Sam once again found himself face to face with the gun that killed him and Cliff. The gun that started everything. Amelie had admitted that it was she who had killed them, so who was the gun connected to in this world? It must have been John Blake McClane, the president’s aide. He had been the one to build a Bridge to the Beach by thinking of it.
“Bingo—there you were. Mama made visual contact first. She was able to see you from her vantage point on the other side. She informed Lockne via their connection, and Heartman confirmed your location during his subsequent near-death experience. The plan was for Fragile to, in essence, ‘slingshot’ Lou and me to your position so we could rescue you.”
So, it was Deadman who had grabbed Sam’s legs and brought him back? No, it was all of them who saved him. All of them had continued the search. Sam felt like his voice would waver if he tried to say anything, so he just nodded instead.
“But it’s not so easy to send multiple individuals to another person’s Beach for an extended period of time. And that’s where the umbilical cord came in. We wove these from President Strand’s DNA. They serve as a single knot that binds us all.”
Deadman puffed out his chest with pride and showed Sam the new symbol of Bridges—a quipu. It was intertwined with the proof that Bridget had lived.
“The president must have known all of this would happen. Ironic, isn’t it? The gun that set this whole mess in motion ends up being the key to saving you.”
“Amelie—she said it had another purpose,” Sam told Deadman.
“Not a weapon, but a lifeline. A stick that became a rope? I suppose that’s one way of putting it…” he mused.
Sam was suddenly engulfed by something that felt like a soft, warm bed.
“Oh, Sam, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to give you a hug!” Deadman’s arms reached around Sam’s back. He felt warm. It was like being wrapped up in a blanket when he was a kid.
“Got something else to tell you. Top secret,” Deadman whispered into Sam’s ear. “It’s about Cliff. His BB’s mother’s name was Lisa Bridges. Cliff’s common-law wife. And…”
Deadman lowered his voice and looked down.
“Cliff was killed by a man identified in the records only as ‘John.’ Former US Special Forces. Quite good at it, by all accounts. Later appointed as an aide to the president, who used him for most of her wetwork. The records go on to state that he vanished after Cliff’s death. A warrant was put out, but he was later found dead. Turns out some people ‘die’ harder than others, though. Dear ‘John’ donned a mask and reappeared with a new identity.”
Sam nodded silently to indicate to Deadman that he already knew. Amelie had told him so. John had also had to sacrifice his past as another sacrifice on the altar of America.
“I don’t trust him,” Deadman blurted out. “But I’ll work with him if that’s what it takes. We’ll talk later.”
Deadman shook himself free and took off at a trot down the hallway. In his stead appeared the new maskless president. He was too close for Sam to pretend that he hadn’t noticed him, and it would have been awkward to walk away. Hopefully, Die-Hardman would just pass by, pretending not to see him.
It was the president who spoke first. But he wasn’t talking to Sam. It was like he was talking at himself.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me…” Die-Hardman’s voice was already trembling. “But would you hear me out? I killed Captain Clifford Unger.”
He didn’t mention killing Sam. That’s how Sam knew he was telling the truth.
“I would tell you I did it for America. For love of country. But I didn’t. I did it for her—because I loved her with all my heart. She was everything to me. Everything. Now, I’m not trying to make excuses. I just want you to know, that not a day’s gone by when I haven’t thought about it. Time didn’t help. Or the mask.”
Die-Hardman couldn’t have forgotten about the past. It lived on in that mask. Weighed down on him. All he’d done was bury it. Sam could sympathize with that. He had done the same. That’s why he couldn’t stay there anymore. But as Sam tried to leave, Die-Hardman stopped him.
“Please—let me finish. The captain saved my life.”
Sam didn’t believe that confessions were ever for purification’s sake. They were to offload a burden for someone else to deal with later. The one who took care of that burden was the savior or human to be sacrificed. If only that role was divided more equally among everyone, then there would be no need for a savior or a hero. A society that cries out for a savior is a society that’s fundamentally broken.
“You know why they call me Die-Hardman? Because he wouldn’t let me die. He brought my sorry ass back home every time. And I loved him as much as I loved her.”
Die-Hardman always needed someone to believe in, something to give up everything for. Sam was the same. Just as Die-Hardman sought Cliff, Bridget, and America, Sam sought Lucy, Lou, and Amelie.
“And when he stared me down, that ghost, I knew. He was here to kill me. To make it right. And why shouldn’t he? Why didn’t he? He couldn’t save his kid. His BB. And that’s what brought him back. I guess, when he saw I was trying to do my part for America, he remembered who he was… and he forgave me.”
Die-Hardman cried loudly, falling to his knees. It was like he could no longer bear the weight of Cliff’s forgiveness. “God! But I don’t deserve it, goddammit! There is no atoning for what I’ve done!” he cried. The man who had let his guard down and was openly weeping was no longer the president, but John again.
“Dammit!” he yelled, pounding the floor with his fist. He kept hitting it and hitting it, not even aware that the pounding had broken his skin and that blood was splattering on the floor. There wasn’t a shred of beauty or dignity in the man before him, but neither did he seem pitiable or small. Sam grabbed John’s arm and helped him back to his feet.
“But maybe… maybe this is the next best thing. Maybe he brought me back from the Beach for a reason… one last time. He wanted me to do this. To keep on being Die-Hardman.”
“No, he didn’t,” Sam cut in.
