Hitori Nojima - Death Stranding - The Official Novelization, Volume Two

Deadman puffed out his chest with pride and showed Sam the new symbol of Bridges—a quipu . It was intertwined with the proof that Bridget had lived.

“The president must have known all of this would happen. Ironic, isn’t it? The gun that set this whole mess in motion ends up being the key to saving you.”

“Amelie—she said it had another purpose,” Sam told Deadman.

“Not a weapon, but a lifeline. A stick that became a rope? I suppose that’s one way of putting it…” he mused.

Sam was suddenly engulfed by something that felt like a soft, warm bed.

“Oh, Sam, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to give you a hug!” Deadman’s arms reached around Sam’s back. He felt warm. It was like being wrapped up in a blanket when he was a kid.

“Got something else to tell you. Top secret,” Deadman whispered into Sam’s ear. “It’s about Cliff. His BB’s mother’s name was Lisa Bridges. Cliff’s common-law wife. And…”

Deadman lowered his voice and looked down.

“Cliff was killed by a man identified in the records only as ‘John.’ Former US Special Forces. Quite good at it, by all accounts. Later appointed as an aide to the president, who used him for most of her wetwork. The records go on to state that he vanished after Cliff’s death. A warrant was put out, but he was later found dead. Turns out some people ‘die’ harder than others, though. Dear ‘John’ donned a mask and reappeared with a new identity.”

Sam nodded silently to indicate to Deadman that he already knew. Amelie had told him so. John had also had to sacrifice his past as another sacrifice on the altar of America.

“I don’t trust him,” Deadman blurted out. “But I’ll work with him if that’s what it takes. We’ll talk later.”

Deadman shook himself free and took off at a trot down the hallway. In his stead appeared the new maskless president. He was too close for Sam to pretend that he hadn’t noticed him, and it would have been awkward to walk away. Hopefully, Die-Hardman would just pass by, pretending not to see him.

It was the president who spoke first. But he wasn’t talking to Sam. It was like he was talking at himself.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me…” Die-Hardman’s voice was already trembling. “But would you hear me out? I killed Captain Clifford Unger.”

He didn’t mention killing Sam. That’s how Sam knew he was telling the truth.

“I would tell you I did it for America. For love of country. But I didn’t. I did it for her—because I loved her with all my heart. She was everything to me. Everything. Now, I’m not trying to make excuses. I just want you to know, that not a day’s gone by when I haven’t thought about it. Time didn’t help. Or the mask.”

Die-Hardman couldn’t have forgotten about the past. It lived on in that mask. Weighed down on him. All he’d done was bury it. Sam could sympathize with that. He had done the same. That’s why he couldn’t stay there anymore. But as Sam tried to leave, Die-Hardman stopped him.

“Please—let me finish. The captain saved my life.”

Sam didn’t believe that confessions were ever for purification’s sake. They were to offload a burden for someone else to deal with later. The one who took care of that burden was the savior or human to be sacrificed. If only that role was divided more equally among everyone, then there would be no need for a savior or a hero. A society that cries out for a savior is a society that’s fundamentally broken.

“You know why they call me Die-Hardman? Because he wouldn’t let me die. He brought my sorry ass back home every time. And I loved him as much as I loved her.”

Die-Hardman always needed someone to believe in, something to give up everything for. Sam was the same. Just as Die-Hardman sought Cliff, Bridget, and America, Sam sought Lucy, Lou, and Amelie.

“And when he stared me down, that ghost, I knew. He was here to kill me. To make it right. And why shouldn’t he? Why didn’t he? He couldn’t save his kid. His BB. And that’s what brought him back. I guess, when he saw I was trying to do my part for America, he remembered who he was… and he forgave me.”

Die-Hardman cried loudly, falling to his knees. It was like he could no longer bear the weight of Cliff’s forgiveness. “God! But I don’t deserve it, goddammit! There is no atoning for what I’ve done!” he cried. The man who had let his guard down and was openly weeping was no longer the president, but John again.

“Dammit!” he yelled, pounding the floor with his fist. He kept hitting it and hitting it, not even aware that the pounding had broken his skin and that blood was splattering on the floor. There wasn’t a shred of beauty or dignity in the man before him, but neither did he seem pitiable or small. Sam grabbed John’s arm and helped him back to his feet.

“But maybe… maybe this is the next best thing. Maybe he brought me back from the Beach for a reason… one last time. He wanted me to do this. To keep on being Die-Hardman.”

“No, he didn’t,” Sam cut in.

John blinked.

“Nobody wants a president who acts like they’re immortal. If you’re not scared of death, how can you value life?” Sam said, shoving the gun against the president’s chest.

“And yeah, the old ways die hard, but that’s what’s gonna have to happen… if we’re gonna come together and build a better America. ‘That gun won’t help you here.’”

The president slowly received the gun with both hands. Guns had been around since their ancestors first came to America. They were used for protection, killing, and upholding justice. But now, in the president’s hand, a gun was becoming something else.

“Her words, not mine,” Sam added.

That gun had been a bridge to Sam. The president stowed the gun in the inside pocket of his jacket and wiped the tears from his face.

“Thank you, Sam.”

Sam walked away as those words echoed behind him. He was heading outside. From the underground hallway to those fields shining with light.

“Hey, Sam. Been waiting for you.” Deadman had been standing outside like a guard. The strong shutter that stood at the beginning of the slope leading outside was down. It was exactly where Sam had set out all that time ago to incinerate Bridget’s body. Where it all began. Deadman looked up from his feet. In his arms was the BB pod.

“Lou!?” Sam didn’t even have to check. That pod was already a part of him.

“The decommissioning order finally came through.” Deadman’s voice was cold. He sounded nothing like the man who had embraced him earlier. “Poor thing was never truly alive. Not in this world, at least. I know you have a connection with Lou, but Lou doesn’t belong here anymore. Can’t risk necrosis. The body can’t stay here. I thought you might want to take care of it. You could try taking Lou out of the pod just to see what happens, but that would be in direct contravention of an executive order.”

Lou was floating in the amniotic fluid, eyes closed. Sam could barely tell whether Lou was sleeping or dead.

“And there are laws about that kind of thing now that we’re a nation. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. But if the alternative is defying the president… I can’t do that, either. Not me.” Deadman was cradling the pod with both arms like anyone else would a baby. “I’m sorry, Sam, I—”

“Alright. I’ll go to the incinerator,” Sam told him.

That was the incinerator where Sam first connected to Lou. As he handed over the pod, Deadman tried to act casual and wiped away the tears from his face. At the same time, he removed one of Sam’s cuff links.