2-New Life

Elliot stood in the rain, standing in ranks with a group of recruits. The water soaked through his uniform, icy and persistent, as if trying to make its way to his bones. Around him, more than thirty young men stood in a resting position, hands behind their backs, faces hardened by fatigue.

Elliot watched them, noticing details that would have gone unnoticed before: some shivering from the cold, others struggling to keep their eyes open. There weren't as many as he expected.

But none of that really mattered. Nothing seemed to matter.

He was still struggling with the idea that this was all real. He was trying to convince himself that it was a dream, an illusion created by his mind. But the cold penetrating his skin and the rain falling on him like a constant punishment felt too real to ignore. "This is my life now," he thought. And if it really was his new reality, the big question remained: why?

Why had he been reborn in a world like this? Why The Last of Us? Was it because it was his favorite game? He couldn't find logic in that, but he couldn't find an answer that made sense either. In the end, he stopped searching. It didn't matter. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was here and he had to survive.

Although he wasn't sleepy, he could tell that the other recruits were exhausted. The shadows under their eyes and the way they pressed their lips together to keep from complaining said it all. However, they all maintained a firm stance, following orders like well-trained automatons.

In front of the group were two instructors, probably corporals. They both looked young, between 20 and 25 years old, but their faces told another story: lines of fatigue, scars that time hadn't erased, and a cold look, lacking compassion. Life here spared no one.

Elliot tried not to think about them too much. He had never done military service in his past life. For him, it had always been a waste of time; He preferred to work in mechanics, a field that, in his old world, guaranteed money and stability. But here there was no escape. Now he had to fulfill something he never wanted to do.

The sound of firm footsteps on wet asphalt brought him out of his thoughts. The entire formation tensed as a figure emerged from the darkness. It was a woman.

Even in the rain, her presence was imposing. Her blue FEDRA uniform was perfectly pressed and impeccable, as if the drops did not dare to stain it. A pistol hung from her thigh, held with military precision. She wore the characteristic blue FEDRA cap, and her short, blond hair framed a face that, despite her beauty, radiated authority and danger.

She was beautiful, yes, but she was scary.

Elliot felt it immediately, like an invisible weight in the air. There was something in her posture, in her icy gaze and in the way she walked, that made the silence even heavier. He was the kind of person who didn't need to raise his voice to be obeyed.

On his chest was a badge with his last name engraved on it: Stroud.

When he came to the front of the recruits, his eyes scanned the formation as if he could see through them, as if his gaze were capable of stripping away every lie, every weakness. He stopped in the center and spoke, his voice steady as a gunshot.

"It's four in the morning. You've been here two weeks, long enough to learn that comfort doesn't exist. If any of you think the worst is over, let me correct you: we're just getting started."

Stroud took a couple of steps forward, stopping right in the center of the formation, his words echoing like a whiplash.

"Today you will learn how to move in open terrain. We will practice team movements under simulated fire, with a focus on protecting your comrades while covering an advance. Later, you will have theoretical lessons on the infected and how to identify the signs of an approaching horde. I hope you pay attention, because if you don't, you could be the next casualty."

The rain continued to fall, and the silence in the formation grew heavier with each word from the lieutenant.

"After that, we will review urban combat strategies and tactics to repel insurgent attacks. The Fireflies are not an enemy to be underestimated. They are organized, intelligent, and ruthless. If you are not ready, I assure you that they will show no mercy."

Stroud looked over them once more, stopping at each face as if he wanted to memorize their expressions.

"Today will be a long day, but that is what it means to be a FEDRA soldier. Prepare yourselves, because there is no room for mistakes."

He turned sharply to the corporals. "Begin the perimeter march. Twenty kilometers. No breaks." Then he looked back at the recruits. "And remember: every step you take here could be the difference between living or dying out there."

The formation began to move, and Elliot felt the weight of her words fall on him like a stone. This was not training. This was preparation for war. A war against a world that no longer belonged to humans.

