Death Stranding: The Official Novelization, Volume Two

EPISODE XI – DIE-HARDMAN

“So you finally invited me to the Beach,” Die-Hardman said, pointing his gun at the woman. “Remember this?”

Die-Hardman didn’t think she would answer. All he could hear was the sound of the waves.

“It’s that gun,” the woman in red said, squinting as if bright light was coming out of its barrel.

“And now I’m using it to make things right,” Die-Hardman spat. “You were supposed to make the world whole—not fuck it all up.”

The barrel of the gun was trembling slightly. Die-Hardman was surprised at how pathetic he was being. Was he scared? He repositioned himself to try to hide the shaking from her. If he took one step closer the end of the gun would be digging into the woman’s delicate chest.

The woman smiled and grabbed the barrel of the gun, pulling it toward her. Despite her small frame, she was so strong that Die-Hardman couldn’t stop her. It was just like before.

“Okay then. Get on with it,” she told him.

Die-Hardman didn’t even have to think about it. He pulled the trigger and released his bullet. But she couldn’t be killed.

“There is no atonement. Not for us,” she explained. The bullet pierced Bridget Strand’s chest without leaving a single mark.

How do you kill someone who’s already dead? A heavy sense of defeat weighed down Die-Hardman’s right hand, drawing the barrel of the gun toward the floor.

Die-Hardman couldn’t tell if Bridget was smiling or crying, but he was sure he was making the same expression. If he was so determined to make Bridget pay for her sins, then he would have to face the same condemnation.

He had been the one to follow her and betray her, only to go and swear allegiance to her all over again afterward.

Bridget suddenly looked out to sea, her gaze landing on a swell on the ocean’s surface.

Something was parting the water in two and emerging from underneath. If this was the Beach, that made that sea the domain of the past and the dead. But even if the past that Die-Hardman had cast away were to resurface, it made some kind of sense to him. It would be strange, but it wouldn’t be inexplicable.

Four soldiers emerged, equipped with scratched-up helmets and clad in dripping wet army uniforms. They were soldiers from the US Army of a previous century. There was no flesh beneath those clothes. The skeletal soldiers were advancing, bones creaking and clacking together underneath their uniforms.

The sea breeze brought the stench of blood, mud, and gunpowder smoke. It was a smell that Die-Hardman knew well. Whenever he was surrounded by it there was only ever one thing on his mind.

I must survive.

He pointed his gun at the soldiers, but his finger lay paralyzed on the trigger. It looked like he wouldn’t be able to kill what was already dead after all.

The four soldiers were a foreshadowing. Their presence indicated that the past was about to strand itself. An umbilical cord stretched out of each soldier’s abdomen, sinking down behind them into the ocean depths below.

Those cords dredged up the past and beached it. The soldiers suddenly had skin, eyes, mouths, noses… Features that had been brought back to life with their malevolence and solemnity.

Die-Hardman knew that he mustn’t look. He didn’t want to see it. Yet he couldn’t take his eyes off that past, either.

A man gently lifted his hands. As the umbilical cords attached to the soldiers detached, they spread out and surrounded him. His helmet burned away, exposing his real face.

As soon as Die-Hardman realized who it was, he dropped his weapon. Unable to support his own body weight, he fell to his knees.

The man came ashore. As Die-Hardman hung his head, all he could hear was the crunching of the sand beneath the man’s feet. He felt a hand on his face. Like the hand of someone checking a dead body. His mask was removed.

Die-Hardman couldn’t peel his eyes away from the man’s face.

The man let out a sigh and a groan of what sounded like anguish. Die-Hardman couldn’t tell what he was trying to say. The man was looking at Die-Hardman’s exposed face with eyes that seemed unable to focus.

“You…” The man started to string a sentence together. The man seemed to be groping around desperately for information in the depths of his memory. Die-Hardman knew who he was, though. This was the man who had spirited Sam away to an eternal battlefield twice now.

“Yes, it’s me. John. Remember?” Die-Hardman urged. He pieced the rest of the parts together for the man. “Your Die-Hardman.”

There, he said it. Suddenly, he was gripped by a welling fear. He couldn’t stop shaking. His throat felt dry and like a fish abandoned on land, he was desperately trying to fill his lungs with air. He was covered in sweat. Something cold and hard dug into the back of his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Die-Hardman pleaded.

The gun and his fear weighed down on him so much that he couldn’t even lift his own face.

“BB,” the man said. “Give me back my BB.”

I’m sorry. I did the best I could. But I couldn’t choose. Die-Hardman heard the safety switch come off. I’m going to die here, all because I didn’t choose.

Die-Hardman closed his eyes tight. But no matter how long he waited, his retribution never came. The back of his head felt lighter.

