Sam and his BB wandering the post-Gold Morning worlds, making their deliveries.
Flower of Fingers [Ward/Death Stranding]
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Chapter One
Chapter One: "BRIDGES"
Sam took a deep breath, drinking in the atmosphere, and adjusted the BB hanging from his chest before proceeding to descend the hill. The spring grass caressed his ankles as he walked. Occasionally, the Odradek emerged from his shoulder to scan the terrain for obstacles and threats. It told him nothing that his eyes scrutinizing the darkness didn't already know.
"There's no one here except us, damn fools." muttered Sam.
The weight he carried on his back was a reminder of why he was here.
Not for him. If it were up to him, he wouldn't have done a damn thing.
"At least I'm taking my steps."
For better or worse, he couldn't turn back. Complaining every step of the way wouldn't help much. In any case, he was a porter. Delivering shit was what he did, his way of life, even if he had rejected the request, the desires they wanted him to carry, he would end up doing the same thing just for another reason.
Things were as they were.
That's why he didn't believe that reconnecting people would change anything.
That's why he would do it anyway.
Sam kept going, despite the fatigue that overwhelmed him. He hadn't planned the route well. It shouldn't have gotten dark. Anyone could make a mistake, but it was a mistake that could cost him... Well, not his life. For better or worse, not his life.
As if tempting fate, the Odradek went crazy. It was an unmistakable alarm signal. He had entered a BT zone. Thanks to the connection he had with the BB, he could see them. Shadows even deeper floating in the sea of night darkness. Dense and thick like ink, always changing shape.
Sam crouched immediately and as quickly as he could, trying to make no noise, he hid in the hole of a nearby cave.
He pressed his back against the wall, breathing deeply.
Sam put his hands to his mouth when one passed too close, holding his breath.
He endured some very tense moments before the being finally passed by.
But that being, like the others, continued wandering around the area. Looking for someone, anyone, to drag them to hell with them.
I can't go with you, he thought suddenly, maybe due to lack of air.
I'm stranded.
When he saw a clear path, Sam continued, still crouched, walking as quickly as he could considering the necessary caution. A misstep would make all those bastards pounce on him.
He had no choice but to cross the BT territory. There was no way around it, at least with his current equipment. Sam hadn't been given the time to fully familiarize himself with the area either before being sent on this task, but the Odradek, his instinct, and his natural abilities gave him a sufficiently precise idea to assert that.
It was forward or nowhere.
But, apart from not wanting to be caught by BTs again in his life if he could avoid it, the cargo on his back was fragile. He had to be especially careful, or the trip would have been for nothing.
Thanks to the BB, he could see the BTs wandering. This was much easier than usual, needing to send a pulse from the Odradek to detect anything. And that in itself could make them detect him.
There was no reason for anything to go wrong, in summary.
Of course, life didn't need reasons to screw you over. If there was one thing he had learned from life, it was that. So now Sam Porter Bridges was always prepared to be screwed.
He reached a ravine, with the utmost caution. He judged the distance from one side to the other by eye. He didn't need the Odradek for everything.
Sam nodded to himself unconsciously, satisfied, when he concluded that it was short enough to cross. Not in a jump, of course. He wasn't crazy and was carrying a lot of weight. About eighty kilos on his back, and that was just counting what he had to deliver, besides his tools.
Like the ladder he needed now. Sam took it out and unfolded it, placing it to cross the ravine.
Aware that the BTs were still nearby, but also that there was no other choice, Sam took a deep breath, held his breath, and waited for his opportunity. When he thought he had it, Sam took a step forward. His boot stepped on the metal with determination. The ladder trembled.
Naturally, it wasn't very well secured, the important thing was that it didn't fall.
And that those bastards weren't on top of him.
He took another step and then...
Yeah, he had screwed up. He had messed up. Even though he wasn't really in danger, his heart leaped to his throat.
As soon as he heard it. The last thing an endless number of porters heard. An inhuman scream, a chorus of infernal voices. They appeared around him out of nowhere, followed by the tar-like darkness they carried with them. Around him and under his feet. The black hands grabbed him tightly by the legs, pulling him down.
As if that weren't enough, the BB started crying inside its capsule.
It was as real as the BTs, maybe, but it still wasn't pleasant to hear something that seemed like a baby cry.
Sam moved slowly through that tar-like substance, writhing, trying to shake off the ghostly hands dragging him down. And when he managed to shake them off, he felt as good as if he had already escaped. His lungs and mouth expanded to absorb as much air as possible, as if to taste the flavor of freedom.
But of course, the infernal chaos had only just begun.
The fragile rationality that every human had to cling to was collapsing around him. The BTs advanced, spreading their corruption across the terrain. If they caught him, this entire area would turn into a black sea.
Countless worlds had already ended, and anyway, they were on the brink of the beginning again. Misfortunes never came alone. One tragedy paved the way for the next.
At least this was a place in the middle of nowhere, but he didn't want to be the cause of the next tragedy. Therefore, even though he wouldn't die, he had to give it his all.
Sam kept going, gathered strength, and started running. The BB, of course, didn't stop crying. I get it, he thought. I'm scared too, damn it. I'm trying.
He got far.
But not far enough. He couldn't run faster than those creatures, of course.
They didn't need to move in the first place, so running wasn't the right word. He kept fighting with all his strength, staggering out of the tar and running again as soon as his body was able, but in the end, it wasn't enough. There was no other way to cross than the ladder, but it had been a screw-up anyway.
He should have placed a climbing anchor, descended as much as he could, and looked for another route.
But everything seemed clearer when you looked back.
Sam fell into the black sea. The hands were waiting for him.
No, that wasn't true. Too many people preferred to look back nowadays and saw everything distorted. He was a man on a mission, doing all the damn work, because they had chosen to look back.
He was dragged dozens of meters backward at blinding speed.
Yes? Covering the world with cable didn't end wars and suffering. Don't be surprised when everything falls apart if you try to do it again. Over and over; connect, reconnect... it's not that simple!
The black hands let go of him. Of course. Because they were there to Catch. The one who hunted him once he was caught was...
A huge BT, its body all made of dark tentacles. In its head, there was a bright hole that was an eye and a mouth to devour him whole at the same time. The tentacles separated from the body, extending towards their prey. Before, the darkness had only appeared at his feet, to slow him down, to make it harder to take each step. But now it was a true black sea. The entire area was engulfed and unrecognizable. Not a hint of greenery could be seen.
As if they didn't have enough with the end of the worlds, now they had this shit on top.
Sam turned around and started running.
"Calm down, BB. Calm down."
If he got too agitated, things would get even worse.
His legs reached the bottom, reaching the grass submerged in that shit, so maybe calling it a sea was an exaggeration. A bit, but not too much. It reached as far as the eye could see and felt fucking endless.
That thing was on his heels, stirring the black sea, bringing its own waves to it.
That dragged him. That shook him.
Sam Bridges felt like a handful of shipwreck debris at the mercy of the tide.
A car came floating towards him, with enough speed that there was no way to go around it. Sam rolled over the hood of the car to get to the other side, safe and sound, more or less, his ribs hurt but had been hurting for a while simply due to the weight and the pain was just a passing sensation like all other existing sensations.
Sam chose to get into an industrial container that also floated in that dark tide. Of course, the BT could destroy something like that as if it were a toy.
But wait...
Well, he had something like a plan and hoped it would work.
The BT tried to follow him inside, sticking its head in. The headbutt made the rear doors explode open as well, and Sam slipped in, falling, landing again in that black sea.
Now the industrial container hung from the neck of that horrible and huge creature.
He hoped it would slow the creature down for at least a few seconds. Even ten seconds of advantage could mean the difference between escaping and, well, the consequences. For the environment and every living being in this area.
Sam kept running, of course, but couldn't help but look back to check the result of his efforts. Indeed, it was shaking, trying to get rid of the container. The tentacles grabbed the metal, easily bending it, it would soon get rid of it, reducing it to a ball of metal. Very easy. It was the equivalent of a lion feeling annoyed because a needle had stuck in its paw, but that was enough for him.
He didn't have to run much further.
To get out of the BT zone. For the sky to clear, to be able to breathe easy again, in more than one sense, because it wasn't just about fear, the air itself changed in there.
The baby... I mean, the BB was still crying.
"Calm down" said Sam, detaching its capsule to be able to hold it in his arms and shake it slightly. "It's all over now."
A lie of three pairs of balls, of course, nothing was over, the real shit hadn't even started, and they would work together for a whole year full of the same dangers. But the important thing here was, obviously, the tone of the words.
He didn't have to rock it for long to make it stop crying.
Good.
He wasn't good at these things.
The delivery place wasn't far, Sam checked the map on his Q-pid, although he didn't need it, things of a porter.
With a bit of luck, he could take a good, long, hot shower and rest soon.
Sam took a deep breath.
Then, he reattached the BB capsule to his suit.
"Let's go" he murmured, his voice barely audible.
A Case 53.
He looked familiar, so Sam assumed he was or had been a famous cape, lucky enough to survive the Golden Morning on the front lines. Because everyone had been on the front lines until the end.
But Sam wasn't really interested in those kinds of things, so he couldn't remember his name, if he had ever known it at all.
It's not like he was the unprofessional type who didn't remember his clients' names. The name under which the order was placed was Tress, and he doubted that was this guy's name. Then again, you never knew.
In any case, he had done his job and would soon be resting as he deserved. Nothing else mattered.
"Thank you very much. The package is practically like new."
He wasn't interested in receiving the client's gratitude either. He was a porter and carried things, end of story. No need to complicate things with personal feelings.
"I... It doesn't feel right talking about something like this this way. Wait a moment."
The hologram disappeared. Oh, great. He wanted to come out and see him. Shake his hand, maybe even hug him.
He came out of the shelter alone.
"My name is Weld." It wasn't his business, he didn't care, but he wondered who Tress was then. "This means more than you think. To me, to us. It's a chance to make the most of our new beginning. Really, thank you very much. I've spent so many nights staring at the ceiling, dreaming about this."
Then, as expected, Weld extended his hand to shake.
Sam didn't react. He didn't move an inch.
He didn't even look at his hand.
Slowly, after a while, Weld's expression changed. It darkened.
"I see. Still, I'm really grateful. You've changed our lives."
Weld turned his back and returned to the shelter. Sam breathed more easily when the door closed.
Now he would be alone (well, with BB, though it was practically the same) on his way back, which was a relief in itself for him.
The return journey should be easier. He took a Reverse Trike that some other porter had left to help his fellow porters at a nearby postbox. He had also come by motorcycle, but the Timefall had wrecked it before he could find shelter. So he had left it lying around and continued on foot.
When he got home, he would rest from the journey, but this was a way to rest from what had happened with Weld.
"I prefer you, BB. You're much quieter, buddy."
BB laughed, spinning around in the fluid of his capsule.
Sam suppressed the smile threatening to bloom on his face.
He couldn't help but think. His mother, his sister. Die-Hardman. They all insisted on the importance of reconnecting humanity.
What would happen then with people like Tress, who didn't even have a human body?
No hand to extend or touch.
Weld left the delivery on the kitchen table.
"Really?"
And the same went for her, of course.
He didn't want to be laughed at for being too sentimental, but he felt they were basically the perfect couple. So, even as Sveta wrapped her tentacles around his body, he knew she would notice. He resigned himself to the conversation they would have to have, though all he wanted was to forget about that jerk as soon as possible and share this special moment with Sveta.
