Seam. When he was brought back, he was desperately groping toward a vision of his body trapped on the ocean floor. The mechanism of consciousness that went into the process of waking up and returning to reality was a real mystery. The Beach was tied to an individual’s consciousness. Just as there was a feeling of rising when waking up, there was a feeling of falling when being repatriated. The Beach and unconsciousness. The two states stood back-to-back and intertwined like a Klein bottle.

As Sam woke up in his private room, he felt a slight headache and a little nausea.

The vitals that his cuff link was measuring were in a normal range. The sickness that Sam felt must have been within the range of error. Luckily, the all-encompassing pain and exhaustion that Sam had felt before he fell asleep were mostly gone.

Sam didn’t even remember falling asleep. He must have dozed off as he sat on the bed listening to Viktor’s status report.

He hadn’t had any bad dreams this time. In fact, he had slept deeply. Maybe the headache and nausea were caused by all the filth that had clung to him. He could smell the stink of his own body.

As Sam headed for the shower booth, he checked in on the pod in the incubator. The BB was still sleeping soundly.

The hot water washed everything away down the drain. The dirt, the blood and sweat, even all the trimmings from his beard. The BTs hated all of it. Sam assumed that his blood had been drawn as he slept like usual. It was his blood that was being used in the anti-BT weapons he had brought here. According to Viktor, once the weapons had reached Port Knot City, the plan was to have them turned over to Sam. Their usefulness was yet to be verified, so unless they tested them, they were pointless. If they were ineffective, they would just be scrapped.

But Viktor seemed to have great hopes for them. He told Sam how he was counting on him, the “one man who bore the duty of the entire second expedition,” to realize his dream. How they would probably now even be able to restart the boat crossings across Ground Zero that had been suspended. About how the city was no longer a lone satellite, but a knot that connected the Earth and outer space. Viktor had continued to chatter excitedly as Sam drifted off to sleep.

Sam dried his hair as he remembered their conversation, before putting on his undershirt and sticking his arms through the sleeves of his uniform. Sam felt much more positive about his journey when he felt like he had been entrusted with the dreams of people like Viktor, rather than just burdened with Die-Hardman’s instructions. Sam hadn’t taken on any jobs with a greater purpose in his work as a porter, only individual requests, for a while.

Sam strapped his backpack on and removed the pod from the incubator. Then he left the room and took the elevator to the upper floor.

Roars of thunder awaited Sam. Because of the structure of this level, which led to the outside world up a slope, the low rumble of thunder shook the floor and walls and jolted Sam’s body in its tight grip. Sam’s spine tingled and he felt a spark in his brain. He could feel his gastric juices in his throat as his mouth filled with an acidic taste and tears spilled out of his eyes.

Knot cities were built in areas that didn’t experience the timefall. That was why the incinerators were built at a distance, like satellites that emitted chiralium pollution. But none of that seemed to apply anymore as the skies poured with time-stealing rain.

Despite the strangeness of the situation, there were no alarms warning of danger or codec calls instructing anyone to be alert. It looked like everyone had fled from the anomaly and shut themselves up somewhere safe.

Gusts of wind penetrated the room from the slope, and Sam immediately grabbed for one of the pillars. The pallets that were used for accepting cargo had been left out and the wind had slammed them against the wall. It startled the BB, who began to cry. This storm wasn’t natural. This wind and thunder that were bearing down on Sam were full of malice. He didn’t know why he felt that way, but it was some kind of intuition. The Odradek was spinning around wildly. But neither of them could detect the source nor identify the owner of this ill will. The place had turned into the belly of a whale. Sam had been swallowed up and was going to dissolve into nothing in its strong stomach acid. He had to get out of here.

He stood his ground against the gale and inched his way up the slope.

The BB was wailing. It was desperately trying to show Sam how scared it was. Sam cradled the pod with both arms when the BB flipped itself around, seemingly in response to something. The kid was angry and directed its hostility at this mysterious source of malice. Sam ran up the hill as fast as he could.