“This isn’t what we agreed on. Give me back my BB.”

But the man’s voice was no longer directed toward Die-Hardman. It was directed at someone else.

“You’re looking in the wrong place,” she said.

Die-Hardman heard her voice. It was an icy voice that cut like a blade with no hint of indecision or hesitation.

All Sam could do as he watched the scene unfold in front of him was stand there in silence.

To him, it was like a silent pantomime. There was the man in the mask, the five soldiers, and the woman in red. Sam could guess that the men were Die-Hardman and Cliff and his men. And the woman must have been Amelie. She had probably guessed that something was going on and had immobilized him here.

But even if he could tell who the actors were, he had no idea what the story might be about.

Why did Die-Hardman shoot Amelie? Had that really happened? Sam wasn’t so sure anymore. Why was Die-Hardman kneeling in front of Cliff? And why was Cliff’s gun pointed at Amelie instead? He didn’t understand what they were doing. It was like he was watching a nonsensical play that didn’t fit together.

Cliff was still pointing the gun at Amelie when his attention seemed to snap Sam’s way. He couldn’t see the expression on Cliff’s face from such a distance. but he felt like it had pierced straight through him.

“BB!” Sam heard Cliff shout. Sam, who had just been spectating until this point, was suddenly drawn into the drama.

Cliff made one quick gesture at his lackeys and the four skeletal soldiers immediately began to run in Sam’s direction.

Was this another eternal battlefield? If so, what battle happened here? What kind of atrocity took place on this Beach? How many died in vain?

The soldiers advanced at frightening speed. They weren’t powered by logic or reason, but by some kind of emotion. He could tell they were coming here to kill him. But Sam couldn’t move from the spot. The waves that had ensnared his legs had turned to tar.

“BB, I’ll get you out of there!” Cliff shouted, black tears pouring from his eyes. But his eyes didn’t show any sign of sadness. Instead, they were full of anger. Inside the pod, Lou’s little body began to writhe and cry out in sympathy.

I’m sorry, Lou. I’m sorry I brought you to a place like this.

Protecting the pod with both arms, Sam had a sudden realization. What if Cliff’s anger wasn’t directed at other people? What if it was directed at himself? Maybe it was the same anger Sam felt when he couldn’t protect Lou. Sam felt completely helpless. At this rate, it seemed like he would be engulfed by both Cliff’s anger and his own. This was the end. If Sam’s body was broken on the Beach, then even he wouldn’t be able to repatriate. He would die here like anyone else. But maybe that was okay with him.

He felt at peace with that. Then—

Everything was red. It looked like fresh blood had taken up his entire vision. He was wrong.

Breaking through space and emerging in front of him was Amelie’s red dress. She had transported herself here in an instant and now she was stood in front of him, ready to block the attack from Cliff. Sam screamed at her to get out of the way, but then he gasped. Beyond Amelie’s shoulder, he could see Die-Hardman groveling. Next to him still stood the woman in red. Then who was this? And who was that?

As if to answer half of his question, the red-clad woman covering Sam turned to face him. The golden quipu around her neck swayed, reflecting the light. This one was Amelie.

“Stay back!” she commanded.

Sam could see his own face reflected in her eyes. It was a blank face robbed of the ability to comprehend what was going on. What’s happening here? What kind of plot twist is this? Amelie thrust out both of her arms and the tar released its hold on Sam’s feet. Sam’s body flew up high. Yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Amelie’s. He couldn’t tear himself apart from the Sam reflected back in them. He was falling back toward them. Then those eyes as deep as the sea swallowed him up and Sam disappeared.

The door would not open. Had there been a security breach at the facility?

Sam broke the door lock with the grip of his handgun and somehow managed to wrench open the heavy reinforced-glass sliding door. There was no one else in the hallway.

Had it already been dealt with? Had Lou been saved?

Sam proceeded down the dark, unlit hallway toward the room he had been instructed to go to. Even if he couldn’t save the mother’s body, he might be able to save the fetus. That’s what he had been told. But his time was limited.

The door to the room was unlocked. The lights were turned off, just like in the hallway, and in its center stood a hospital bed.

Laying there, hooked up to all kinds of monitors measuring her vitals, was Lucy.

A man was looking down at her, but he wasn’t a doctor.

Sam pointed the gun at the man. The stranger looked up and their eyes met. It was Cliff.

“Where is the BB?” Cliff asked.

Why was he here?

“I was told that I might be able to rescue the BB,” Cliff said.

Sam shook his head, maintaining a firm grip on the gun. The BB isn’t here. The only ones here are a comatose Lucy and Lou. Your baby isn’t here.

The logical part of Sam’s brain told him that he had been repelled from Amelie’s Beach and was having a nightmare, but the anger emanating from Cliff still froze him in place. As Cliff approached with an anguished look on his face, Sam began to back away. But he backed into someone else entirely. When he turned around, he found Bridget.