"Did something happen, Weld? Aren't you happy?"
"Of course I'm happy. This is the happiest day of my life."
"But?"
Sveta did it because she cared, he thought. Don't be an idiot.
Weld sighed.
"The porter who made this delivery. He just refused to shake my hand."
"Oh, well. I've heard it's very common among porters. You know, because of the BTs."
How optimistic. Something he admired about her, that she could be optimistic despite everything they had done to them, everything they had lost, and that's not even counting the end of the world.
He understood what she meant. He had seen too many corpses covered in those black handprints not to.
However...
"It's not just that. He didn't say a word."
Better to get this over with as soon as possible.
Sveta didn't say anything, but that in itself said a lot. He didn't need to look at her face to know what she was feeling.
"Look, honey, please. Let's not ruin such a special day, forget about that jerk. The important thing is that you're going to have a body. I know it's not perfect, but it's a big step in the right direction."
"You're right, Weld," she replied slowly after a while. "It's just that it bothers me. The world has ended and there are still so many people wasting time and energy hurting others, full of prejudice. What happened should have put things into perspective."
"But we've just returned to normal."
"Yes. More or less."
Sveta's tentacles caressed the box containing the materials that would save her.
"That's true, that's not what matters today. Soon it will be my turn to return to normal."
Of course, she couldn't remember who she was before Cauldron caught her or what her body was like, but yes. That was it.
Soon Sveta would look normal, and he would be the one standing out next to her, a tin man.
And he couldn't be happier.
Artificial.
The umbilical cord digitally covered countless kilometers. The capsule that served as a womb. And a dead mother, stranded between life and death.
Stranded.
She wasn't even his real mother, but the fact was that they had found a womb for BB and it had worked.
Sam got rid of his suit, carefully placing it behind the glass cabin. He got into the shower. The cascade of cold water awakened sensations all over his body. After a long day of work, it made him feel alive. His entire naked body was covered with burnt black handprints. Marks left by the dead on their brief visits to the other side.
He felt pressure in his stomach and pressed the button to deploy the toilet inside the shower. He sat to relieve himself and, fortunately, it flowed without problems.
He didn't pee.
He only did it, of course, after standing up and making the toilet retract into its hole in the wall.
It happened all the time.
Anyway, nowadays, one way or another, you peed in the shower.
With the bracelet called Q-pid on at all times, Sam got out of the shower, dried off, dressed, and collapsed onto the base's bed, completely exhausted. He glanced at BB. It seemed calmer. As expected. He knew the theory, but it was still impressive that from here it was connected to the womb of a mother well enough to have that effect on him.
Sam closed his eyes.
The child and his dead mother, both hanging between life and death, should be able to rest in peace.
He dreamed of the ocean.
The shore was covered with stranded whales that couldn't return to where they belonged.
Of course, he wasn't the only porter working for Bridges, but essentially he was alone in this.
Not that he was complaining. He was a porter because he liked working alone. And because he needed to work.
He took the BB capsule and connected it to himself as the elevator ascended.
Then...
A white, sterile hospital room seen through an orange filter. The broad back of a man doing something with his hands. He couldn't see from his point of view.
It wasn't any orange filter. It was a fluid.
The amniotic fluid of a BB capsule.
The man turned to look at him with a warm smile while still working on something with his hands, out of his line of sight.
"Do you know what day it is today, BB? Today would be a very special day if your mother hadn't... You haven't been born yet, but the more you watch, the better, right?"
Oh.
He showed him the candles in his hand. Two candles, two months? Sam was analyzing the scene as much as he could, though his consciousness also seemed to be sinking into that fluid.
Fading. Drowning.
"Soon it will be time for you to come out into the real world. I promise."
He placed the last candles and lit them with a lighter. Yes, there were more than two.
He brought the cake closer.
"And then we can have a real party."
The rainbow drawn on the cake. Behind his smile and warm eyes, there was bottomless pain, but he was also indescribably happy, as this was his place in the world.
"Well, happy birthday."
The man blew out the candles.
His consciousness too.
What the hell was that?
It wasn't normal. Or was it?
Due to his natural inclination as a person, before the elevator finished its ascent, he decided not to ask anyone anything. Not to seek an explanation or a solution. Maybe it was an isolated incident, another oddity of the BTs and the Beach.
If he was wrong, he would seek to understand what was happening to ensure it wasn't or couldn't become a problem. For his peace of mind. But for now, he would save himself another long-winded explanation from Deadman.
People assumed he was good at listening just because he never had much to say.
Nothing could be further from the truth, of course.
Sam approached the terminal. Satisfied with his supplies, he didn't build more tools; instead, he went straight to the delivery list. Four. His eyes scanned the map while his mind plotted the optimal route.
He chose the first delivery based on that optimal route, designed to allow him to make all four deliveries in a single day.
The strangely vivid vision was feeling more distant by the moment, replaced by the monotonous reality of work. Like footprints in the sand of the beach being erased by the tide or simply by the next person to pass by. Whichever came first.
He had the bike he had procured yesterday sent up through the elevator in the center of the room, the only one there was for everything and everyone.
Of course, he made sure to charge its battery at a charging station right next to the entrance before setting off.
He liked walking or running. Feeling the earth and grass under his boots, but it was the most efficient.
Halfway to the first delivery, things naturally went wrong before he could realize it. The sound of something cutting through the air. A crackling. Next thing he knew, he lost control of the bike.
The bike fell, sliding noisily through the grass. Sparks flew high.
Sam, of course, didn't last more than a few seconds. He fell off the bike, rolling. He didn't lose his tools, he didn't lose the cargo, just the air in his lungs. Suddenly.
The crackle of electricity. Sam lifted his head, growling, and confirmed what he already knew. The bike had been disabled by a spear. They hadn't hit his vehicle; it was stuck in the ground, but the discharge had caught him fully as he passed.
Mules, he thought.
He hadn't come across one of those camps or his first warning had been the pulse of the scanner, designed to detect cargo and only cargo, extending to him.
They had simply gone hunting and he had the bad luck of being the first one they encountered.
The story of my life, he thought.
The baby... That is, the BB was crying again.
The BB is just a tool. You really shouldn't get attached to your BB. Think of it as a flashlight in a dark room.
I know. There's no need to tell me.
Sam gritted his teeth and the BB pod. He ran into the forest, hoping to lose them among the underbrush and trees, while the squad of mules descended the hill behind him, growling and howling, waving their spears high like prehistoric hunters.
A horde of faceless animals whose only goal in life was to steal the cargo and collect it in their camps. There was nothing else, no greater purpose. They were nothing more than porters without cargo to carry, looking for it themselves.
That's why they wouldn't kill him on purpose. In the worst case, the only thing they were interested in was the cargo, so there was the option of giving up. Letting it go.
However, no.
He didn't want to fail.
Failing was the same as death for a man who couldn't die. And if this kid doesn't shut up, they'll catch me very soon.
He detached the pod and rocked it to try to calm it, a lullaby starting to play immediately. If it didn't shut up now, they would find him soon, no matter how well he hid. No matter how many trees and underbrush there were to confuse the eye.
He couldn't help but remember his mother, Bridget, in that hospital bed in the middle of the Oval Office. Eaten away by cancer, begging him to believe in the future. It wasn't that simple, but he owed a lot to that woman. Without her, he wouldn't have a family. He wouldn't have anything.
So...
He couldn't fail.
Besides, there was a kind of professional pride that always surprised him, as he tried to think of his job as nothing more than a task. He wasn't superhuman, he wasn't infallible, he had screwed up on one or two deliveries. But the important thing was that he didn't want to screw up just because. Because this was what he had chosen to dedicate his life to, period.
The BB stopped crying, thank heavens. He turned off the music.
"I'll get you out of this soon, buddy. So do me a favor and stay quiet, okay?"
The BB looked back at him.
God, it wasn't even out of the womb yet and sometimes it almost seemed to understand him. Well, it never would be. They had made that very clear. Maximum one year working together, the useful life of any BB.
It's not the time to think about those things, about anything. And it's, well, normal. Nothing out of the ordinary.
"He must be around here!"
"Spread out in the area!"
If they had found him near a camp, hiding would be much more complicated due to the cargo scanner. In reality, he had been lucky. Sam continued through the forest with his heavy load, crouching.
"He can't be far!"
All his senses were focused on getting out of this. Attentive to every sound, every blade of grass that moved, every step. He was forming a map in his head of his position relative to the enemies'. It wasn't perfect. It couldn't be, but it was something.
Just before leaving the forest, he had the bad luck of almost bumping into one of the Mules.
Sam acted quickly.
Before he could shout to warn his companions and those savages pounced on him, he subdued him and tied him up with a rope.
It had been close.
No, it was still close. He had to hurry or having succeeded wouldn't do him much good. Someone must have heard...
"What was that?"
The panting, the punches.
Sam left the forest and soon reached a river that divided the land in two like a great crack. He scanned the terrain with the Odradrek to know the depth, if he could cross on foot. He could. It wasn't entirely safe, but he could do it.
He tried to cross the river. The water soon reached his waist.
He received a notification: BB stress level increasing.
Yes, I noticed, he thought.
He lived in amniotic fluid, but that didn't mean he would like his pod to be submerged in water.
"Sorry, it's just a moment, okay?" Sam said, doing what he could to put on a reassuring tone.
If he started crying now. If the Mules spotted him from the forest.
Well, he was waist-deep in water and the Mules carried electric spears. While they didn't intend to kill because their only goal was the cargo and out of fear, that didn't mean they never went too far. Between exposure to chiralium and life in general, they were all out of their minds, after all. Well, they had been even before the Death Stranding. And things had only gotten worse since then. For everyone.
But he reached the other side and there were no more problems, although the current almost dragged him downstream two or three times because he was carrying such a load (and he would surely have lost it, of course, as soon as he fell).
Shortly after, he took a misstep and stumbled forward. He managed to regain his balance with difficulty. And then...
BB laughed.
"Very funny, buddy. Very funny."
Sam allowed himself a brief smile.
Without his consent, his mind's eye drew the image of that older man with the cake in his hands, blowing out the candles.
For some reason.
He was curious whether the man was real or part of a strange and out-of-place hallucination, but he didn't care what that experience had been as long as it didn't become a problem.
Sam decided to sit at the top of the hill and detach BB from his suit, causing the capsule to shut down. That way, the little one could sleep too. And he would avoid the possibility of experiencing another dream, hallucination, or whatever it was, some kind of vision he didn't want to have anything to do with.
Sam wasn't a scientist. He didn't understand the theory (though they relied too much on technology that even the scientists didn't fully understand), but you didn't have to be a genius to realize that the cause had been connecting to BB.
So, this was better.
This way, he hoped, he could rest. Not too much, it was dangerous. But a little nap before resuming the journey. There was nothing wrong with that.
Sam Porter Bridges fell asleep sitting, with BB's capsule hugged against his chest.
And there were no problems in the meantime. No Mules, no BTs. The world had left him and the baby in peace, even if only for five minutes. Sam stood up slowly and carefully, holding the BB-28 capsule.
How could he not get attached to the baby when Sam had saved its life? And then the BB had repaid him, in a way, by helping him save his own.
It was something dangerous, he knew, but...
Sam sighed.
He reconnected the BB to his suit, to himself. He felt different every time he did it. More... Well, more human.