There was no one outside. Just the howling wind and darkness. The lightning tore the black asunder. The air was filled with evil. The winds, the darkness, and the lightning all served it. When he raised his head, all he saw was a pitch-black sky. The clouds were undulating like a stormy sea. The waves bore flashes of lightning that felt like they were ricocheting and exploding within Sam’s skull in the depths behind his eyes, and the world went red. It was sucking him up. Sam was engulfed and began to drown in the sky.

He could see a rainbow. It was upside-down. An upside-down bridge that linked this world and the next. The ocean parted together with the sky.

Torrential rain poured forth. In an instant, the ground that had been pounded by the timefall transformed into a sticky, tarlike substance. Sam couldn’t stop the tears.

Sam’s vision warped and he saw a beach littered with the remains of crabs and coral. Before he knew it, he was in BT territory. One of the inky dead bodies was clinging to his leg. It was over. Sam readied himself. That dead being was a BT. It was the same as what happened last time with Igor. Once he was caught, all it would take was one swallow before it was game over: a voidout.

Memories of Viktor’s face and voice swam into Sam’s mind. Sam was so sorry. He hadn’t been able to save Igor and now he was unable to save his big brother either. So now it was Port Knot’s turn. How many cities was Sam going to do this to?

It wasn’t the time to rebuild America. Sam had told them that enough times. Sam saw the faces of Amelie, Deadman, Die-Hardman, and Bridget before each faded away. It wasn’t something that Sam was ever going to be able to accomplish. Goodbye, America.

The BB wailed. It howled like a beast and brought Sam back to his senses. His leg was still sinking into the quagmire, but the force that was pulling him down had disappeared. Sam strained his eyes, and through the dark could see the sheeting rain beating against a silhouette. The shape of a man that was the source of this malice. The master of this space.

“The name’s Higgs.” The man opened his mouth. Rocks and the carcasses of marine animals were suspended in the air all around him. Fish on their backs, crustaceans, coral…

“The particle of God that permeates all existence.” His voice penetrated all. It filled the entire space. It wasn’t dulled by the golden mask that covered its master’s face and mouth.

Sam had heard of this “Higgs.” He had a stronghold around the central region of the country, and together with his band of separatist extremists was responsible for much death and destruction. He was a terrorist and he showed absolutely no mercy.

Higgs appeared to defy the laws of gravity as he strode across the tar toward Sam. Masses of rocks jutted up out of the sticky, black substance and Higgs stepped between them. As he walked, he glared at Sam. It was like being pierced by the cold stare of a ruthless emperor. As the glare hit him, Sam held his breath. But Higgs was the first to look away. A second shadow had appeared on top of the rain-battered distribution center. Higgs glowered as another flash of lightning revealed who it belonged to. Her golden hair had been whipped up into a frenzy by the wind and her asymmetrical umbrella looked as if it was about to get blown away. The jet-black bodysuit that she wore from the neck down made her glisten like the skin of an amphibian. Spikes protruded from her shoulders.

It was her. It was the woman who had ambushed Sam in that cave. It was Fragile.

“Ah, so it was you that dragged him into all this?” Higgs asked Fragile.

Sam wasn’t sure what it was supposed to mean. Higgs’s voice was laced with rage.

Higgs held up a finger and waved it toward Fragile as a gust finally blew away her umbrella. The rain beat down mercilessly on her face, and in the next second, Fragile was gone.

“Heh. Bloodied but unbowed.”

Sam could suddenly hear Higgs’s voice right next to his ear, so when he turned he was face-to-face with the man in the golden mask.

Behind it, he saw a nose twitch.

“What’s that? Bridget Strand is dead?”

A stinging pain shot through Sam’s eyes. Tears kept rolling out. He was having an intense antigen-antibody reaction. He tried to get away from Higgs, but his body wouldn’t listen. It was like it no longer even belonged to him.

“America’s last president. Dead and burned.” Higgs brought his face closer, as if he was enjoying Sam’s reaction.

“Oh, and now the girl’s been chosen to take Mommy’s place…” Higgs goaded.

Sam’s tears would not stop falling. All his stiff body could do was tremble faintly in response to Higgs’s voice.

“Well, that won’t wash. She’s not cut out for politics, is she?”

Suddenly Sam’s body was free and Higgs had disappeared.

“Oh, but don’t worry. I’ll find her. I’ll keep her real safe.”