It was the Bridget from before Sam left Bridges. The one who had been so happy about Lucy’s pregnancy. Sam didn’t even have the time to ask himself why she was here.

“Give me back my BB.” Cliff grabbed Sam by the shoulders.

Caught between Bridget and Cliff, Sam was unable to move.

“I can’t give it back to you yet,” Bridget replied.

Sam had never heard her sound so cold before. Cliff’s eyes filled with sadness. Sam was reflected in them, now drowning in Cliff’s eyes instead of Amelie’s. Cliff’s stare pierced him, controlled him. Once again Sam could no longer move.

“Give me back my BB,” Cliff repeated, reaching out his arms. It was like they were trying to grab for Sam. They were extending like squirming tentacles. Even if Sam wanted to run, he couldn’t. The palm of Cliff’s hand pushed against Sam’s chest and sank into him. Sam’s skin burned, his flesh melted away, and once his ribs had crumbled to dust, Cliff grabbed Sam’s heart. It began to jump and squirm like a fish trying to slip out of someone’s hands.

SAFEHOUSE

Sam woke up in a private room somewhere.

His right hand had been clutching at his chest. Now it was numb and wouldn’t move. Sam had to use his left hand to drag it away. When he looked under his undershirt, he could see a fresh handprint there.

Lou’s pod was set in the incubator. Had everything since Fragile had transported him to the Beach been a bad dream? Sam certainly hoped so.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Deadman appeared. The outlines of his hologram were slightly blurred. “You’re back east of the tar belt now, in the basement of a safehouse inside Mountain Knot City. You just happened to appear here without any warning. Officially, anyway.”

Deadman’s body suddenly began to expand. His barrel-like abdomen inflated like it was about to explode, and both shoulders swelled to the point that they looked like they were going to engulf his entire face.

“The Beach is going crazy. Chiral spikes have become far more frequent,” Deadman explained. The look of his hologram had returned to normal but now it was frozen in place instead. “I wanted to go there, too, and look after Lou, but… Heartman and Lockne think that the chaos might be a result of expanding the network nationwide. Too many Beaches sharing the same space. Wires get crossed and so forth. It might also have something to do with the newly connected consciousness of those who just joined the UCA still adapting to the system. Amelie said that it should stabilize in time.”

“Amelie?” Sam asked.

“She’s the one who brought you here. I wanted to be able to bring you all the way back to HQ, but she said that while the Beach was in such disarray that it wouldn’t be possible.”

So, Sam’s experiences on the Beach hadn’t been a nightmare. The gravity of the situation began to bear down on Sam again.

“Amelie could have probably jumped there by herself, but she didn’t,” Deadman went on. “After she left you there, she left us a message. She said that she was going to finish what Bridget started.”

There seemed to be some anxiety and doubt mixed into Deadman’s tone, as if he hadn’t quite been able to process this chain of events either. Sam wasn’t surprised, because nothing made any sense.

“The only record we have here is that you turned up suddenly, without warning. That you jumped there instantaneously from Edge Knot City. There are no other records. It’s different from that time on the battlefield, there’s nothing recorded on any of your devices. The only people who know what happened on the Beach are Fragile, Amelie, and you.”

But they weren’t the only ones.

“The director was there,” Sam added.

“The director?” Deadman asked, his hologram suddenly springing back to life.

“And it wasn’t just the director. Cliff and Bridget were there too.”

“Sam, please. You yourself burned her body, remember? She wouldn’t have remained on the Beach. Couldn’t have. Not even if it was her daughter’s Beach. The part about the director I can believe, though,” Deadman said, looking up at the ceiling.

“I always suspected him. It was the way that he seemed to seek you out when Bridget was dying and put you in charge of Bridges II when the original expedition got wiped out. It all seemed a little coincidental. And then the BB experiments… he was the president’s right hand. You can’t tell me that he didn’t know. And he never told a soul. They were definitely hiding something they were ashamed of there. And it was always him who so stubbornly insisted the BBs were to be treated as equipment. And him and the president who decided to scatter Mama, Lockne, and Heartman across the continent as part of Bridges I. If they had really wanted to understand and overcome the Death Stranding, then they would have kept them all together. They all have DOOMS. They’re all experts in their fields. They should have kept them in one place and made them research countermeasures. They didn’t need someone like me there. I’m just a coroner. I don’t even have DOOMS. I suspected that the director and the president made the decision to split them all up so they didn’t start looking too closely at the BBs and the Chiral Network. But now I’m starting to piece together a different narrative.”