"It's time to get moving, buddy. Another long day of work awaits us."
The BB laughed as if it understood what he was saying.
Sam resumed his march.
Feeling light, a little faster. It didn't take long to find a significant obstacle in his route. A stone wall with few possible alternative routes. He didn't want to go around, wasting too much time just to. Sam was about to take a ladder out of his backpack when he realized there was a climbing anchor undoubtedly left by another porter.
He grabbed the thirteen-meter-long rope and climbed slowly up the steep wall.
He felt satisfied when he reached the top, simply, when he hadn't even made the first delivery yet.
Sam reflected a bit. He hadn't held his mother's hand on her deathbed, but he would grab and grab the ropes extended towards him without thinking twice. It was a somewhat twisted way of thinking, but this kind of connection suited him. This way he could take advantage of the help offered by others without having to endure them in front of him and follow their lead in games for which he was not equipped from birth for the sake of obtaining rewards of dubious importance and even more dubious duration (how much easier it was to keep silent and concentrate on the work).
He remembered perfectly, he would always remember, the only time he had really let his guard down. When he had tried.
The end result was a scar burned deeper than any dead man's hand on his skin. But still, it couldn't be said that connecting had been a mistake. All he had left were memories and something like that would scatter even the memories to the four winds. Maybe that was the real reason he had accepted this senseless mission.
"Bridget, you're president of a fucking mess!"
In any case, here he was. Should he worry about what moved his gears or the fact that he was at the mercy of his movements? Self-examination, psychology, that had been a thing of...
Sam bit his lower lip.
He increased the pace.
After a while, he stopped in the middle of the field, unzipped his fly, and decided to fertilize the grass. Too many cans of Monster Energy just starting the day, he supposed.
"I hope no one is watching this," he muttered, not really worried, as the stream flowed. One of life's little pleasures was holding it in until you were about to burst and then letting it all out energetically. Once the matter was resolved, he zipped up and continued with his work.
When he had to cross another river, with no bridges or anything else to help in sight, that's when things went wrong. It was of adequate depth, but between the fatigue and the weight of the cargo, he finally made a mistake and was swept away by the current. Moreover, the packages he was supposed to deliver were drifting away at breakneck speed.
Sam got up as quickly as he could and waded in search of the lost cargo. He had tied everything well, it wasn't his fault that it had come loose, and letting the river's current take him was a regrettable mistake, but it could happen to anyone, delicate balances broke all the time by nature.
Even so, it would be a shame to lose the cargo this way. That was his main motivation and not that what was floating away from him were urgent medicines for someone. Among other things, because he had taken the cargo from the shipments. But well, that was the most notable.
He vaguely realized that BB hadn't started crying. That surprised him. He didn't like water. But he wasn't going to complain about pleasant surprises either.
"I'll give you a reward when we're done for today, okay champ?"
What nonsense. He couldn't even think of what to give him. Anyway, if they were just words, they didn't hurt anyone.
Sam ran along the river, his boots stirring the grass and dirt, until he reached the level of the cargo and dived back in. He collected them and placed them where they should be, although he only managed to recover all the cargo because some boxes got stuck against the rocks like pieces of driftwood.
"That was close. What a shame it would have been to fail like that."
Sam tried to cross the river again, taking a risk, but managed to cross it without any problems this time. Just as it should have been from the beginning. He didn't know how he had messed up.
It was something that could have happened to anyone, he didn't have to throw his hands up in despair, but he didn't understand. He shook his head.
He supposed he was simply disoriented by everything that had happened lately.
He had always been clear about his place in the world, but now his role was very different, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that deep down nothing had changed, that since he was there he could make deliveries for this and that, what did it matter, if what mattered in the end was that he couldn't stop just like the Mules.
He couldn't stop. He didn't know any other way to live.
And it was too late to look for shit. He was already tired of looking. He knew his place in the world, for better or worse.
"Thank you." The woman coughed hard several times. "The package is in perfect condition."
And that was even though it had almost been lost. Well, it had only taken a hit, after all, it hadn't been that bad, despite the scare he had gotten.
"You're Sam Bridges, right? I've heard a lot about you."
"Oh, great." When Scion went crazy, I thought I could hold out. But the Death Stranding caught us all off guard, so I fled. I hid. I thought that was a kind of strength, that I didn't need anyone. But I've had a hell of a week, barely able to get out of bed. If you hadn't come, I would have died miserably. And completely alone. Now I understand. Human beings need others. Yes, I will join the UCA. Please, connect me."
Sam said nothing, as usual, although he kept his gaze fixed on her the whole time, playing the role of a good listener. When the woman finished, he nodded, and the hologram disappeared. Sam grabbed the Q-pid, taking it off his neck and bringing it close to the terminal. The device began to float and started up.
He wasn't the only one. His feet were also lifted a few centimeters off the ground. The first time, he had been very surprised, as no one had bothered to warn him about it. Nowadays, it was just part of his new routine. They almost looked like dog tags of fallen soldiers, floating in the middle of that blue energy storm. When the process was over, his feet returned to the ground. It was like an omen. You could only believe in the dream that the UCA represented without having your feet on the ground and your head in the clouds. Or simply out of fear of death.
The woman, whose name was Summer (though it didn't matter), had had a sudden epiphany on the brink of death. She had needed help, they had given it to her, and now she felt indebted to them. She felt she had to make a change in her life as if that way she could avoid falling gravely ill again. Her sudden desire to connect with other people wouldn't last. It was based only on fear, and fear was temporary, like any other feeling. Sam wasn't sure if people could or should change in the first place, but one thing he was sure of. Even assuming it was possible, it would only be with more solid foundations. Fear led to nothing good.
He didn't blame her. Being a repatriate, he couldn't share Amelie's fear of death. But he understood it. Anyone could understand such things, even if they hadn't experienced them in their own flesh. He doubted anyone would call him empathetic, but what other word was there?
"Sam." There was Die-Hardman, of course. "Another one joins the UCA. Step by step, we can reconnect America. Remember why you're doing this."
"For Amelie. Yes, you don't need to remind me."
"I'm glad to hear that. As the chiral network expands, you'll be able to see and use the structures that other porters have built in the area. It should make the deliveries you have left for today easier. Good job, Sam. Keep it up."
The connection was cut. Did he like talking to him or something? He had contacted him just to tell him things he already knew. But he preferred to let him chatter rather than pick a fight by telling him to shut up already. Sam was that kind of person. He always had been. Can something be forever? Strange question for a man who couldn't die.
In any case, Sam emerged from the shelter. He felt tired even though he had just started, but it wasn't a bad thing, as it wasn't physical fatigue. On a hill near the shelter, he found one of the constructions that was part of the Strand Social System that Bridges was so proud of. It was a zipline. He still didn't have the resources or the blueprint necessary for the device to build it in the first place. Consequence of turning his back on Bridges, and the advances made since then, of course, that too. Now he had to start almost from scratch. Step by step, like everything, he told himself, approaching the zipline. He could see how far it would go and, most importantly, that it suited the route he had planned.
He grabbed the zipline. The device lifted him a couple of meters, and when he was ready, Sam activated it. He shot off. He would cross several kilometers at breakneck speed. If they could, of course, they would cover the country with these objects, thus being able to reach anywhere in the blink of an eye. But it wasn't that easy. Of course, nothing was ever that easy. Everything tended towards destruction. For example, taking care of a plant required careful attention. To destroy it, to see it wither, you just had to stop watering it. What required the least effort always triumphed at the end of the day.
Sam understood that life was a race against death that was nipping at your heels. In every sense. While crossing the zipline, hoping not to fall and have to go through the trouble of repatriating again, he observed one of the wounds in the world left by the Gold Morning.
The scars of the Death Stranding could be subtle, but they were everywhere. The ones from the Gold Morning, on the other hand, usually stood out. Broken pieces of a mountain, suspended in the air, frozen in time. Forever. One of the many attempts to do something to the being called Scion that surely hadn't even served any purpose. At most, it could now serve as a tourist attraction for those idle enough to stare at something like that. Maybe wondering what exactly had happened during the fight. Who had lived, who had died, and how.
He reached the end of the zipline. He landed, bending his knees. Sam started running, maintaining a sustainable pace; if he ran at full strength, he would burn out soon and wouldn't be able to do everything he intended. He hoped, probably in vain, that there wouldn't be more complications during the remaining deliveries. Only one of the two left was a regular customer. Ideally, he would stop fooling around and agree to join the chiral network, seeing that only they could offer the help they so desperately needed.
About two hours later, he encountered another BT zone, as indicated by the Odradek and the danger signal floating in his interface; another porter had had an encounter with the BTs and had planted the signal to warn others. As he said before, he understood the advantages of the system. He didn't mind this kind of connection and cooperation. As long as it didn't have to be direct cooperation, it suited Sam perfectly.
Sam pondered whether he should heed the warning and go around the area, looking for alternative routes, or take what was always the fastest way between two points, that is, a straight line.
It didn't take long to decide that no matter how many headaches he would avoid, it wouldn't be worth losing so much time; he wouldn't be able to meet his daily goals if he took that detour. Breathing deeply, holding his breath, he entered the zone of those creatures.
Sam had a level two of DOOMS. This meant he could always feel them around him, see the handprints they left in their wake, but not perceive them in their entirety. Only the connection with the BB allowed him to see them floating when he stopped. Which made him dependent on the BB to some extent. If it got too agitated and started suffering from autotoxemia, Sam would be blind again. So this was risky. But although he could avoid this area, that wasn't an exception, not the rule. In a way, it was better to dive in without fear and try to swim. It was the only way he could get stronger. Improve at his job.
Sam advanced crouched, very carefully, stopping occasionally to let the silhouettes of the BTs appear among the trees and rocks. Nothing had to happen. He was disoriented, he had messed up in the river, and the BTs had detected him yesterday, although he had managed to escape by the skin of his teeth. That didn't mean he was going to mess up again. He had done this more times than he could count. He had plenty of experience.
Screw-ups were the exception, not the rule, or he would have left this job long ago, essentially immortal or not. Dying was temporary. But it was fucking painful. Besides, being a repatriate wasn't so bad, he thought. The dead couldn't rest in peace either. They were surrounding and searching for him right now, after all. They didn't know he was here, but all the dead naturally resented the living. They wanted to drag the whole world with them. Maybe then we'll have peace, he thought, but immediately rejected that strange thought, disgusted. He didn't understand how it had even crossed his mind. It didn't fit with anything. If he could choose to die, maybe he would, but that... No. Never.
Sam stopped abruptly. The BT was too close. He put a hand to his mouth, holding his breath. The BB, of course, was calm in its capsule. It wouldn't get agitated unless Sam let himself be detected. Of course. If it were otherwise, he wouldn't have even thought about trying to cross the BT zone, and the BB would be of no use to him.
The BT passed by. Close, very close, leaving proof of its passage on the ground. Black handprints of that tar-like substance from another world. But the fact is, it passed. Sam exhaled in relief. That was all. He managed to get out of the BT zone without screwing up.
Sam stood up. He took a deep breath. It was a rather small victory; he wasn't going to pat himself on the back for it. The third shelter, that is, the third delivery. He was making good time. At this rate, he would have the afternoon free, which was nice, although he wouldn't use it for anything special. He had exactly one hobby, but collecting figures, not playing with them. And less knowing that they could see him doing it at any moment. Well, in any case, it helped to think that way. No matter how enormous the task was, it seemed possible if you focused on the constituent steps. If he thought too much about the scale of the task his mother had condemned him to before exhaling her last breath, reconnecting America, essentially rebuilding the country with his own hands, he would put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. Metaphorically, of course.