Thus the early morning passed. Elliot remained silent, focused on following orders, while the training continued in the relentless rain. He did not try to interact with his companions; the time and intensity of the activities did not allow it. Between marches, combat exercises and maneuvers, the only constant sound was the authoritative voice of Lieutenant Stroud echoing through the field.

That woman was not only dangerous, she was relentless. Elliot proved this when a recruit, too exhausted to continue, made the mistake of asking for a break. Stroud didn’t shout, he didn’t make empty threats. He simply knocked him down with a single blow, and as the young man tried to get up, he pinned him to the ground and forced him to repeat the movements under his supervision. His message was clear: there was no room for weakness.

Hours later, training ended, at least for the moment, and the recruits were taken to the cafeteria. The place was spacious, but austere, with precisely aligned metal tables and an oppressive atmosphere reinforced by the armed soldiers guarding every corner with M4 rifles. The presence of the guards made it clear that even within the quarantine zone, control was everything.

Elliot sat at one of the tables along with other recruits. His gaze dropped to the plate in front of him, surprised by what he saw: bread, egg, bacon, and even a cup of hot coffee. Food that, no doubt, the civilians in the quarantine zone would not see for months. It was a feast compared to the bland rations he'd been given for the past two weeks.

"Eat it all, you fucking bastards!" Stroud's voice bellowed from the front of the mess hall. His tone wasn't that of someone losing patience, but that of someone used to being listened to. It wasn't a shout, it was an order.

"Food is scarce in these desperate times, and FEDRA gives it to you to make you big, strong soldiers. If you waste one bite, I'll make you wish you'd never been born."

Elliot lowered his head, trying not to draw attention to himself, and began to eat. The smell of bacon and coffee filled the air, a fragrance that in another life would have been commonplace, but here it felt like an undue luxury. He took a sip of coffee and felt the heat burn in his throat, but he didn't care. It was the best thing he'd had in weeks.

"Shit, this is good," the boy sitting next to him commented. It was Lawrence, his roommate, a dark-haired young man with an ever-curious expression.

Elliot looked up and saw him enjoying his breakfast as if it were a royal feast. "I've never had bacon before," Lawrence said between bites. "My mom always said it was delicious, but I never thought about how much."

Elliot smiled slightly at the comment. "It's the best shit ever," he replied before taking another sip of coffee. Despite the circumstances, there was something comforting about the moment.

"Do you think this is part of training?" Lawrence asked, pointing to his half-empty plate.

“What do you mean?” Elliot replied, as he cut a piece of egg into his bread.

“I don’t know… like some kind of reward. Something to keep us putting up with all that shit out there.” Lawrence gestured to the window, where the rain continued to hit the panes.

Elliot thought about it for a moment. Was it a reward or just a way to keep them going? It was hard to say. Here, everything seemed to have a purpose, even the good things.

“Probably,” he finally said, shrugging. “But I honestly don’t care. This is better than anything I’ve eaten since I got here.”

Lawrence nodded and went back to his breakfast. Around him, the other recruits ate in silence, some staring into space, others clearly exhausted. The atmosphere was tense, but the food offered a brief respite, a moment of normalcy amidst the chaos.

As he finished his coffee, Elliot noticed the guards moving around the room, watching every corner. A voice in his head reminded him that this wasn't just a cafeteria; it was another battlefield, where any mistake could be punished.

When everyone was done, Stroud stood up and swept the dining room with his icy gaze. "Enjoy this moment," he said, his tone strong and direct. "Because it's the last breath you'll have today. From now on, I want you to prepare for a day that will make the early morning seem like a walk in the park."

The silence in the room became almost tangible. The recruits exchanged nervous glances, but no one dared to speak. Stroud smiled thinly, a smile that had nothing kind about it.

"See you in ten minutes at the training camp," he ordered before leaving, leaving behind a heavy air that seemed to absorb any trace of comfort.

Elliot took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. This was just beginning.

End Of Chapter 2