Deadman’s expression was stiff. Sam didn’t think that was the network’s fault this time. Deadman may have suspected Die-Hardman, but he had probably wanted to believe in him more than anyone else. It was only a gut feeling that Sam had, but he felt like he could sympathize with Deadman. He knew Deadman’s anguish of not knowing where he came from and doubting his own humanity all too well. Neither of them knew what it was like to have a parent who had brought them into this world, who was connected to them genetically or physically via the umbilical cord. There were plenty of unhappy kids throughout this world in the same boat, but what Deadman, who had no Beach, and Sam, a repatriate who was rejected by the Beach, had in common was their craving for the very existence of a biological parent. Deadman had probably seen a parental figure in Die-Hardman. And Sam… Sam felt a conflicting attitude toward Bridget, one of awe and dependence. It looked like Lucy’s observations about the relationship between Sam and his adoptive mother had been true, after all.

“Something’s been bothering me, you see…” Deadman’s words snapped Sam back to his senses.

“We’ve been operating on the assumption that Higgs was controlling Cliff. But that can’t possibly be correct. Because Higgs is gone and Cliff is still causing trouble.”

Sam looked straight at Deadman.

“So Cliff is the mastermind?” Sam’s question wasn’t addressed to Deadman, it was addressed to himself. It seemed to make sense. Deadman gave a vague nod like he had guessed what Sam was thinking.

“It might sound crazy to you, but this is my theory. I don’t think it’s possible for Cliff to have been behind everything up to this point, but that’s not to say he’s had nothing to do with these events. What Higgs was so obsessed with was the idea of hastening extinction. Now, Bridget’s plan was to bring all the cities back online so that we could rebuild America. The Chiral Network she envisioned could end up proving instrumental in helping humanity to overcome extinction, and with mankind reconnected and reunited and a connection to the wisdom of the past, that would give us a fighting chance of survival. But that gets in the way of Higgs’s extinction ideology. So, he took Amelie, an Extinction Entity, to try and force extinction in one go. Now think, if Higgs really was Cliff’s puppet, that would mean that Cliff also wants extinction, right? But Lou is the only thing Cliff has ever shown an interest in.”

Sam didn’t say anything, but nodded. It fitted so far.

“If Cliff is hoping for extinction, that would also mean that Lou is connected to extinction somehow. Maybe even all BBs.” Deadman indicated toward the pod with his eyes.

Lou was sleeping with all four limbs crossed, connected to the womb of a mother lying far away in Capital Knot City. How could something like Lou be connected to extinction? Deadman said himself that his theory was crazy. Sam wanted to believe that it was.

“BBs are connected to the realm of the dead through their stillmother’s womb and umbilical cord. Don’t you think that’s similar to the Extinction Entities that Heartman and Higgs described? Well, I don’t, but we can’t say that the BBs created after the Death Stranding are in no way involved, can we? That’s why I want to know how Lou and the others were born. I want to use the Chiral Network you connected back up for us to find out the truth.”

Deadman’s gaze was wandering all over. Maybe he was scared of Sam. Sam knew that the look on his own face couldn’t have been friendly. Before he realized it, he was clenching both fists tightly, so tight they had gone white. Deadman looked away awkwardly. Then Sam said something almost in an effort to convince himself to do so.

“I’m going back to that Beach.”

If Cliff was the mastermind, he would probably try to finish what Higgs had started. In which case, he might still be holding the director and Amelie there. And even if it wasn’t, swapping theories and conjecture wasn’t going to solve anything anyway.

“I see, I suppose that’s all that can be done now,” Deadman conceded. “But you won’t be able to leave just yet.”

“What do you mean? Is the Beach still chaotic?” Sam asked.

“Yes. Fragile is at HQ right now, but she won’t be able to jump all the way to you. If you want her to get you back to Amelie’s Beach, then you’re going to have to make your own way here.”

There was a large cracking sound, like the space Sam existed in was being torn in two. The electrical systems in the room all blacked out. Lou began to cry out in protest at being disturbed. Sam released the pod from the incubator in the darkness and placed it in his arms. “It’s alright, Lou,” Sam whispered quietly.

When Lou stopped crying the lights flickered back on.

Sam was once again greeted by Deadman’s hologram. Only this time, Heartman stood next to him.

“Thanks, Sam. You did it. The continent is connected,” Heartman said gratefully. “I’m at HQ at the moment, together with Lockne. Fragile brought us here.”

“Can you ask her to take me there, too?” Sam asked.

“Sorry, but I don’t think that will be possible,” Heartman replied.

Heartman hung his head again and this time his hologram froze in place. Heartman kept talking.

“Deadman was right. The Beach is in disarray and it’s far too dangerous to jump right now. Lockne and I were just lucky. Fragile transported us here after she returned from the Beach and before things became too jumbled. But now she’s exhausted. She’s been comatose since she got back. I’m afraid that if we don’t let her rest, she could die. She said that she’d take you to the Beach once she had recovered, before she drifted off.”