He found a group of humans climbing the hill. Some dressed like normal people, some in costumes. From the theme of those costumes, Sam suspected they were members of The Fallen. If that was the case, what were they doing here, in the middle of nowhere? In any case, it couldn't be good. All that amnesty stuff hadn't stopped them from looking for trouble. Not even Necrosis, although that at least had reduced the chances of problems being solved by killing.
In any case, better that they didn't see him. Sam wasn't really good in a direct fight. Throwing a few punches at the Mules, who weren't fighters either, didn't mean anything.
Not to mention the parahumans that could be there (they might not be parahumans, no matter how they were dressed), each with unknown powers to him. Yes. It wasn't worth it. Sam looked for a hiding place and accepted the time he would lose letting them pass. The five people were talking about something. They were far enough away that he couldn't hear the conversation, but that didn't mean it was a safe distance at all. Even so, for the same reason, the Fallen shouldn't be able to see him.
"Oh, what do we have here?"
And they didn't see him. He was yanked from his hiding place and stood floating in front of the parahuman who had grabbed him, a Fallen with armor that seemed to be made of whatever he had found in some dumpster, vaguely reminiscent of Behemoth if you squinted. That is, very spiky and with red touches that the guy hoped would remind one of the magma of that monster, he supposed. In any case...
"Wow, a BB. You don't see this every day."
While the other four laughed, this guy extended his hands towards the BB capsule, who was curled up in the amniotic fluid. Sam's attempts to resist had been unsuccessful, but all had been intended to harm the Fallen.
However, he had no major problems pulling out a knife.
Because what he did was cut his own throat without thinking twice.
Sam's soul sank into the space between the Beach and the world of the living. Between the real world and the world of the dead, that is, the connecting thread. He wasn't the only one floating in those dense and dark waters. Everywhere he looked, he saw others like him. Repatriates simply taking a temporary rest.
It could be seen at a glance, after all.
The umbilical cords that still connected each of them to life. The repatriates were beings that were not made to live in the world of the surface, but were also rejected by death.
Just like the BB.
Trapped in a false maternal womb, they could neither die nor live.
But that didn't mean it was unimportant.
That didn't mean there wasn't something worth fighting for.
Sam's soul followed the thread to the world of the surface. It flew through the dark waters as if nothing could stop him.
Back to where he belonged.
Through the throat.
His throat. In the depths, he saw a baby. It smiled at him, its eyes shining happily, as it sucked its thumb and then took it out of its mouth.
It was as if it was saying goodbye, or perhaps...
"Fuck!"
Everyone was impressed, but not scared.
"That was impressive, I have to admit, but what do you think it will get you? You freed yourself from my control for a moment, okay, nothing has changed. Nothing."
The worst part was that he was right, of course. He had repatriated a bit further than the place of his death, as always, but the added distance meant nothing to someone with the power of that Fallen. He had been further away when he caught him the first time, after all.
He raised his right hand once more.
Sam couldn't do anything to resist.
He floated in front of him in a position as if he had been crucified. To make it harder for him to reach the knife or any other tool.
"I don't know what kind of power you have, but I doubt it works on the BB," said the damned son of a bitch who was apparently the leader of this small group, the highest-ranking bastard, as he was taking command at every step. "So I'll take it out of the capsule, okay? And I'll smash its head against the rocks. I'll be doing the world a fucking favor, even if it's just to silence that damn crying."
Sam gritted his teeth.
He couldn't let these bastards do anything to the child. Yes, the BB was crying. Who wouldn't? Like any baby, it couldn't defend itself, it could only cry for help. And Sam was the only one who could protect it.
It seemed like a desperate situation. Apart from the power that was trapping him, he had another that had allowed him to detect him in the first place. He hadn't done it with his normal eyes and ears. That was clear. He couldn't fight, he couldn't hide, what could he do?
Grabbing the knife to cut his throat had been easy because he hadn't intended to harm the Fallen.
Would he also let non-lethal weapons pass? Anyway, he didn't want to kill any of these, he didn't feel like transporting five bodies to the nearest incinerator, interrupting normal deliveries for probably two days. Not to mention how dangerous anyone's death was, of course, but Sam had his priorities.
Anyway, he could also simply die, for now, while he devised a plan. The knife was lying in the grass. There was no trace of blood, but there was of the tool he had used to take his life. He couldn't reach it from here no matter how much he stretched his arms. It didn't matter.
That's what teeth were for.
His heart raced as soon as he saw the Fallen put his hands on the BB's capsule. The idiot had no idea how to detach it, but sooner or later he would figure it out.
Sam bit his tongue before the Fallen managed, quickly committing suicide.
Not as fast as his return to those murky waters, of course. With no apparent transition. Because in the meantime, he had been dead.
He followed the umbilical cord back to the world of the living.
He still didn't have a plan, but if he took too long, they would take the BB out of his corpse and it would have been for nothing.
He didn't know why the repatriation process didn't return you exactly to where you had died.
It wasn't the first time it had been useful (sometimes he died from a long fall, returning to the place from where he had fallen instead of the point of impact; sometimes, of course, he did exactly the same, but wishing he had stayed where he was, as he had to die taking the express route down), but it was the first time he took advantage of that mechanism in this way.
"Why are you so stubborn?" the Fallen, instead of using his superpower on him immediately, shook his head as if he had never seen greater stupidity. So Sam, who was no fool, turned around and started running. "Is it really worth dying over and over again, just so we don't take that BB from you? It's a tool for Bridges. What's the matter, have you gotten attached to that thing?"
Sam ignored him and kept running. He looked down at the capsule. It was already changing color. He had done it to save him, but partly it was his fault. Seeing him die twice. Of course, the color was changing. Of course, the capsule was turning red.
"Sam," Die-Hardman's voice.
"I know!"
Autotoxemia.
To hell with the deliveries. He had to get to the Bridges base in this area or any shelter, the first thing he found. He needed to connect the BB or it would die.
Prolonging its painful existence that had an 'expiration date' of a year, at most.
However, damn it...
He didn't want to see it die!
The Fallen's superpower lifted his feet off the ground once more. Sam had been aiming for his original hiding place, a cave where he might lose them, assuming the power depended on his line of sight. But he had always known he wouldn't make it in time.
As he flew backward through the air, with the BB even more agitated...
It started to rain.
Timefall.
Just what he needed.
"Fucking hell, when I catch the precog who said it wouldn't rain today!" A Fallen shouted, writhing on his knees on the ground.
His hands, extended pleadingly towards the skies, were already those of an old man. Sam's helmet had activated, protecting his head. He wore gloves so the rain wouldn't affect his hands, and the BB had nothing to worry about in the capsule.
They let him go.
They let him go and ran, seeking shelter from the relentless rain.
While the Fallen accelerated towards old age and death, the inconsolable cry of a baby that had not yet been born, that could never be born, rose into the air.
"Fuck you, bastards."
But they didn't get very far.
Not because they died of old age. Because the BTs appeared too, accompanying the rain.
And on top of that, they were stupid enough to try to fight them. No parahuman, no matter how strong, could defeat a BT. One of the Catchers emerged immediately from the dark sea of tar, roaring and shaking the earth.
"Run, for fuck's sake!"
They deserved what happened to them, but this didn't just affect them. Still, he shouted the warning as he tried to escape the area before the inevitable happened.
The BT ate one of them and a Voidout occurred.
An explosion that killed the Fallen and him, once again.
Sam returned to the world of the living lying on the ground, near the crater.
What a day, he thought. What a fucking day.
He touched the BB's capsule with one hand. He had returned with it, intact. But not out of danger. He was still suffering from autotoxemia. He was still in danger of death.
"Sam, the cargo can't be far," Die-Hardman contacted him again.
He stood on trembling legs, trying to control his breathing. But, as always, he vomited violently, doubling over. That was the only thing the Voidout had scattered. His cargo. It wouldn't be in very good condition, but...
Whatever. He would finish the third delivery and return to that place.
To connect the BB.
The destruction had changed the area completely. Around him, pieces of stone and earth flew towards the skies from the crater. Everywhere he looked, there were fish. Yes. Dead fish, as if they had drowned on the shore of the sea. To the point that it was impossible to walk without stepping on one.
He staggered around, working as quickly as he could to gather the lost cargo, returning it to his back.
Of course, not directly on his back, but on the cargo structure. Otherwise, regularly carrying between eighty and a hundred kilos, his spine would already be mush.
He approached the shelter, skirting the crater created by the Void. Not because it was too dangerous to enter. Although it certainly would be if he could do that. Yes, he was forced to go around the crater because it was impassable. That area was blocked. The wall wasn't entirely invisible; he could see that dark energy because he had DOOMS.
He placed the cargo on the belt. The hologram of the man appeared over the terminal.
"It could have arrived in better condition, but at least it made it," he said. "Thank you. I..."
Next time I'll make sure to predict the future, he thought.
"Do you want to join the UAC or not?"
"Yes." He frowned. "Connect me, ple–"
Sam hit the terminal again, making it disappear; he didn't even let him finish. He passed the Q-pid, which had all the necessary programming.
As always, he floated a few centimeters above the ground, surrounded by blue energy while the work was completed. This wasn't good for the BB in her state. Normally it didn't bother her, but now it would surely remind her of what they had just gone through. The BB's crying was probably constant, but Sam had the feeling it was getting louder. More heartbreaking and desperate.
But the worst part was when she suddenly went silent. She curled up into a ball, and her crying stopped, as did the capsule. The inside of the capsule was stained with an ominous black.
He knew this could happen, but...
He contacted the person to whom this shelter belonged again.
"If you have a Reverse Trike, lend it to me. I need it. I'll return it in perfect condition," he promised.
Practically begging.
His hands were trembling.
It turned out he did have one.
He went down the elevator, and of course, the first thing he did was detach the BB and connect it to the machine. Immediately, the capsule lit up. Sam took a deep breath, relieved. She would be fine now. Deadman would take care of her.
Sam fell headfirst onto the bed, completely exhausted.
Another day at the office, he thought.
He slowly closed his eyes.
BRIDGES: FIN
1
The stars are high in the sky, the wind sings.
Sam took a deep breath, drinking in the atmosphere, and adjusted the BB hanging from his chest before proceeding to descend the hill. The spring grass caressed his ankles as he walked. Occasionally, the Odradek emerged from his shoulder to scan the terrain for obstacles and threats. It told him nothing that his eyes scrutinizing the darkness didn't already know.
"There's no one here except us, damn fools." muttered Sam.
The weight he carried on his back was a reminder of why he was here.
Not for him. If it were up to him, he wouldn't have done a damn thing.
"At least I'm taking my steps."
For better or worse, he couldn't turn back. Complaining every step of the way wouldn't help much. In any case, he was a porter. Delivering shit was what he did, his way of life, even if he had rejected the request, the desires they wanted him to carry, he would end up doing the same thing just for another reason.
Things were as they were.
That's why he didn't believe that reconnecting people would change anything.
That's why he would do it anyway.