John blinked.
“Nobody wants a president who acts like they’re immortal. If you’re not scared of death, how can you value life?” Sam said, shoving the gun against the president’s chest.
“And yeah, the old ways die hard, but that’s what’s gonna have to happen… if we’re gonna come together and build a better America. ‘That gun won’t help you here.’”
The president slowly received the gun with both hands. Guns had been around since their ancestors first came to America. They were used for protection, killing, and upholding justice. But now, in the president’s hand, a gun was becoming something else.
“Her words, not mine,” Sam added.
That gun had been a bridge to Sam. The president stowed the gun in the inside pocket of his jacket and wiped the tears from his face.
“Thank you, Sam.”
Sam walked away as those words echoed behind him. He was heading outside. From the underground hallway to those fields shining with light.
“Hey, Sam. Been waiting for you.” Deadman had been standing outside like a guard. The strong shutter that stood at the beginning of the slope leading outside was down. It was exactly where Sam had set out all that time ago to incinerate Bridget’s body. Where it all began. Deadman looked up from his feet. In his arms was the BB pod.
“Lou!?” Sam didn’t even have to check. That pod was already a part of him.
“The decommissioning order finally came through.” Deadman’s voice was cold. He sounded nothing like the man who had embraced him earlier. “Poor thing was never truly alive. Not in this world, at least. I know you have a connection with Lou, but Lou doesn’t belong here anymore. Can’t risk necrosis. The body can’t stay here. I thought you might want to take care of it. You could try taking Lou out of the pod just to see what happens, but that would be in direct contravention of an executive order.”
Lou was floating in the amniotic fluid, eyes closed. Sam could barely tell whether Lou was sleeping or dead.
“And there are laws about that kind of thing now that we’re a nation. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. But if the alternative is defying the president… I can’t do that, either. Not me.” Deadman was cradling the pod with both arms like anyone else would a baby. “I’m sorry, Sam, I—”
“Alright. I’ll go to the incinerator,” Sam told him.
That was the incinerator where Sam first connected to Lou. As he handed over the pod, Deadman tried to act casual and wiped away the tears from his face. At the same time, he removed one of Sam’s cuff links.
“I just took your cuff links offline,” he explained.
His tears were probably real, but while he pretended to wipe them away, he accessed Sam’s cuff links using his own.
“In that state, there’d be nothing to stop you from removing them. If you did, the UCA wouldn’t know where you were or how to find you. You’d be invisible. When you use the incinerator, you’ll be reconnected to the network automatically. You can’t use it offline. I trust you’ll remember what I said?”
“Right. Absolutely.” Sam took the pod. “Thanks for everything.”
Before he ended his sentence, he turned around and hugged Deadman. That man who had first burdened Sam with Lou behind his back was now openly entrusting him with the BB. The weight and significance of the action was completely different from last time.
The shutter went up with a creak. Pale light streamed into the room and a shadow of a person was cast over the floor of the entrance.
“How’s the weather?” Sam asked. Fragile turned around.
“Don’t think you’ll be needing an umbrella,” she answered.
She had made a complete recovery. It seemed to Sam like her smile had become softer than before. There were no longer any gloves covering her hands as she put the umbrella away. She had stopped hiding her scars.
“I decided to follow my father’s dream after all. Don’t worry. I won’t get mixed up with any terrorists this time. UCA’s got my back. We’re the first private delivery company to get official approval,” Fragile explained.
“Sounds like you’re moving up in the world. Congratulations,” Sam told her.
At her chest, over her brand-new uniform, hung a quipu, exactly the same as those worn by Deadman and the others.
“Thanks. Wait. There’s something I have to tell you.” Her smile turned into a more serious look. “I didn’t shoot Higgs. Couldn’t pull the trigger. So, I let him choose. Death or eternal solitude on the Beach.”
As she bit her lip slightly and looked at her feet, it was difficult to tell from her face why she was telling Sam this. Did she regret not getting her revenge? Did she regret exacting her revenge on him, the same way he did her?
“Fair enough. You never did like breaking things.”
“That’s right. I find and fix what’s broken and reconnect it. I’m Fragile…” Her tone and expression lightened up a bit. “But…” She looked Sam in the eye. Sam nodded and opened his mouth…
“…but not that fragile!” they said in unison.
“Wanna come work for me? Could use a man like you.” Fragile asked the same question she had asked back in the cave so long ago. Sam had to play along.
“The world’s still broken. The same as before.”
“Come on. You put America back together, didn’t you?” she countered.
“Doesn’t mean there’s a place for me. I’ve got no ties to anyone or anything. I might as well be dead. I felt like that when we first met in the cave, and I still do.”
Fragile put her hand on Sam’s shoulder.
“Don’t act like you’re the same person! You’ve learned how to touch. To feel. You’ve connected with people—with us!”
She was right. Ever since she jumped him back from the Beach, he had begun to get better. Yet he still couldn’t bring himself to be openly happy.
“Everything I touch, I lose,” Sam told her.
Fragile’s hand left Sam’s shoulder. Both her warmth and the weight of her hand disappeared.
A ray of light pierced through a gap in the thin cloud cover. It was a sight that no one had seen for a while. Fragile squinted up at it.
One day, a woman like her might be able to go beyond the clouds. He secretly hoped that she would.
“C’mon, Lou. One last delivery,” Sam muttered to himself as he began to climb the slope.