—Wouldn’t want to settle for anything less than perfection.

Sam remembered the last words that Fragile had uttered on the Beach.

Sam hadn’t meant for her to feel that way. She had already sensed the danger when she tried to jump Deadman to the Beach. Yet she still transported Heartman and the others to HQ in case anything happened.

“It’s too far. We know that, Sam. We know how much time it will take to get back to HQ from there. But there’s no other way,” Heartman implored as his frozen hologram began to disintegrate from the feet up, while Deadman’s kept shrinking and ballooning. What was the point of the Chiral Network if it could only produce this sorry excuse for communications? Mama and Lockne pointed out the risk of interference on the Beach years ago. They even took steps to deal with it. Yet as soon as it was all connected, it still ended up like this.

What’s the point of America if it can only produce crap like this? Was this why Sam had crossed an entire continent?

“Everything might be over already by the time I get there,” Sam warned. “Cliff already has Amelie and he’s going to make sure we go extinct. It’s like Amelie said. Once all the knots are connected, all she has to do is connect the Beaches and then we’re all done for.”

“Do you think Amelie really wants to do that? All we can do is believe in her. We have to believe in the woman who went all the way out west despite knowing she was an Extinction Entity. It was the same for you. Nobody had any faith in a one-man expedition. But you still came through,” Heartman replied.

—I can end it all, just like that. But what I want—what I have always wanted—is to be a part of it. For us all to be one.

That’s what Amelie said. All Sam could do was believe in her.

“With all the Beaches so entangled, you should expect the mentalities of everyone living under the network to be in disarray, too. All the alternate worlds that have run in parallel with ours are interfering with each other. What we need now is a symbol to converge them in the same dimension so that we can unify them all. That is what America is for. It doesn’t matter if there are a thousand interpretations of what a country means or what people want from America. It doesn’t matter if people embrace it or reject it. Acceptance and rejection both require the existence of America as a concept. The important thing is that everyone’s Beaches are reintegrated under the symbol of America. Only then will the Chiral Network be able to perform its intended function. That’s why we need to hold an inauguration to appoint someone as the American President. That’s why we need you to rescue Amelie, and that’s not going to change even if she is an Extinction Entity. In fact, I think that Amelie’s actions as an Extinction Entity will ride on what we choose to do now. Let’s put our faith in that.”

Heartman’s and Deadman’s holograms stabilized. Now they were clear, as if the two of them were standing in the room itself. What would Sam choose? Deadman and Heartman looked to be choosing life.

“The two of you share a very special connection. Your dreamcatcher… Her quipu… They are no mere trinkets. They are singular, irreplaceable totems—embodiments of your shared memories. They connect you two,” Heartman explained.

Sam gripped the dreamcatcher hanging around his neck. Why had this thing never disappeared in all the years he had it since he was a kid? He was never without it. Even when he left Bridges. No matter what danger he faced. He never consciously took good care of it, but whenever it broke, it did seem to repair itself. It was like a part of his body now. As he grew up and his old cells were replaced by the new, it was the only thing that had remained constant. His oldest body part.

“Dreamcatchers are a product of Native American tradition—that of the Ojibwe people, to be precise. They were said to ward off nightmares, to alter one’s dreams. If DOOMS is indeed Amelie’s gift to us, her shared dream of our future, perhaps it’s an invitation for us to change it. A test—challenging us to find hope amid the hopelessness.”

Sam could almost feel the body heat radiating from Heartman. He was right. At the very least, Sam refused to get overwhelmed by this unjust world.

“I’ll go back east. I’ll go to find Amelie,” he told them.

“While we await your return, I’ll search the Beach for Amelie and the director. I doubt my ties to them are strong enough, but better that than sitting around doing nothing,” Heartman said a little bashfully, lightly tapping the AED on his chest.

“I’ll see if I can’t find something in the records on the two of them, and Clifford Unger. Maybe they’re more connected than we know.” Deadman also seemed to have come to life in the room beside Sam as he mulled what might be coming in the future.

“Then we hereby enter into a contract with Sam Porter Bridges. We would like you to transport one repatriate all the way to HQ in Capital Knot City. We’ll be here to receive you.”

CAPITAL KNOT CITY // BRIDGES HQ

Are we doing the right thing? Deadman thought, sitting down and looking up at Heartman as the AED on his chest announced that he had one minute left until cardiac arrest. Heartman had been looking at a map of the continent on the monitor with a concerned look on his face. He headed over to the sofa and lay down.