Sam kept going, despite the fatigue that overwhelmed him. He hadn't planned the route well. It shouldn't have gotten dark. Anyone could make a mistake, but it was a mistake that could cost him... Well, not his life. For better or worse, not his life.
As if tempting fate, the Odradek went crazy. It was an unmistakable alarm signal. He had entered a BT zone. Thanks to the connection he had with the BB, he could see them. Shadows even deeper floating in the sea of night darkness. Dense and thick like ink, always changing shape.
Sam crouched immediately and as quickly as he could, trying to make no noise, he hid in the hole of a nearby cave.
He pressed his back against the wall, breathing deeply.
Sam put his hands to his mouth when one passed too close, holding his breath.
He endured some very tense moments before the being finally passed by.
But that being, like the others, continued wandering around the area. Looking for someone, anyone, to drag them to hell with them.
I can't go with you, he thought suddenly, maybe due to lack of air.
I'm stranded.
When he saw a clear path, Sam continued, still crouched, walking as quickly as he could considering the necessary caution. A misstep would make all those bastards pounce on him.
He had no choice but to cross the BT territory. There was no way around it, at least with his current equipment. Sam hadn't been given the time to fully familiarize himself with the area either before being sent on this task, but the Odradek, his instinct, and his natural abilities gave him a sufficiently precise idea to assert that.
It was forward or nowhere.
But, apart from not wanting to be caught by BTs again in his life if he could avoid it, the cargo on his back was fragile. He had to be especially careful, or the trip would have been for nothing.
Thanks to the BB, he could see the BTs wandering. This was much easier than usual, needing to send a pulse from the Odradek to detect anything. And that in itself could make them detect him.
There was no reason for anything to go wrong, in summary.
Of course, life didn't need reasons to screw you over. If there was one thing he had learned from life, it was that. So now Sam Porter Bridges was always prepared to be screwed.
He reached a ravine, with the utmost caution. He judged the distance from one side to the other by eye. He didn't need the Odradek for everything.
Sam nodded to himself unconsciously, satisfied, when he concluded that it was short enough to cross. Not in a jump, of course. He wasn't crazy and was carrying a lot of weight. About eighty kilos on his back, and that was just counting what he had to deliver, besides his tools.
Like the ladder he needed now. Sam took it out and unfolded it, placing it to cross the ravine.
Aware that the BTs were still nearby, but also that there was no other choice, Sam took a deep breath, held his breath, and waited for his opportunity. When he thought he had it, Sam took a step forward. His boot stepped on the metal with determination. The ladder trembled.
Naturally, it wasn't very well secured, the important thing was that it didn't fall.
And that those bastards weren't on top of him.
He took another step and then...
Yeah, he had screwed up. He had messed up. Even though he wasn't really in danger, his heart leaped to his throat.
As soon as he heard it. The last thing an endless number of porters heard. An inhuman scream, a chorus of infernal voices. They appeared around him out of nowhere, followed by the tar-like darkness they carried with them. Around him and under his feet. The black hands grabbed him tightly by the legs, pulling him down.
As if that weren't enough, the BB started crying inside its capsule.
It was as real as the BTs, maybe, but it still wasn't pleasant to hear something that seemed like a baby cry.
Sam moved slowly through that tar-like substance, writhing, trying to shake off the ghostly hands dragging him down. And when he managed to shake them off, he felt as good as if he had already escaped. His lungs and mouth expanded to absorb as much air as possible, as if to taste the flavor of freedom.
But of course, the infernal chaos had only just begun.
The fragile rationality that every human had to cling to was collapsing around him. The BTs advanced, spreading their corruption across the terrain. If they caught him, this entire area would turn into a black sea.
Countless worlds had already ended, and anyway, they were on the brink of the beginning again. Misfortunes never came alone. One tragedy paved the way for the next.
At least this was a place in the middle of nowhere, but he didn't want to be the cause of the next tragedy. Therefore, even though he wouldn't die, he had to give it his all.
Sam kept going, gathered strength, and started running. The BB, of course, didn't stop crying. I get it, he thought. I'm scared too, damn it. I'm trying.
He got far.
But not far enough. He couldn't run faster than those creatures, of course.
They didn't need to move in the first place, so running wasn't the right word. He kept fighting with all his strength, staggering out of the tar and running again as soon as his body was able, but in the end, it wasn't enough. There was no other way to cross than the ladder, but it had been a screw-up anyway.
He should have placed a climbing anchor, descended as much as he could, and looked for another route.
But everything seemed clearer when you looked back.
Sam fell into the black sea. The hands were waiting for him.
No, that wasn't true. Too many people preferred to look back nowadays and saw everything distorted. He was a man on a mission, doing all the damn work, because they had chosen to look back.
He was dragged dozens of meters backward at blinding speed.
Yes? Covering the world with cable didn't end wars and suffering. Don't be surprised when everything falls apart if you try to do it again. Over and over; connect, reconnect... it's not that simple!
The black hands let go of him. Of course. Because they were there to Catch. The one who hunted him once he was caught was...
A huge BT, its body all made of dark tentacles. In its head, there was a bright hole that was an eye and a mouth to devour him whole at the same time. The tentacles separated from the body, extending towards their prey. Before, the darkness had only appeared at his feet, to slow him down, to make it harder to take each step. But now it was a true black sea. The entire area was engulfed and unrecognizable. Not a hint of greenery could be seen.
As if they didn't have enough with the end of the worlds, now they had this shit on top.
Sam turned around and started running.
"Calm down, BB. Calm down."
If he got too agitated, things would get even worse.
His legs reached the bottom, reaching the grass submerged in that shit, so maybe calling it a sea was an exaggeration. A bit, but not too much. It reached as far as the eye could see and felt fucking endless.
That thing was on his heels, stirring the black sea, bringing its own waves to it.
That dragged him. That shook him.
Sam Bridges felt like a handful of shipwreck debris at the mercy of the tide.
A car came floating towards him, with enough speed that there was no way to go around it. Sam rolled over the hood of the car to get to the other side, safe and sound, more or less, his ribs hurt but had been hurting for a while simply due to the weight and the pain was just a passing sensation like all other existing sensations.
Sam chose to get into an industrial container that also floated in that dark tide. Of course, the BT could destroy something like that as if it were a toy.
But wait...
Well, he had something like a plan and hoped it would work.
The BT tried to follow him inside, sticking its head in. The headbutt made the rear doors explode open as well, and Sam slipped in, falling, landing again in that black sea.
Now the industrial container hung from the neck of that horrible and huge creature.
He hoped it would slow the creature down for at least a few seconds. Even ten seconds of advantage could mean the difference between escaping and, well, the consequences. For the environment and every living being in this area.
Sam kept running, of course, but couldn't help but look back to check the result of his efforts. Indeed, it was shaking, trying to get rid of the container. The tentacles grabbed the metal, easily bending it, it would soon get rid of it, reducing it to a ball of metal. Very easy. It was the equivalent of a lion feeling annoyed because a needle had stuck in its paw, but that was enough for him.
He didn't have to run much further.
To get out of the BT zone. For the sky to clear, to be able to breathe easy again, in more than one sense, because it wasn't just about fear, the air itself changed in there.
The baby... I mean, the BB was still crying.
"Calm down" said Sam, detaching its capsule to be able to hold it in his arms and shake it slightly. "It's all over now."
A lie of three pairs of balls, of course, nothing was over, the real shit hadn't even started, and they would work together for a whole year full of the same dangers. But the important thing here was, obviously, the tone of the words.
He didn't have to rock it for long to make it stop crying.
Good.
He wasn't good at these things.
The delivery place wasn't far, Sam checked the map on his Q-pid, although he didn't need it, things of a porter.
With a bit of luck, he could take a good, long, hot shower and rest soon.
Sam took a deep breath.
Then, he reattached the BB capsule to his suit.
"Let's go" he murmured, his voice barely audible.
2
Sam reached the building, felt a great weight lifted off his shoulders, literally, and placed the package on the conveyor belt to be processed and delivered to the customer's hands. As always, a blue hologram of the person in question appeared in the middle of the shelter's entrance when he pressed the button to confirm delivery. However, the customer was not a regular person but entirely made of metal.
A Case 53.
He looked familiar, so Sam assumed he was or had been a famous cape, lucky enough to survive the Golden Morning on the front lines. Because everyone had been on the front lines until the end.
But Sam wasn't really interested in those kinds of things, so he couldn't remember his name, if he had ever known it at all.
It's not like he was the unprofessional type who didn't remember his clients' names. The name under which the order was placed was Tress, and he doubted that was this guy's name. Then again, you never knew.
In any case, he had done his job and would soon be resting as he deserved. Nothing else mattered.
"Thank you very much. The package is practically like new."
He wasn't interested in receiving the client's gratitude either. He was a porter and carried things, end of story. No need to complicate things with personal feelings.
"I... It doesn't feel right talking about something like this this way. Wait a moment."
The hologram disappeared. Oh, great. He wanted to come out and see him. Shake his hand, maybe even hug him.
He came out of the shelter alone.
"My name is Weld." It wasn't his business, he didn't care, but he wondered who Tress was then. "This means more than you think. To me, to us. It's a chance to make the most of our new beginning. Really, thank you very much. I've spent so many nights staring at the ceiling, dreaming about this."
Then, as expected, Weld extended his hand to shake.
Sam didn't react. He didn't move an inch.
He didn't even look at his hand.
Slowly, after a while, Weld's expression changed. It darkened.
"I see. Still, I'm really grateful. You've changed our lives."
Weld turned his back and returned to the shelter. Sam breathed more easily when the door closed.
Now he would be alone (well, with BB, though it was practically the same) on his way back, which was a relief in itself for him.
The return journey should be easier. He took a Reverse Trike that some other porter had left to help his fellow porters at a nearby postbox. He had also come by motorcycle, but the Timefall had wrecked it before he could find shelter. So he had left it lying around and continued on foot.
When he got home, he would rest from the journey, but this was a way to rest from what had happened with Weld.
"I prefer you, BB. You're much quieter, buddy."
BB laughed, spinning around in the fluid of his capsule.
Sam suppressed the smile threatening to bloom on his face.
He couldn't help but think. His mother, his sister. Die-Hardman. They all insisted on the importance of reconnecting humanity.
What would happen then with people like Tress, who didn't even have a human body?
No hand to extend or touch.
3
"Sveta, here it is."
Weld left the delivery on the kitchen table.
"Really?"
And the same went for her, of course.
He didn't want to be laughed at for being too sentimental, but he felt they were basically the perfect couple. So, even as Sveta wrapped her tentacles around his body, he knew she would notice. He resigned himself to the conversation they would have to have, though all he wanted was to forget about that jerk as soon as possible and share this special moment with Sveta.
"Did something happen, Weld? Aren't you happy?"
"Of course I'm happy. This is the happiest day of my life."
"But?"
Sveta did it because she cared, he thought. Don't be an idiot.
Weld sighed.
"The porter who made this delivery. He just refused to shake my hand."
"Oh, well. I've heard it's very common among porters. You know, because of the BTs."
How optimistic. Something he admired about her, that she could be optimistic despite everything they had done to them, everything they had lost, and that's not even counting the end of the world.
He understood what she meant. He had seen too many corpses covered in those black handprints not to.
However...
"It's not just that. He didn't say a word."
Better to get this over with as soon as possible.
Sveta didn't say anything, but that in itself said a lot. He didn't need to look at her face to know what she was feeling.
