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

Igor tried to yell at the driver to change direction, but it was too late. The truck was shuddering hard as it raced across the rugged terrain and the air was filled with the screams of the driver and the screech of the brakes. Igor could see a large black handprint stuck firmly to the windshield over the driver’s shoulder, but its owner was nowhere to be seen.

Igor’s body lost all sense of weight. He thrust his hands out, groping for anything to hold onto. There was nothing to grab. He was screaming something, but couldn’t seem to form any words. Igor was thrown from the trailer and smashed into the ground.

Igor awoke to the sound of groans. He picked himself up off the muddy ground and looked around. The groans were very close. The truck had tipped over on its side. Beneath it, Igor found the source of the pain. The driver was pinned, his whole lower body hidden under a pile of metal. He was frantically twisting his body and waving his arms as if trying to fight off a wild animal. Drenched in timefall, his face had already transformed into that of an old man. It was contoured with deep lines and his hair was a snowy white, but the groans that pleaded for someone to save him still betrayed the man’s youth.

Knowing that he had to save him, Igor started toward the truck when he noticed a movement from the corner of his eye. It was Sam. He was walking in the direction of the body bag which had been tossed out of the trailer with them. He was half-dragging his right leg behind him. The blackened body bag began to glow gold where it used to cover someone’s face. It looked like a casket with a warped golden mask stuck to the front. Countless minute particles were welling forth from the stomach area, stretching out into a single thread that rose up and beyond into the sky.

This was the final stage of necrosis. The step before humans transformed into monsters instead of passing on peacefully.

It was a scenario that he had only ever heard people tell stories about. A process that he had been lectured on when he was first assigned to the Corpse Disposal Team. And now, it was playing out in front of him.

When humans die, their ka escapes their ha . This was a concept that had been investigated by the ancient Egyptians and explored the two elements that made up life. When the body, or ha , necrotizes and lingers in this world, the soul, or ka , becomes lost in search of it. It remains in the area where it died, looking for it for the rest of eternity. Bodies had to be burned immediately to let the soul know that there was no longer a body to go back to. If the body wasn’t burned, the soul would become a Beached Thing and continue to search for the living.

The last thing they needed was another body going necro. Igor slid his arms under both of the driver’s armpits and braced his feet against the ground to try and pull him out. But the driver wouldn’t budge. All Igor could do was try and ease the screaming driver’s fear and pain.

“Shut up! Don’t even breathe!” Igor turned back toward the sound of Sam’s voice and clasped both hands around his mouth, realizing his mistake. The driver followed suit.

The cross-shaped Odradek pointed above them and began spinning rapidly, illuminated with the orange warning light that meant BTs were right there.

Just as Igor and Sam couldn’t see the BTs, the BTs couldn’t see Sam or Igor. They sought out the living by homing in on breathing and other sounds. For those without a high level of DOOMS, the only sign they were near were the oil-slick handprints left behind as they hunted.

A handprint appeared on the door of the overturned truck right at Igor’s side, before another then another, making their way farther and farther down the vehicle. A BT was groping for them in the dark.

Igor held his breath, praying he wouldn’t make a single sound. That was the only way they were going to get out of this mess.

His prayers were answered. The sickening black handprints traveled away from the pair. Igor turned to thank Sam for raising the alarm, but he was about to speak too soon. The body bag began convulsing. It shook violently, twisting and contorting the bag, but soon it started to lessen. The shuddering grew gentler until it stopped altogether.

The straps binding the body bag snapped apart loudly one after the other. A sticky, tarlike substance pooled on the ground underneath the body as small particles of glittering dust floated up from the golden death mask that had formed on the outside of the bag.

Sam looked up. “Shit. It’s necrotized.”

The handprints returned as if they had heard Sam’s murmur. Or, maybe they were here for the newly necrotized body—their new friend. All Igor could do was watch the trail of handprints as he kept his hand firmly clasped over his mouth.

Sam fell backward into the mud, scrambling to get away from the handprints, his hand also clasped tightly over his own mouth. They seemed to be confused. Were they after Sam? Or the body? Please be heading in the direction of the body. Igor was praying again, but no luck. The handprints began to move toward Sam. Those whose deaths had been interrupted—the necrotized dead whose ka never made it to the other side—relentlessly pursued the living.

Sam held his breath, dragging his leg as crawled backward. He could now see how much blood he was losing from it, even in the darkness. Despite this, Sam threw Igor a look that urged him to escape. The handprints stopped. It was almost like they were carefully considering something. Igor couldn’t let this opportunity that Sam had given him go to waste. He strained his arms to try and prize the driver free once more.

But the driver was already past his breaking point. He began to wail in agony, couldn’t stand the pain any longer. That roused the monster. The handprints changed direction toward Igor and the driver, no longer lost but focused. They were coming at full speed. That wasn’t all. Igor could feel the presence of the dead from the truck behind him. They were surrounded.

Igor let go of the screaming driver and stood up. Silently, he begged the driver to be quiet. The driver’s screams were leading the dead right to them.

If you were unlucky enough to get caught by the handprints of the dead, they would try to embrace you. The living and the dead together. Matter and antimatter. When two things that were never supposed to meet were brought together, it created an immense explosion.

“Help me! HELP ME!”

The driver kept screaming. Those screams were proof that he was alive. Those screams were giving the dead something to aim for as they swarmed closer. Igor took out his handgun and pointed it at the driver. The dead didn’t want the dead. If the dead embraced each other, nothing would happen.

Igor readied his trigger finger. It felt so heavy that it didn’t feel like his own appendage anymore. Before Igor could gather his resolve to pull the trigger, the dead grabbed the driver. Unable to move out of the way, the driver’s body was yanked out from under the truck by an invisible hand and dragged into the air.

“Sorry.”

Igor’s bullet pierced the driver’s head and he died instantly. The dead lost interest in the driver immediately. Igor knew what he had to do next.

He shot a look at Sam that said he would be putting his faith in him to finish the job. But behind Sam, a figure appeared on top of the overturned truck. Following Igor’s line of sight, Sam turned around. It was too dark to make out the figure’s face, they were wearing a hood and cloak. Against their chest, a BB tank glowed red. The figure raised a hand into the air and pointed at something.