The monitor was displaying chiral density in real-time. The different sizes and colors of the circles across it were fluctuating wildly. There was no pattern in the fluctuations at all. Uncontrollable energy was swirling around them. It made Deadman think of a newly formed primordial planet.

But it hadn’t been this way until everything was connected.

Heartman explained it in this way: when each of the Knot Cities was connected it was like creating simple junctions between different galaxies, but once they were connected into a whole, they began to collide with one another.

The AED made a beep and Heartman went into cardiac arrest. Deadman stared at the monitor and sighed. Was Heartman accessing a Beach on that map somewhere?

There was no doubt that such huge spikes in chiral density would have a corresponding physical effect on the planet. Deadman imagined that regions that had never experienced timefall before were getting their first taste of its cruelty. That new BT territories were springing up all over.

We’ve gone and made a terrible bridge, Deadman thought to himself.

If they didn’t change this world back using the meta-level laws that would integrate the Beaches, this would become the new normal. Deadman was trying his best to keep up with Heartman’s hypotheses and explanations, but it was extremely difficult to wrap his head around. The Beach is just a concept in one phase, but real in others? Maybe Deadman was destined never to understand. He didn’t have a Beach.

But Heartman was out there wandering the Beach at this very moment. Fragile had fallen into a coma from all her jumps through it. Deadman knew that he would never be able to think or feel about the Beach in the same way they did. He would never understand them and they would never get him. Not Mama, who had been connected to her BT daughter, nor the director, who people celebrated as the man who wouldn’t die. It made Deadman feel lonely. So he exaggerated his differences. Broadcast them. Even though he wished for nothing more than for people to be able to understand him and for him to be able to understand others, he was different. That’s why it was so impossible. He used that excuse as a shield. He told others that he was made of seventy percent cadavers. That he was grown from pluripotent stem cells. He wanted to connect with other people more than anything, but he used these tales as extreme cover stories to refuse the formation of those bonds in the first place.

For someone like Deadman, the BBs were special. He felt like they were something he could identify with, that they could be a means to understand himself. That they would help him to finally get closer to someone. In this case, Sam. Not being able to go to the Beach himself, he had seen something of a kindred spirit in Sam, who could only go as far as the Seam. It was like the BBs had become a bridge for Deadman to finally reach out.

Now that he felt like he finally understood someone, he had an epiphany. Perhaps the meta-level law that would integrate the Beaches was that kind of understanding. Maybe some kind of symbol that connected people. Something that made it possible for people to understand each other or bestowed people with an identical delusion in which to share. It didn’t actually matter what it was.

Once Deadman had his revelation, Heartman came back to life.

He looked at Deadman with a puzzled expression as he sat up and wiped the tears from his face.

Deadman realized that he had been crying, too. He began waffling on about his epiphany in a bid to explain his tears away.

Heartman listened to what Deadman had to say, showing him a smile at various points along the way. He was looking at Deadman with the pride of a teacher listening to a bright student, and watched as Deadman tried his best to explain his theory so animatedly that he broke out into a sweat.

“That’s right.” Heartman nodded in satisfaction and gave the thumbs up. “But let me elaborate a little. Both Neanderthals and Homo sapiens are believed to share a common ancestor in the form of Homo heidelbergensis, but there are clear differences between the two. Neanderthals were brutish and brawny, well-equipped to hunt larger animals and survive in colder climates, whereas Homo sapiens were slender-limbed, and only capable of hunting smaller prey. The Neanderthals even had larger brains than us. Normally one would think that would mean the Neanderthals would outlast us Homo sapiens. But they didn’t.

“As millennia passed, Homo sapiens learned to create tools and hunt in packs. The Neanderthals also fashioned tools of their own, but these were crude in comparison, and developed little over 200,000 years—perhaps because these simple-minded beings favored small family units, so that even if a breakthrough occurred, it was unlikely to be shared with others. This isolation, more than any other factor, seems to have led to their decline.

“Homo sapiens, meanwhile, conceived religion, with which large numbers of individuals could be bound together in service to a common cause. Strength in numbers also made their communities more resistant to famine and other calamities. In other words, Homo sapiens grew stronger through interpersonal connections. By creating what came to be called ‘society.’ The meta-level law we talk about could be referred to as fiction. While each Beach belongs to an individual, what unifies them all is a common fiction.”

After listening to Heartman’s explanation intently, Deadman turned back toward the monitor showing the North American continent. The chiral density was still spiking wildly. What kind of fiction, what kind of story, would be needed to resolve this?

