Hitori Nojima: Death Stranding: The Official Novelization, Volume One

Icons representing Sam and Igor’s current location along with the location of the corpse incinerator were displayed on the map. Sam screwed up his face.

“This route’s crawling with BTs. Sure you can’t use another?”

“I wish I could, but there’s no time.” They had no choice; the corpse had been discovered far too late.

“Then just burn the poor bastard right here,” said Sam.

“And put all that chiralium into the air so close to town? Can’t do it.”

Igor looked back toward the town. Sam was right, though. Burning the body right here instead of attempting to make their way through a route infested with “them,” the BT monsters left behind from former corpses, was the safest option.

But the chiralium released when a corpse was burned lingered for a long time, and exposure caused all kinds of issues: depression, apocalyptic nightmares, even suicidal thoughts. And this was the entrance to the city. It would have to be abandoned, severing the links with the few cities left and those outside.

“Hey. We can do this. We just need someone like you, with DOOMS.”

Sam didn’t answer. He simply removed his glove and felt the body bag with his bare hand.

The skin from Sam’s palm to his wrist turned red like an allergic reaction. DOOMS sufferers were afflicted with the ability to sense death. The rest of the skin hidden under Sam’s uniform was probably covered in goosebumps and also turning a dark red. Sam removed his hand and inched his head closer to the body bag. He was sniffing at the “death” emanating from the body. A deep line crinkled between his brows.

“Well, he’s already in the first stages of necrosis. If we don’t hurry, this place is a crater.”

There was no other choice but to aim for the incinerator.

“So how ’bout it? Can we count on you?” Igor asked.

Sam leaned back away from the body and nodded. Igor offered his hand once more. “Then Bridges hereby enters into a contract with Sam Porter.”

Sam glanced once at Igor’s hand before turning back to the corpse. So, he could touch a corpse, but he couldn’t bear to shake the hand of a living person? Igor shook his head, resigned.

“It’s Sam. Just Sam.” Sam began retightening the straps holding the body in place in the trailer. Igor kneeled down beside him and followed suit. “And I can’t spot BTs. Just sense ’em,” Sam muttered as he adjusted the belt around the body’s ankles. Igor understood. The notes had warned as much, but it was still a big help. Normal people like Igor couldn’t even sense BTs. If he didn’t have specialized equipment that could sense the world of the dead, he wouldn’t have a clue where “they” were. Igor tapped on the equipment attached to his chest. “That’s why we came prepared.”

“A Bridge Baby, huh?” Sam observed.

“With its help and you, we’ll be able to stay one step ahead of ’em.”

Igor’s words were more to convince himself than anyone else that it would be alright, but he tried to hide his misgivings by taking the end of the cord attached to his abdomen and connecting it to the jack on the pod.

In an instant, the world turned upside-down. A mass of heat ran all the way up from Igor’s tailbone through the top of his skull. The world began to twist and distort, a consequence of the tears that were forcing their way out of his eyes. Sam’s face now appeared deformed like an abstract painting.

No one could accurately explain the origin or theory behind this equipment. It was a system that appeared at around the same time the world got this way. It took the form of a Bridge Baby, a newborn suspended in a transparent chamber filled with amber fluid, who could connect the world of the living and the dead, but it had been artificially developed.

The Bridge Baby twitched a little in the pod connected to Igor’s chest. Bubbles formed and popped within the artificial amniotic fluid.

“Makes me feel like shit every time.” Igor wiped away the tear running down his cheek, sniffed, and looked at Sam.

“Well, you are plugging into the other side.”

To Igor, Sam’s words sounded muffled, like he was speaking through a thin veil. He still hadn’t managed to master the tuning of all his senses. His field of vision was unstable. He closed his eyes and massaged his eyelids. Somewhere in the depths of his ears, he thought he could hear the laughter of the Bridge Baby. His eyes snapped open in response, only to find the stiff look on Sam’s face, his gaze locked on the pod. Igor could still hear the laughter of the Bridge Baby.

“Roll out!” Igor shouted to the driver. There was no time to spare. Whatever the case, this corpse had to be disposed of thoroughly and correctly. They had to deliver the body to the world of the dead and make sure that it could never come back.

The motor revved and the truck began to move out. As they drove through the gate, the sun disappeared in the sky. Thick black cloud was the only thing that awaited Sam, Igor, the truck, and the corpse.

Igor booted up the device on his wrist to check where they were. If they continued like this then they should make it in time. It was a big “if.”

“The world was different when I was a kid,” Igor piped up, holding onto the handrail in the trailer. If he didn’t say something to take his mind off their mission, it would overwhelm him.

“America was a country. Anybody could go anywhere they damn well pleased. No need for couriers like yourself.”

Sam was staring off into the distance. Igor couldn’t tell if he was listening or not, but that didn’t matter. Igor needed to speak, to say anything to hold back the overwhelming fear of what they were attempting to do.

“We had highways, airplanes, hell, you could even visit other countries! Hard to imagine it now. As you can see, the Death Stranding poked us fulla holes. Fucked us beyond all recognition. And if you were lucky enough to survive, the timefall came and washed you away…”

Highways, planes, other countries, America. They only existed as words now. Concepts for things lost in the Death Stranding. It was surely only a matter of time before the words did too. Things were the first to go, followed by language. The name of colors, animals, food, vehicles… The names of feelings shared between human beings. They would all disappear eventually. And even if the words did survive, they would no longer have any connection to reality. They would be sacred and devoid of meaning. America was breaking down into an abstraction, a set of ideas without basis in reality. It was becoming more or less like God.

Eventually, the generation who were born after America disappeared, like Sam, would become the majority. Then America really would be like God: only the word would remain. Along with the issue of devotion. Like a religious cult driven by their burning belief and fervor, the country would most likely become responsible for tragedy after tragedy.

That’s why people like Igor, who actually knew America, had to take it back. Before it became like God. Before the timefall washed it all away. Before monsters destroyed this world.

“Then those freaks from the Beach showed up. Not that I have to tell you.”

A slip of the tongue. Igor glanced at Sam, but Sam’s expression gave nothing away. The lack of reaction spurred Igor on.

“The worlds of the living and the dead all mixed together… And that’s when folks started holing up in the cities. And couriers like yourself got put up on a pedestal.”