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

“I would advise against that. I’m no expert, but I can assure you it’s for your own protection. See.” Deadman rolled up the sleeve of his jacket and showed Sam his own cuff, as if he was trying to indicate that he and Sam were in the same situation.

“So, I’m a prisoner?”

“These aren’t handcuffs, they’re cutting-edge devices that keep us all connected.”

“Us?” Sam repeated back. Deadman gestured at the wall behind him.

Sam turned around and came face to face with a symbol of a spider’s web stretching across the North American continent.

“Oh. ‘Us.’”

“Yup. Bridges.” Sam thought he caught a hint of pride in Deadman’s voice.

“Humanity’s best hope for the future—or avoiding extinction, if you prefer,” Deadman muttered, showing Sam the badge on his lapel. It was the same as the motif on the wall.

“Right. Where am I? What time is it?” Sam asked.

Ignoring the question, Deadman raised his hand again in the same swift movement as before. He removed one of the cuffs and showed it to Sam.

“Watch me. Try pressing it against your skin like this.” Deadman clamped the cuff back around his wrist and encouraged Sam to imitate him.

Sam placed the cuff back around his own right wrist. He felt a pain pierce his skin for a split second and let out a yelp.

“That just means your body’s got a good connection to the cuff link. Look, look! The cuffs will watch over you twenty-four hours a day. That is to say, we will. We’re here to help.”

A monitor floating in the air displayed Sam’s vitals, including his temperature, pulse, blood pressure and brainwaves, along with the date and time.

“What the hell… Two days?”

Sam had never slept this long after returning from a voidout before. Someone must have done something to put him out for longer.

“During that time, we took the liberty of collecting fluid samples from you,” Deadman explained, unabashedly. Sam touched the needle marks on his right arm.

“You’re a repatriate. That makes you very special.”

There wasn’t a sliver of guilt. Deadman didn’t even try to hide the curiosity in his voice when it came to Sam’s unique ability to survive voidouts. His manner was more like an academic than a doctor. Did he also know that if Sam’s body was damaged for any other reason, his ka would not be able to come back to this world, nor would it be able to pass on to the world of the dead? His ka would be forced to eternally wander between the two. Nobody could understand how frightening that thought was, certainly not this man. This man who had drawn Sam’s blood and other fluid while he was passed out in a coma just to satisfy his own curiosity about Sam’s anatomy—nothing more than an academic endeavor.

“What happened to the CD guys?”

“Central Knot was obliterated in the annihilation. Place is a crater.”

A light flashed in Sam’s mind and he bit his lip. The voices of Igor and the driver filled his memory and Sam hung his head in shame.

“The only ones to get a continue were you, for obvious reasons, and your broken Bridge Baby.” Deadman made the whole thing sound utterly mundane. He must have known all about Sam’s DOOMS. That would have been par for the course if he was part of Bridges, though.

“Is it alright?” Sam asked.

“It’s been marked for disposal. Didn’t work anymore. Why keep it?” Deadman replied.

They disposed of it even though it had returned from the other side?

Sam couldn’t fathom what the hell they were thinking.

Deadman stared at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts.

“We lost everyone. Igor and the driver from Corpse Disposal. Most of the Implementation Team and Second Expedition Team. Every soul in Central Knot City, including HQ. All of the area around where you and the others caused that BT to voidout is just one huge crater. The light and shock from the voidout reached all the way over here. Capital Knot City may be close to Central Knot City, but we never expected something that intense.” Deadman removed his glasses and rubbed the corners of his eyes. “We’re at our base in Capital Knot City now, or should I say our new headquarters. Sudbury seemed the logical choice. But our Implementation Team has been decimated, and there’s only so much they can do in two days. Things here are a mess. Fortunately, the director and his support team were out of town at the time, so the chain of command remains intact.”

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself that things were still okay. Central and Capital were the largest cities on the East Coast and happened to lie adjacent to one another. It was a miracle that Central was the only city to get annihilated.

“I hate to do this so soon, but I have a job for you.” Deadman’s expression softened, and the haggard look on his face disappeared as though it had been an illusion. Meanwhile, Sam was still lost for words. The BB, Igor, Knot City, and the Bridges Implementation Team were all gone, and once again he was the only person left behind.

“This pattern is from when you repatriated?”

Deadman had circled behind Sam and was making no effort to hide his curiosity. But putting aside everything that had happened while he was asleep, Sam couldn’t hate this man, despite himself. Normally, Sam would have kept the other man at a distance and given him nothing but silence, but for now he let Deadman inspect his handprint-covered body. Maybe it was some kind of atonement he could offer for those who had died. The numerous handprints all over Sam’s body were a record of his crimes and punishment—an endless cycle of death and rebirth.

There was most likely a new mark somewhere on his back where Deadman was looking. A brand to remember the voidout and his subsequent repatriation.

Deadman reached forward with the probing manner of a doctor, but Sam withdrew his arm as soon as he sensed the life emanating from Deadman’s fingertips. It was an animal reflex, the instinctive behavior of a creature trying to evade capture.

“I see…” Deadman nodded, neither angry nor surprised. “Aphenphosmphobia? No wonder you were out there alone. Where no one could touch you.”

Sam gave up on finding a reply. He was alone. Not only was he rejected by death, but he couldn’t even stand the touch of the living.

“I’ll try to be more careful, Sam.” Pulling his hand away, Deadman pointed to the trolley in the corner of the room. “So, the job is an urgent delivery.”

Laying on top was a small attaché-case-like briefcase.

“I need you to bring the president some morphine.”

“What president? America is gone. You talking about the mayor of Central Knot?”

“No, no, no, no. Not the mayor. America lives on, Sam. The president is in the final stages of cancer—in critical condition—but there’s still time.”

“Why me?”

“Look Sam… Do as I ask, and I promise it will all make sense.”

“Why don’t you do it?” Sam asked.

Deadman shrugged, shook his head, and smiled at Sam.

“Because I’m not really here.”

Deadman approached Sam. The large lines across his forehead stretched out across Sam’s vision. The traces of the bulging stitches on his clothes, the hair roots and peach fuzz along his hairline, and the faint layer of sweat on his skin were all visible. Still, Deadman walked straight toward Sam. Sam tried to move his body to avoid a collision with the man, but there were no traces of all the things that made a person human, their breath, their odor, their body heat. None of the things that a man with aphenphosmphobia like Sam tried so hard to avoid. So, he really was a dead man. He only really understood afterward.