Higgs appeared in front of Sam. His mobility had once again been snatched away and all he could do was bite his lip and glare at the golden mask. Higgs passed by Sam’s shoulder, sneering at the state of him.

“You see, I’ve come to understand the truth of the Death Stranding. Oh, there’s so much you people don’t know,” he snarled.

Sam could hear Higgs’s voice behind him, but he still couldn’t move a muscle.

“The girl, for instance—she’s not like you or me. DOOMS ain’t her thing. She’s more into destruction on a worldwide scale. An Extinction Entity.”

An extinction entity? It was the first time Sam had ever heard such a term. Is that supposed to mean that she precipitates extinction?

Those who carried out the most erratic and extreme acts of violence of all terrorists were known as the deranged Homo Demens. Higgs was their leader. They thought and acted in the opposite way to however Homo Sapiens would. Sam wondered if that really was how Higgs viewed Amelie. How ridiculous. Higgs was wrong. This was nothing more than one of the Demens’ delusions. Sam struggled with all his might to shake off what Higgs had just said.

Higgs suddenly appeared back in front of Sam. He reached out with both hands clad in black gloves toward a motionless Sam. Flames erupted from Higgs’s fingers and engulfed his entire hand.

“Oh, it’s so hard to form connections when you can’t shake hands…”

The flames blazed and burned right through Higgs’s gloves. But there was nothing underneath.

There was nothing below Higgs’s wrists.

“Fortunately, I’ve got a good connection to the other side,” Higgs continued.

The space was warped by an invisible force and black particles burst forth from Higgs’s wrists. The particles clumped together and knitted themselves into several cords. As Higgs let out a deep breath, the cords came to life and shot toward the surface of the tar.

“Now you? You’re no bridge.”

When he pulled on the cords that had been swallowed up by the tar, the inky sea undulated like Higgs was tearing up some sort of carpet.

The BB was sobbing and the Odradek was rotating so violently that it looked like it was going to take off. Sam felt the same fear the BB was experiencing and grew nauseous.

“But me? I’m bound to all of it—this world, that world, and our sweet little angel of death.”

The swelling ocean surface broke. A passage to the world beyond had opened up, just as Higgs had declared. A gigantic serpent-like animal reared four ugly heads. The tar dripped from its jowls like the saliva of a hungry beast. The dead that crawled forth from that world were groping into the dark clouds in search of the living. “You’re on the menu!” screamed Higgs as the true form of the dead appeared. It breached like a whale and writhed like a snake as the rest of what was lurking below was also dragged forth. What had at first appeared to be sea serpents were in fact numerous tentacles attached to the main body of this dead creature. Its loud cry constricted Sam’s organs. This was like no other BT that Sam had ever had to face before. In the center of the enormous knot of waving tentacles, a grotesque mass that looked like an amalgamation of every evolutionary step of every sea creature that had ever drawn breath. Its hide was a tangle of scales, flagellum, and shell that squirmed unevenly.

It was an abomination born from the imagination of Demens that had no place on this earth.

“All it’ll take is one itty-bitty voidout to blow us all to kingdom come!”

As Higgs swung a hand down toward Sam, the ties that bound Sam came undone and he could finally move again. Sam lunged forward, but a wave of tar loomed over him, forming a wall, and when it collapsed, Higgs was no longer anywhere to be seen.

Instead, the monster’s tentacles came plowing through the rain toward Sam. He stooped low to dodge but was hit by another, square in the back, knocking him to the ground. A sharp pain ran up his spinal cord like a flash of lightning. It felt like his blood was boiling. The BB cried out louder to warn Sam of the next danger. It took all of Sam’s strength, but he managed to get up and dodge the incoming appendage.

The BB’s shrieks grew even more ear-piercing. Sam looked up, guided by its screams, to see the BT move in for the kill with sprays of black tar bursting forth all around it.

—Run!

Sam heard the scream inside his head. The voice belonged to Igor. The man who had fought to his dying breath to protect Central Knot City. He had tried so desperately to avoid a voidout that he was willing to give his own life, never to join Bridges II or see his big brother ever again. He had sacrificed all by attempting to save everyone else.

The BB wasn’t all that Sam had been entrusted with back then. It was now his duty to carry the dream that Igor never got to realize. Sam’s gaze fell on the figure of Ludens hanging from the pod.