“There is something that we will never be able to influence, no matter how we apply ideology, principles, religion, myths, or disciplines like science. Homo sapiens are weak. If tossed out naked into a forest with no tools, we’d die extremely quickly. So we put distance between ourselves and our natural state to survive. But the price we paid was giving up a part of us that we’ll never find our way back to. Despite its evident nature in all other living things, we became estranged from it. Yet we still struggle unconsciously against it. I suppose it’s also why I keep dying for twenty-one minutes at a time, even though I know I’ll never see my wife or daughter again,” Heartman said, tapping his AED. “Philosophers named this part of us ‘Id.’ On a primitive level, Id thinks. Id determines. They recognized that this Id that humans can’t control is what makes the world go around. That’s why people make offerings. To try and appeal to that part of us that no one can reach. I’m sure you must know the song of London Bridge. There’s a theory held by some that the My Fair Lady mentioned in its lyrics is a human sacrifice buried in the foundations of the bridge. The bridge was destroyed and rebuilt so many times that people started to bury others alive there, to appease whatever was causing such misfortune. Today we’d consider this illogical, irrational nonsense. But when everyone believes in something, it gives that thing meaning and a function in reality. This is another example of the meta-level law of fiction.”

An electronic voice put a stop to Heartman’s long-winded speech. Heartman lay back down, wondering aloud if he had talked for too long.

“Id was what made this heart-shaped heart.” Heartman pointed to the left side of his chest and winked.

“Maybe Id flows through the Beach and the Beach comes from our Id. Or maybe Id is the Beach itself. In any case, the Beach summoned the BTs here and acted as an intermediary for the Death Stranding. It’s an unpleasant, frightening domain, yet we can still ‘use’ it. This is a new reality for us, a new dimension of fiction. That’s why I believe that you have a Beach too, Deadman, even if it does differ from mine. Oh, looks like I’ve talked too much, it’s almost time. I’m off.”

The AED began to play the Funeral March and Heartman closed both eyes. All Deadman could do was look at the monitor now he had been left all on his own again. Heat was radiating from the center of his head. It was like his thoughts and emotions were swirling into a vortex. Just like those displayed all over the monitor.

SOUTH KNOT CITY OUTSKIRTS // SAFEHOUSE

Sam fiddled with his cuff link in the midst of a downpour and unlocked the door to the safehouse. He descended to the private room in the basement, connected Lou to the incubator, and had just sat down on the bed when he was finally overwhelmed by tiredness.

It had been more than ten days since Sam woke up after returning from Amelie’s Beach. At least, that’s what it felt like. Sam had already lost count.

The cuff link wasn’t operating as it was supposed to. Both the vitals monitoring devices and the log system had stopped. Even the communications function was fickle. The map was still displaying properly, but it hadn’t updated lately and still only showed the old data from Sam’s outward journey. For all intents and purposes, it was broken. Or, to look at it in another light, Sam was now free from the shackles of all of Bridges’ systems.

That might have made him quite happy once upon a time, but not right now. He had no idea about Amelie’s movements or anything else that was going on around him and the stress was becoming unbearable. He had been repeatedly struck by a profound sense of isolation, like he and Lou were shut off in their own little world. His communications with HQ were limited to when he reached Knot Cities, Bridges facilities, and safehouses equipped with communications terminals.

Lockne deduced that the reason the cuff link was acting so strangely was due to all the chaos on the Beach. It was interfering with the flow of time and causing lags in communication. The system was completely incapable of handling its new load. Sam could communicate to a point using fixed communications equipment, but mobile devices were useless.

The timefall continued to pour. On his way here, Sam had seen the dense chiral clouds that blocked out the sky illuminated by bands of light. They were similar to the auroras that were observed at the poles, and looked like blood bleeding out of the heavens or enormous dragons crossing the cloudy sky.

The Chiral Network had warped and twisted this world—the time-space of this continent. And Sam knew he only had himself to blame. He felt shackled by the weight of his actions on his shoulders. He couldn’t even excuse it by saying that he was asked to do it. Putting things right was the cargo he bore now.

Sam activated the communications equipment in the room. He established a link with HQ and connected with Deadman. The timeless, high-capacity Chiral Network was now just a network in name only and could only offer a voice-only connection.

They still hadn’t found Amelie, Die-Hardman, or Cliff. Nor any clue about how to access Amelie’s Beach. Deadman’s investigation, however, had yielded some results.

“That doesn’t make sense. The first BB experiments took place long before Lou became a BB. That can’t be the reason why Unger keeps going after Lou.”

Sam could still vividly remember what he saw when he activated the communications terminal in that ramshackle facility by the tar belt. How a BB pod was embedded in that equipment that looked like a huge cross. So, he hadn’t imagined it after all. The thought made him feel sick.

What were you up to, Bridget? What kind of America was she trying so desperately to rebuild if she would go so far as sacrificing unborn babies? What’s the point of surviving extinction if she was just going to throw away lives? Sam wondered if the reason Higgs was so bent on having humanity wipe themselves out was because he knew all of this. Or was he just a vehicle for Cliff’s intentions?