"Look, honey, please. Let's not ruin such a special day, forget about that jerk. The important thing is that you're going to have a body. I know it's not perfect, but it's a big step in the right direction."
"You're right, Weld," she replied slowly after a while. "It's just that it bothers me. The world has ended and there are still so many people wasting time and energy hurting others, full of prejudice. What happened should have put things into perspective."
"But we've just returned to normal."
"Yes. More or less."
Sveta's tentacles caressed the box containing the materials that would save her.
"That's true, that's not what matters today. Soon it will be my turn to return to normal."
Of course, she couldn't remember who she was before Cauldron caught her or what her body was like, but yes. That was it.
Soon Sveta would look normal, and he would be the one standing out next to her, a tin man.
And he couldn't be happier.
4
Sam arrived at the shelter without further incident. He put the Reverse Trike in the garage and went down to his private room via the elevator. He disconnected BB and connected it to the person it should have been connected to in the first place.
Artificial.
The umbilical cord digitally covered countless kilometers. The capsule that served as a womb. And a dead mother, stranded between life and death.
Stranded.
She wasn't even his real mother, but the fact was that they had found a womb for BB and it had worked.
Sam got rid of his suit, carefully placing it behind the glass cabin. He got into the shower. The cascade of cold water awakened sensations all over his body. After a long day of work, it made him feel alive. His entire naked body was covered with burnt black handprints. Marks left by the dead on their brief visits to the other side.
He felt pressure in his stomach and pressed the button to deploy the toilet inside the shower. He sat to relieve himself and, fortunately, it flowed without problems.
He didn't pee.
He only did it, of course, after standing up and making the toilet retract into its hole in the wall.
It happened all the time.
Anyway, nowadays, one way or another, you peed in the shower.
With the bracelet called Q-pid on at all times, Sam got out of the shower, dried off, dressed, and collapsed onto the base's bed, completely exhausted. He glanced at BB. It seemed calmer. As expected. He knew the theory, but it was still impressive that from here it was connected to the womb of a mother well enough to have that effect on him.
Sam closed his eyes.
The child and his dead mother, both hanging between life and death, should be able to rest in peace.
He dreamed of the ocean.
The shore was covered with stranded whales that couldn't return to where they belonged.
5
Sam woke up, ready for another day full of deliveries. He put on the porter suit, half-listening to Deadman's words. In any case, it boiled down to what he already knew. He had work to do. Alone, though they would provide him with as many tools as he needed to get it done.
Of course, he wasn't the only porter working for Bridges, but essentially he was alone in this.
Not that he was complaining. He was a porter because he liked working alone. And because he needed to work.
He took the BB capsule and connected it to himself as the elevator ascended.
Then...
6
He suddenly found himself in a different place and time.
A white, sterile hospital room seen through an orange filter. The broad back of a man doing something with his hands. He couldn't see from his point of view.
It wasn't any orange filter. It was a fluid.
The amniotic fluid of a BB capsule.
The man turned to look at him with a warm smile while still working on something with his hands, out of his line of sight.
"Do you know what day it is today, BB? Today would be a very special day if your mother hadn't... You haven't been born yet, but the more you watch, the better, right?"
Oh.
He showed him the candles in his hand. Two candles, two months? Sam was analyzing the scene as much as he could, though his consciousness also seemed to be sinking into that fluid.
Fading. Drowning.
"Soon it will be time for you to come out into the real world. I promise."
He placed the last candles and lit them with a lighter. Yes, there were more than two.
He brought the cake closer.
"And then we can have a real party."
The rainbow drawn on the cake. Behind his smile and warm eyes, there was bottomless pain, but he was also indescribably happy, as this was his place in the world.
"Well, happy birthday."
The man blew out the candles.
His consciousness too.
7
Sam returned to the real world disoriented, confused, with his heart in his throat. He wiped the accumulated sweat from his face with his hand.
What the hell was that?
It wasn't normal. Or was it?
Due to his natural inclination as a person, before the elevator finished its ascent, he decided not to ask anyone anything. Not to seek an explanation or a solution. Maybe it was an isolated incident, another oddity of the BTs and the Beach.
If he was wrong, he would seek to understand what was happening to ensure it wasn't or couldn't become a problem. For his peace of mind. But for now, he would save himself another long-winded explanation from Deadman.
People assumed he was good at listening just because he never had much to say.
Nothing could be further from the truth, of course.
Sam approached the terminal. Satisfied with his supplies, he didn't build more tools; instead, he went straight to the delivery list. Four. His eyes scanned the map while his mind plotted the optimal route.
He chose the first delivery based on that optimal route, designed to allow him to make all four deliveries in a single day.
The strangely vivid vision was feeling more distant by the moment, replaced by the monotonous reality of work. Like footprints in the sand of the beach being erased by the tide or simply by the next person to pass by. Whichever came first.
He had the bike he had procured yesterday sent up through the elevator in the center of the room, the only one there was for everything and everyone.
Of course, he made sure to charge its battery at a charging station right next to the entrance before setting off.
He liked walking or running. Feeling the earth and grass under his boots, but it was the most efficient.
Halfway to the first delivery, things naturally went wrong before he could realize it. The sound of something cutting through the air. A crackling. Next thing he knew, he lost control of the bike.
The bike fell, sliding noisily through the grass. Sparks flew high.
Sam, of course, didn't last more than a few seconds. He fell off the bike, rolling. He didn't lose his tools, he didn't lose the cargo, just the air in his lungs. Suddenly.
The crackle of electricity. Sam lifted his head, growling, and confirmed what he already knew. The bike had been disabled by a spear. They hadn't hit his vehicle; it was stuck in the ground, but the discharge had caught him fully as he passed.
Mules, he thought.
He hadn't come across one of those camps or his first warning had been the pulse of the scanner, designed to detect cargo and only cargo, extending to him.
They had simply gone hunting and he had the bad luck of being the first one they encountered.
The story of my life, he thought.
The baby... That is, the BB was crying again.
The BB is just a tool. You really shouldn't get attached to your BB. Think of it as a flashlight in a dark room.
I know. There's no need to tell me.
Sam gritted his teeth and the BB pod. He ran into the forest, hoping to lose them among the underbrush and trees, while the squad of mules descended the hill behind him, growling and howling, waving their spears high like prehistoric hunters.
A horde of faceless animals whose only goal in life was to steal the cargo and collect it in their camps. There was nothing else, no greater purpose. They were nothing more than porters without cargo to carry, looking for it themselves.
That's why they wouldn't kill him on purpose. In the worst case, the only thing they were interested in was the cargo, so there was the option of giving up. Letting it go.
However, no.
He didn't want to fail.
Failing was the same as death for a man who couldn't die. And if this kid doesn't shut up, they'll catch me very soon.
He detached the pod and rocked it to try to calm it, a lullaby starting to play immediately. If it didn't shut up now, they would find him soon, no matter how well he hid. No matter how many trees and underbrush there were to confuse the eye.
He couldn't help but remember his mother, Bridget, in that hospital bed in the middle of the Oval Office. Eaten away by cancer, begging him to believe in the future. It wasn't that simple, but he owed a lot to that woman. Without her, he wouldn't have a family. He wouldn't have anything.
So...
He couldn't fail.
Besides, there was a kind of professional pride that always surprised him, as he tried to think of his job as nothing more than a task. He wasn't superhuman, he wasn't infallible, he had screwed up on one or two deliveries. But the important thing was that he didn't want to screw up just because. Because this was what he had chosen to dedicate his life to, period.
The BB stopped crying, thank heavens. He turned off the music.
"I'll get you out of this soon, buddy. So do me a favor and stay quiet, okay?"
The BB looked back at him.
God, it wasn't even out of the womb yet and sometimes it almost seemed to understand him. Well, it never would be. They had made that very clear. Maximum one year working together, the useful life of any BB.
It's not the time to think about those things, about anything. And it's, well, normal. Nothing out of the ordinary.
"He must be around here!"
"Spread out in the area!"
If they had found him near a camp, hiding would be much more complicated due to the cargo scanner. In reality, he had been lucky. Sam continued through the forest with his heavy load, crouching.
"He can't be far!"
All his senses were focused on getting out of this. Attentive to every sound, every blade of grass that moved, every step. He was forming a map in his head of his position relative to the enemies'. It wasn't perfect. It couldn't be, but it was something.
Just before leaving the forest, he had the bad luck of almost bumping into one of the Mules.
Sam acted quickly.
Before he could shout to warn his companions and those savages pounced on him, he subdued him and tied him up with a rope.
It had been close.
No, it was still close. He had to hurry or having succeeded wouldn't do him much good. Someone must have heard...
"What was that?"
The panting, the punches.
Sam left the forest and soon reached a river that divided the land in two like a great crack. He scanned the terrain with the Odradrek to know the depth, if he could cross on foot. He could. It wasn't entirely safe, but he could do it.
He tried to cross the river. The water soon reached his waist.
He received a notification: BB stress level increasing.
Yes, I noticed, he thought.
He lived in amniotic fluid, but that didn't mean he would like his pod to be submerged in water.
"Sorry, it's just a moment, okay?" Sam said, doing what he could to put on a reassuring tone.
If he started crying now. If the Mules spotted him from the forest.
Well, he was waist-deep in water and the Mules carried electric spears. While they didn't intend to kill because their only goal was the cargo and out of fear, that didn't mean they never went too far. Between exposure to chiralium and life in general, they were all out of their minds, after all. Well, they had been even before the Death Stranding. And things had only gotten worse since then. For everyone.
But he reached the other side and there were no more problems, although the current almost dragged him downstream two or three times because he was carrying such a load (and he would surely have lost it, of course, as soon as he fell).
Shortly after, he took a misstep and stumbled forward. He managed to regain his balance with difficulty. And then...
BB laughed.
"Very funny, buddy. Very funny."
Sam allowed himself a brief smile.
8
He reached the top of the hill. He and BB were alone again. Losing the bike had been a shame, but he should still be able to complete his deliveries. He just needed to approach things differently. He knew he could do it because it was nothing he hadn't done before. He could be proud, but not arrogant. He accurately assessed what he was capable of and was honest with himself.
Without his consent, his mind's eye drew the image of that older man with the cake in his hands, blowing out the candles.
For some reason.
He was curious whether the man was real or part of a strange and out-of-place hallucination, but he didn't care what that experience had been as long as it didn't become a problem.
Sam decided to sit at the top of the hill and detach BB from his suit, causing the capsule to shut down. That way, the little one could sleep too. And he would avoid the possibility of experiencing another dream, hallucination, or whatever it was, some kind of vision he didn't want to have anything to do with.
Sam wasn't a scientist. He didn't understand the theory (though they relied too much on technology that even the scientists didn't fully understand), but you didn't have to be a genius to realize that the cause had been connecting to BB.
So, this was better.
This way, he hoped, he could rest. Not too much, it was dangerous. But a little nap before resuming the journey. There was nothing wrong with that.
Sam Porter Bridges fell asleep sitting, with BB's capsule hugged against his chest.
9
Sam slowly opened his eyes. If he had dreamed anything, he didn't remember it. The Q-pid recorded that his sleep time had been five minutes and twelve seconds. More than he had expected, but nothing more than a nap, after all, it couldn't even be called a siesta because it was so short. The important thing was that he had achieved his goal, he felt rested, no matter how short or long it had been.