He grabbed a grenade from his backpack.

It was one of the anti-BT weapons he had been tasked to deliver. They still hadn’t been tested and no one was quite sure what effect they would have. As he released the safety device, a pain shot through his right wrist. The cuff link was biting into it. Needles built into the interior of the ring were pricking him all at once. As they sucked up his blood, the grenade changed color.

It felt like it had an iron grip on his heart. It was going to rain Sam’s blood down on the monster. It was going to hit the monster over the head with the very life-force of a repatriate. It had to hurt it somehow. Such faith was unfounded, but he knew it was the end for him if he didn’t at least try.

The monster’s cries threatened to split Sam’s eardrums as he turned and lobbed the grenade. There was a bang and a flash. The malice and bitterness of the dead descended into a wail. Destroying a BT meant severing whatever lingering attachment the wandering dead had to this world and sending them back where they belonged. Sam knew this.

This world was no place for them. The dead needed to be with the dead just as the living belonged with the living.

Sam had to unravel this entangled thread and restore the world to its natural order. But where did he belong? Sam would never die in the conventional sense.

The aftershock of the explosion subsided.

But the dead thing remained in this world. The BT howled. It sounded like the warped cries of children who couldn’t find their way home. It seemed that the anti-BT weapons were nothing more than a theory after all. Nothing more than hope and delusion based on the peculiarity of repatriates. Sam’s disappointment in the weapon mixed with feelings of pity and sympathy for the BT. They were one and the same, both exiled from the place where they were supposed to be.

The BT howled again, as if appealing to Sam to put it out of its misery. It wasn’t so different to us.

He grabbed a fresh grenade out of his pack.

Sam had to steer the dead back to where they belonged. If this BT had been summoned by Higgs, then it wasn’t here through any fault of its own. If Higgs was going to exploit their bitterness and delusions, then Sam would have to be the one to purify them. Sam felt almost righteous as he grabbed the grenade.

His heart was pounding as he let the grenade fill with his blood. It sucked out so much it was almost like he was holding another heart in the palm of his hand. Sam’s vision narrowed as the dizziness from the loss of blood began to set in. Having filled it to bursting point, Sam prayed as the grenade left his grip. Goodbye and rest in peace. The dead belonged in the land of the dead. The BT swallowed up Sam’s extra heart and began to chew.

In an instant, a dull light shone from inside the BT. Sam’s blood had penetrated its insides and was exorcising it. The BT’s tentacles waved around frantically as if it was desperately trying to cling to this world as it shrieked in agony. Eventually, its extremities began to break down into fine particles. Multiple holes opened up all over the main body and the monster began to collapse in on itself.

Ripples formed and disappeared on the surface of the tar as the BT broke down, and the area slowly turned back into the wilderness they were all used to.

The incessant rain lost its vigor and the darkness retreated.

Now free of their BT cages, the dead had returned home.

The world was still, and no sound could be heard. Sam understood that the stillness was a manifestation of fear as he stood there motionless.

It was a communication from Viktor that first broke the silence and put Sam at ease.

Viktor’s words swallowed Sam up like a flood. Normally he wouldn’t be able to stand being talked at like that and would have just cut the codec call there and then, but right now that chattiness made him feel a lot more comfortable. Voices were what filled the cracks that had opened up all across this world. The voices of the living plugged the gaps and stopped the dead from getting through.

Sam sat down among the rubble and listened to Viktor go on and on. The BB slept as if relieved, and Sam flicked Ludens with his finger.

Viktor was choking up and was finally unable to hold back his sobs any longer.

Viktor’s voice was replaced by one that Sam didn’t recognize.

The device projected the figure of a man. Sam remembered him. They had conversed in his private room once.

Heartman’s picture was smiling, but the eyes behind his glasses weren’t. They held a light that felt as if it was gazing at something far away. It made Sam uncomfortable for some reason. The projection was but a portrait of the man contained within his cuff link. It was nothing more than an icon to show him who was calling, but it was still somehow unnerving.

Heartman’s voice was being transmitted from an area not yet covered by the Chiral Network, so it broke up intermittently and was hard to understand.