Had Fragile managed to get anything out of him on Amelie’s Beach? Sam needed to wake her up out of her coma and get her to tell him everything she knew about Higgs. Yet another reason why he needed to get back east as soon as possible.

SOUTH KNOT CITY

Even after traversing back over the snowy mountains that had given him such a battering on his way west, passing by Mama’s old lab where he had found her holed up with her BT baby, and finally arriving at South Knot City where Fragile’s body had been ruined forever and sullied with the marks that caused her such shame, the skies hadn’t changed at all. The timefall may have let up, but the clouds were still illuminated by beams of light that looked like bloodstained dragons.

Once he had arrived, Owen Southwick, a Bridges employee who was stationed in South Knot City, gave Sam the news that the Elder had passed.

—I’m no prepper. I’m just a parasite.

Sam remembered the Elder saying that as he gave his shelter over as a knot for the Chiral Network.

Ever since he had joined the UCA, America had gotten more and more involved with the Elder’s life. The Elder used to refer to himself as a parasite, but now it was America’s turn to exploit his shelter and feed off him. Maybe some people would call that coexistence or symbiosis, but while the Elder had died, America had lived. America had completed the Chiral Network and created this distorted world, all for the purpose of sustaining itself. The sole reason America disposed of the Elder’s dead body was for its own preservation. It was like the Elder and all other people under the UCA were nothing more than resources. American reconstructionism was touted as a way to save mankind from extinction, yet all it had done so far was leave a trail of human sacrifices in its wake.

“The Elder seemed grateful to you guys,” Owen told Sam. Even though the surface was even more dangerous than before, Owen Southwick insisted that meeting in hologram form would not do and he had come up specially to the cargo room on the upper floor.

“He told me to thank you and all the other couriers and porters. Fragile and her dad, too.”

“Fragile and the others deserve gratitude, but not me,” Sam commented.

Sam hadn’t gone all the way to the Elder’s shelter for the Elder’s sake. It hadn’t even been for something altruistic like saving mankind. The only reason he had taken part in this ridiculous plan was because he wanted to save Amelie and Lou. And underpinning all that was nothing but a selfish desire of wanting to prove his own self-worth as a repatriate. He just wanted to know why he had been born this way. In that sense, he was also a parasite, just one on America and this expedition.

“Come on, Sam. There’s plenty to thank you for. It was you and Fragile who saved us for a second time, remember?” Owen said, reaching for Sam’s arm. When Sam avoided his grasp, he looked a little dejected. Sam felt sorry when he saw Owen’s expression. How could he possibly accept the gratitude of someone he wouldn’t even let touch him?

“The Elder was amazed. He couldn’t believe there were still people out there who were willing to put their lives on the line to save us. If that nuke had made it into South Knot City, he would have been caught up in the blast, too. But that’s not all he wanted to say. Back when America was the United States, his uncle was drafted into war. America was getting involved in pretty much every conflict going—not that there was a shortage at that time.”

The warzone that Cliff always brought with him was a senseless battleground from a war called the Second World War. It was a war fought with fighter planes, tanks, bombs, and other small arms—weapons that drowned out the voices and screams of their victims. Sam remembered the stench of blood, mud, and oil.

“The Elder talked about the nuclear bomb. He said it was a weapon that was created at the end of the Second World War. One that could slaughter thousands in one go. Made it impossible to tell who had died and in what way. He used to say that it was the symbol of mass-produced human suffering. Each and every human is precious. Every single one of us is irreplaceable. That’s what we’re all taught to believe, right? Well, a nuke extinguishes the sanctity of individual human life. When the Elder’s uncle returned from the war, he fell ill with a heart condition and eventually went on to kill himself. But that wasn’t a senseless death. That was a death that he chose. In his suicide note, he described it as ‘dying with dignity.’

“If Higgs’s plan back then had succeeded, he would have been yet another anonymous death. Another person killed en masse. If he hadn’t joined the UCA he would have died all alone, necrotizing into a nameless monster and potentially a living nuke himself. And even if he didn’t, no one would have even known that he’d died. Sure, all the UCA did was acknowledge his death and deal with his corpse, but there was a record of him. Someone knew. He was a part of someone’s memory. And that was all down to the connection you made. And for that, the Elder was grateful.” Owen removed a scrap of folded paper from his pocket and gave it to Sam. “The Elder gave me this before he died. He told me to give it to you if I ever saw you again.”

All it said was, “Thank you, Sam.” It was written in pen. The ink was blurry and the scrap smelled of tobacco smoke.

Along with the Elder’s words of thanks was his name.

Owen had probably notified HQ that Sam had arrived. As soon as he activated the communications terminal in his private room, he heard Deadman’s voice.