And there were no problems in the meantime. No Mules, no BTs. The world had left him and the baby in peace, even if only for five minutes. Sam stood up slowly and carefully, holding the BB-28 capsule.
How could he not get attached to the baby when Sam had saved its life? And then the BB had repaid him, in a way, by helping him save his own.
It was something dangerous, he knew, but...
Sam sighed.
He reconnected the BB to his suit, to himself. He felt different every time he did it. More... Well, more human.
"It's time to get moving, buddy. Another long day of work awaits us."
The BB laughed as if it understood what he was saying.
Sam resumed his march.
Feeling light, a little faster. It didn't take long to find a significant obstacle in his route. A stone wall with few possible alternative routes. He didn't want to go around, wasting too much time just to. Sam was about to take a ladder out of his backpack when he realized there was a climbing anchor undoubtedly left by another porter.
He grabbed the thirteen-meter-long rope and climbed slowly up the steep wall.
He felt satisfied when he reached the top, simply, when he hadn't even made the first delivery yet.
Sam reflected a bit. He hadn't held his mother's hand on her deathbed, but he would grab and grab the ropes extended towards him without thinking twice. It was a somewhat twisted way of thinking, but this kind of connection suited him. This way he could take advantage of the help offered by others without having to endure them in front of him and follow their lead in games for which he was not equipped from birth for the sake of obtaining rewards of dubious importance and even more dubious duration (how much easier it was to keep silent and concentrate on the work).
He remembered perfectly, he would always remember, the only time he had really let his guard down. When he had tried.
The end result was a scar burned deeper than any dead man's hand on his skin. But still, it couldn't be said that connecting had been a mistake. All he had left were memories and something like that would scatter even the memories to the four winds. Maybe that was the real reason he had accepted this senseless mission.
"Bridget, you're president of a fucking mess!"
In any case, here he was. Should he worry about what moved his gears or the fact that he was at the mercy of his movements? Self-examination, psychology, that had been a thing of...
Sam bit his lower lip.
He increased the pace.
After a while, he stopped in the middle of the field, unzipped his fly, and decided to fertilize the grass. Too many cans of Monster Energy just starting the day, he supposed.
"I hope no one is watching this," he muttered, not really worried, as the stream flowed. One of life's little pleasures was holding it in until you were about to burst and then letting it all out energetically. Once the matter was resolved, he zipped up and continued with his work.
When he had to cross another river, with no bridges or anything else to help in sight, that's when things went wrong. It was of adequate depth, but between the fatigue and the weight of the cargo, he finally made a mistake and was swept away by the current. Moreover, the packages he was supposed to deliver were drifting away at breakneck speed.
Sam got up as quickly as he could and waded in search of the lost cargo. He had tied everything well, it wasn't his fault that it had come loose, and letting the river's current take him was a regrettable mistake, but it could happen to anyone, delicate balances broke all the time by nature.
Even so, it would be a shame to lose the cargo this way. That was his main motivation and not that what was floating away from him were urgent medicines for someone. Among other things, because he had taken the cargo from the shipments. But well, that was the most notable.
He vaguely realized that BB hadn't started crying. That surprised him. He didn't like water. But he wasn't going to complain about pleasant surprises either.
"I'll give you a reward when we're done for today, okay champ?"
What nonsense. He couldn't even think of what to give him. Anyway, if they were just words, they didn't hurt anyone.
Sam ran along the river, his boots stirring the grass and dirt, until he reached the level of the cargo and dived back in. He collected them and placed them where they should be, although he only managed to recover all the cargo because some boxes got stuck against the rocks like pieces of driftwood.
"That was close. What a shame it would have been to fail like that."
Sam tried to cross the river again, taking a risk, but managed to cross it without any problems this time. Just as it should have been from the beginning. He didn't know how he had messed up.
It was something that could have happened to anyone, he didn't have to throw his hands up in despair, but he didn't understand. He shook his head.
He supposed he was simply disoriented by everything that had happened lately.
He had always been clear about his place in the world, but now his role was very different, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that deep down nothing had changed, that since he was there he could make deliveries for this and that, what did it matter, if what mattered in the end was that he couldn't stop just like the Mules.
He couldn't stop. He didn't know any other way to live.
And it was too late to look for shit. He was already tired of looking. He knew his place in the world, for better or worse.
10
The same as always. Place the package to be processed and taken inside the shelter. Only now he had to press the button, endure the hologram's chatter, and cross his fingers that they would want to connect to the UCA, because obviously Sam wasn't going to convince them with his great eloquence. The shelter that needed medicine was the first on his route. The hologram that came out to greet him was of a woman. It was obvious at first glance that she was sick. He supposed she wouldn't come out to try to shake his hand as a sign of gratitude that he didn't want.
"Thank you." The woman coughed hard several times. "The package is in perfect condition."
And that was even though it had almost been lost. Well, it had only taken a hit, after all, it hadn't been that bad, despite the scare he had gotten.
"You're Sam Bridges, right? I've heard a lot about you."
"Oh, great." When Scion went crazy, I thought I could hold out. But the Death Stranding caught us all off guard, so I fled. I hid. I thought that was a kind of strength, that I didn't need anyone. But I've had a hell of a week, barely able to get out of bed. If you hadn't come, I would have died miserably. And completely alone. Now I understand. Human beings need others. Yes, I will join the UCA. Please, connect me."
Sam said nothing, as usual, although he kept his gaze fixed on her the whole time, playing the role of a good listener. When the woman finished, he nodded, and the hologram disappeared. Sam grabbed the Q-pid, taking it off his neck and bringing it close to the terminal. The device began to float and started up.
He wasn't the only one. His feet were also lifted a few centimeters off the ground. The first time, he had been very surprised, as no one had bothered to warn him about it. Nowadays, it was just part of his new routine. They almost looked like dog tags of fallen soldiers, floating in the middle of that blue energy storm. When the process was over, his feet returned to the ground. It was like an omen. You could only believe in the dream that the UCA represented without having your feet on the ground and your head in the clouds. Or simply out of fear of death.
The woman, whose name was Summer (though it didn't matter), had had a sudden epiphany on the brink of death. She had needed help, they had given it to her, and now she felt indebted to them. She felt she had to make a change in her life as if that way she could avoid falling gravely ill again. Her sudden desire to connect with other people wouldn't last. It was based only on fear, and fear was temporary, like any other feeling. Sam wasn't sure if people could or should change in the first place, but one thing he was sure of. Even assuming it was possible, it would only be with more solid foundations. Fear led to nothing good.
He didn't blame her. Being a repatriate, he couldn't share Amelie's fear of death. But he understood it. Anyone could understand such things, even if they hadn't experienced them in their own flesh. He doubted anyone would call him empathetic, but what other word was there?
"Sam." There was Die-Hardman, of course. "Another one joins the UCA. Step by step, we can reconnect America. Remember why you're doing this."
"For Amelie. Yes, you don't need to remind me."
"I'm glad to hear that. As the chiral network expands, you'll be able to see and use the structures that other porters have built in the area. It should make the deliveries you have left for today easier. Good job, Sam. Keep it up."
The connection was cut. Did he like talking to him or something? He had contacted him just to tell him things he already knew. But he preferred to let him chatter rather than pick a fight by telling him to shut up already. Sam was that kind of person. He always had been. Can something be forever? Strange question for a man who couldn't die.
In any case, Sam emerged from the shelter. He felt tired even though he had just started, but it wasn't a bad thing, as it wasn't physical fatigue. On a hill near the shelter, he found one of the constructions that was part of the Strand Social System that Bridges was so proud of. It was a zipline. He still didn't have the resources or the blueprint necessary for the device to build it in the first place. Consequence of turning his back on Bridges, and the advances made since then, of course, that too. Now he had to start almost from scratch. Step by step, like everything, he told himself, approaching the zipline. He could see how far it would go and, most importantly, that it suited the route he had planned.
He grabbed the zipline. The device lifted him a couple of meters, and when he was ready, Sam activated it. He shot off. He would cross several kilometers at breakneck speed. If they could, of course, they would cover the country with these objects, thus being able to reach anywhere in the blink of an eye. But it wasn't that easy. Of course, nothing was ever that easy. Everything tended towards destruction. For example, taking care of a plant required careful attention. To destroy it, to see it wither, you just had to stop watering it. What required the least effort always triumphed at the end of the day.
Sam understood that life was a race against death that was nipping at your heels. In every sense. While crossing the zipline, hoping not to fall and have to go through the trouble of repatriating again, he observed one of the wounds in the world left by the Gold Morning.
The scars of the Death Stranding could be subtle, but they were everywhere. The ones from the Gold Morning, on the other hand, usually stood out. Broken pieces of a mountain, suspended in the air, frozen in time. Forever. One of the many attempts to do something to the being called Scion that surely hadn't even served any purpose. At most, it could now serve as a tourist attraction for those idle enough to stare at something like that. Maybe wondering what exactly had happened during the fight. Who had lived, who had died, and how.
He reached the end of the zipline. He landed, bending his knees. Sam started running, maintaining a sustainable pace; if he ran at full strength, he would burn out soon and wouldn't be able to do everything he intended. He hoped, probably in vain, that there wouldn't be more complications during the remaining deliveries. Only one of the two left was a regular customer. Ideally, he would stop fooling around and agree to join the chiral network, seeing that only they could offer the help they so desperately needed.
About two hours later, he encountered another BT zone, as indicated by the Odradek and the danger signal floating in his interface; another porter had had an encounter with the BTs and had planted the signal to warn others. As he said before, he understood the advantages of the system. He didn't mind this kind of connection and cooperation. As long as it didn't have to be direct cooperation, it suited Sam perfectly.
Sam pondered whether he should heed the warning and go around the area, looking for alternative routes, or take what was always the fastest way between two points, that is, a straight line.
It didn't take long to decide that no matter how many headaches he would avoid, it wouldn't be worth losing so much time; he wouldn't be able to meet his daily goals if he took that detour. Breathing deeply, holding his breath, he entered the zone of those creatures.
Sam had a level two of DOOMS. This meant he could always feel them around him, see the handprints they left in their wake, but not perceive them in their entirety. Only the connection with the BB allowed him to see them floating when he stopped. Which made him dependent on the BB to some extent. If it got too agitated and started suffering from autotoxemia, Sam would be blind again. So this was risky. But although he could avoid this area, that wasn't an exception, not the rule. In a way, it was better to dive in without fear and try to swim. It was the only way he could get stronger. Improve at his job.
Sam advanced crouched, very carefully, stopping occasionally to let the silhouettes of the BTs appear among the trees and rocks. Nothing had to happen. He was disoriented, he had messed up in the river, and the BTs had detected him yesterday, although he had managed to escape by the skin of his teeth. That didn't mean he was going to mess up again. He had done this more times than he could count. He had plenty of experience.
Screw-ups were the exception, not the rule, or he would have left this job long ago, essentially immortal or not. Dying was temporary. But it was fucking painful. Besides, being a repatriate wasn't so bad, he thought. The dead couldn't rest in peace either. They were surrounding and searching for him right now, after all. They didn't know he was here, but all the dead naturally resented the living. They wanted to drag the whole world with them. Maybe then we'll have peace, he thought, but immediately rejected that strange thought, disgusted. He didn't understand how it had even crossed his mind. It didn't fit with anything. If he could choose to die, maybe he would, but that... No. Never.
Sam stopped abruptly. The BT was too close. He put a hand to his mouth, holding his breath. The BB, of course, was calm in its capsule. It wouldn't get agitated unless Sam let himself be detected. Of course. If it were otherwise, he wouldn't have even thought about trying to cross the BT zone, and the BB would be of no use to him.
The BT passed by. Close, very close, leaving proof of its passage on the ground. Black handprints of that tar-like substance from another world. But the fact is, it passed. Sam exhaled in relief. That was all. He managed to get out of the BT zone without screwing up.
Sam stood up. He took a deep breath. It was a rather small victory; he wasn't going to pat himself on the back for it. The third shelter, that is, the third delivery. He was making good time. At this rate, he would have the afternoon free, which was nice, although he wouldn't use it for anything special. He had exactly one hobby, but collecting figures, not playing with them. And less knowing that they could see him doing it at any moment. Well, in any case, it helped to think that way. No matter how enormous the task was, it seemed possible if you focused on the constituent steps. If he thought too much about the scale of the task his mother had condemned him to before exhaling her last breath, reconnecting America, essentially rebuilding the country with his own hands, he would put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. Metaphorically, of course.
He found a group of humans climbing the hill. Some dressed like normal people, some in costumes. From the theme of those costumes, Sam suspected they were members of The Fallen. If that was the case, what were they doing here, in the middle of nowhere? In any case, it couldn't be good. All that amnesty stuff hadn't stopped them from looking for trouble. Not even Necrosis, although that at least had reduced the chances of problems being solved by killing.
In any case, better that they didn't see him. Sam wasn't really good in a direct fight. Throwing a few punches at the Mules, who weren't fighters either, didn't mean anything.
Not to mention the parahumans that could be there (they might not be parahumans, no matter how they were dressed), each with unknown powers to him. Yes. It wasn't worth it. Sam looked for a hiding place and accepted the time he would lose letting them pass. The five people were talking about something. They were far enough away that he couldn't hear the conversation, but that didn't mean it was a safe distance at all. Even so, for the same reason, the Fallen shouldn't be able to see him.
"Oh, what do we have here?"
And they didn't see him. He was yanked from his hiding place and stood floating in front of the parahuman who had grabbed him, a Fallen with armor that seemed to be made of whatever he had found in some dumpster, vaguely reminiscent of Behemoth if you squinted. That is, very spiky and with red touches that the guy hoped would remind one of the magma of that monster, he supposed. In any case...
"Wow, a BB. You don't see this every day."
While the other four laughed, this guy extended his hands towards the BB capsule, who was curled up in the amniotic fluid. Sam's attempts to resist had been unsuccessful, but all had been intended to harm the Fallen.
However, he had no major problems pulling out a knife.
Because what he did was cut his own throat without thinking twice.
11
An unfathomable black sea.
Sam's soul sank into the space between the Beach and the world of the living. Between the real world and the world of the dead, that is, the connecting thread. He wasn't the only one floating in those dense and dark waters. Everywhere he looked, he saw others like him. Repatriates simply taking a temporary rest.
It could be seen at a glance, after all.
The umbilical cords that still connected each of them to life. The repatriates were beings that were not made to live in the world of the surface, but were also rejected by death.
Just like the BB.
Trapped in a false maternal womb, they could neither die nor live.
But that didn't mean it was unimportant.
That didn't mean there wasn't something worth fighting for.
Sam's soul followed the thread to the world of the surface. It flew through the dark waters as if nothing could stop him.
Back to where he belonged.
Through the throat.
His throat. In the depths, he saw a baby. It smiled at him, its eyes shining happily, as it sucked its thumb and then took it out of its mouth.
It was as if it was saying goodbye, or perhaps...
12
Sam came back to life, standing on trembling legs, vomiting. It wasn't the most pleasant way to, rather, be reborn, but here he was.
"Fuck!"
Everyone was impressed, but not scared.
"That was impressive, I have to admit, but what do you think it will get you? You freed yourself from my control for a moment, okay, nothing has changed. Nothing."
The worst part was that he was right, of course. He had repatriated a bit further than the place of his death, as always, but the added distance meant nothing to someone with the power of that Fallen. He had been further away when he caught him the first time, after all.
He raised his right hand once more.
Sam couldn't do anything to resist.
He floated in front of him in a position as if he had been crucified. To make it harder for him to reach the knife or any other tool.
"I don't know what kind of power you have, but I doubt it works on the BB," said the damned son of a bitch who was apparently the leader of this small group, the highest-ranking bastard, as he was taking command at every step. "So I'll take it out of the capsule, okay? And I'll smash its head against the rocks. I'll be doing the world a fucking favor, even if it's just to silence that damn crying."
Sam gritted his teeth.
He couldn't let these bastards do anything to the child. Yes, the BB was crying. Who wouldn't? Like any baby, it couldn't defend itself, it could only cry for help. And Sam was the only one who could protect it.
It seemed like a desperate situation. Apart from the power that was trapping him, he had another that had allowed him to detect him in the first place. He hadn't done it with his normal eyes and ears. That was clear. He couldn't fight, he couldn't hide, what could he do?
Grabbing the knife to cut his throat had been easy because he hadn't intended to harm the Fallen.
Would he also let non-lethal weapons pass? Anyway, he didn't want to kill any of these, he didn't feel like transporting five bodies to the nearest incinerator, interrupting normal deliveries for probably two days. Not to mention how dangerous anyone's death was, of course, but Sam had his priorities.
Anyway, he could also simply die, for now, while he devised a plan. The knife was lying in the grass. There was no trace of blood, but there was of the tool he had used to take his life. He couldn't reach it from here no matter how much he stretched his arms. It didn't matter.
That's what teeth were for.
His heart raced as soon as he saw the Fallen put his hands on the BB's capsule. The idiot had no idea how to detach it, but sooner or later he would figure it out.
Sam bit his tongue before the Fallen managed, quickly committing suicide.
Not as fast as his return to those murky waters, of course. With no apparent transition. Because in the meantime, he had been dead.
He followed the umbilical cord back to the world of the living.
He still didn't have a plan, but if he took too long, they would take the BB out of his corpse and it would have been for nothing.
He didn't know why the repatriation process didn't return you exactly to where you had died.
It wasn't the first time it had been useful (sometimes he died from a long fall, returning to the place from where he had fallen instead of the point of impact; sometimes, of course, he did exactly the same, but wishing he had stayed where he was, as he had to die taking the express route down), but it was the first time he took advantage of that mechanism in this way.
"Why are you so stubborn?" the Fallen, instead of using his superpower on him immediately, shook his head as if he had never seen greater stupidity. So Sam, who was no fool, turned around and started running. "Is it really worth dying over and over again, just so we don't take that BB from you? It's a tool for Bridges. What's the matter, have you gotten attached to that thing?"
Sam ignored him and kept running. He looked down at the capsule. It was already changing color. He had done it to save him, but partly it was his fault. Seeing him die twice. Of course, the color was changing. Of course, the capsule was turning red.
"Sam," Die-Hardman's voice.
"I know!"
Autotoxemia.
To hell with the deliveries. He had to get to the Bridges base in this area or any shelter, the first thing he found. He needed to connect the BB or it would die.
Prolonging its painful existence that had an 'expiration date' of a year, at most.
However, damn it...
He didn't want to see it die!
The Fallen's superpower lifted his feet off the ground once more. Sam had been aiming for his original hiding place, a cave where he might lose them, assuming the power depended on his line of sight. But he had always known he wouldn't make it in time.
As he flew backward through the air, with the BB even more agitated...
It started to rain.
Timefall.
Just what he needed.
"Fucking hell, when I catch the precog who said it wouldn't rain today!" A Fallen shouted, writhing on his knees on the ground.
His hands, extended pleadingly towards the skies, were already those of an old man. Sam's helmet had activated, protecting his head. He wore gloves so the rain wouldn't affect his hands, and the BB had nothing to worry about in the capsule.
They let him go.
They let him go and ran, seeking shelter from the relentless rain.
While the Fallen accelerated towards old age and death, the inconsolable cry of a baby that had not yet been born, that could never be born, rose into the air.
"Fuck you, bastards."
But they didn't get very far.
Not because they died of old age. Because the BTs appeared too, accompanying the rain.
And on top of that, they were stupid enough to try to fight them. No parahuman, no matter how strong, could defeat a BT. One of the Catchers emerged immediately from the dark sea of tar, roaring and shaking the earth.
"Run, for fuck's sake!"
They deserved what happened to them, but this didn't just affect them. Still, he shouted the warning as he tried to escape the area before the inevitable happened.
The BT ate one of them and a Voidout occurred.
An explosion that killed the Fallen and him, once again.
Sam returned to the world of the living lying on the ground, near the crater.
What a day, he thought. What a fucking day.
He touched the BB's capsule with one hand. He had returned with it, intact. But not out of danger. He was still suffering from autotoxemia. He was still in danger of death.
"Sam, the cargo can't be far," Die-Hardman contacted him again.
He stood on trembling legs, trying to control his breathing. But, as always, he vomited violently, doubling over. That was the only thing the Voidout had scattered. His cargo. It wouldn't be in very good condition, but...
Whatever. He would finish the third delivery and return to that place.
To connect the BB.
The destruction had changed the area completely. Around him, pieces of stone and earth flew towards the skies from the crater. Everywhere he looked, there were fish. Yes. Dead fish, as if they had drowned on the shore of the sea. To the point that it was impossible to walk without stepping on one.
He staggered around, working as quickly as he could to gather the lost cargo, returning it to his back.
Of course, not directly on his back, but on the cargo structure. Otherwise, regularly carrying between eighty and a hundred kilos, his spine would already be mush.
He approached the shelter, skirting the crater created by the Void. Not because it was too dangerous to enter. Although it certainly would be if he could do that. Yes, he was forced to go around the crater because it was impassable. That area was blocked. The wall wasn't entirely invisible; he could see that dark energy because he had DOOMS.
He placed the cargo on the belt. The hologram of the man appeared over the terminal.
"It could have arrived in better condition, but at least it made it," he said. "Thank you. I..."
Next time I'll make sure to predict the future, he thought.
"Do you want to join the UAC or not?"
"Yes." He frowned. "Connect me, ple–"
Sam hit the terminal again, making it disappear; he didn't even let him finish. He passed the Q-pid, which had all the necessary programming.
As always, he floated a few centimeters above the ground, surrounded by blue energy while the work was completed. This wasn't good for the BB in her state. Normally it didn't bother her, but now it would surely remind her of what they had just gone through. The BB's crying was probably constant, but Sam had the feeling it was getting louder. More heartbreaking and desperate.
But the worst part was when she suddenly went silent. She curled up into a ball, and her crying stopped, as did the capsule. The inside of the capsule was stained with an ominous black.
He knew this could happen, but...
He contacted the person to whom this shelter belonged again.
"If you have a Reverse Trike, lend it to me. I need it. I'll return it in perfect condition," he promised.
Practically begging.
His hands were trembling.
It turned out he did have one.
13
Sam arrived at the nearest distribution center, the Bridges base in the area.
He went down the elevator, and of course, the first thing he did was detach the BB and connect it to the machine. Immediately, the capsule lit up. Sam took a deep breath, relieved. She would be fine now. Deadman would take care of her.
Sam fell headfirst onto the bed, completely exhausted.
Another day at the office, he thought.
He slowly closed his eyes.
BRIDGES: FIN