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5-Six Months Later
🕑 Added 2024-12-23 14:46:22 +0000 UTCThe days passed slowly, but time did not stop. Elliot, with no signs of returning to his old reality, accepted that life was over. He stopped clinging to hope and decided to focus completely on his new existence as a FEDRA soldier. Every day began the same: the deafening sound of a siren at 6 a.m., marking the start of training. Nothing new. No rest. Just routine.
Over time, Elliot began to adjust. He grew closer to his roommate, Lawrence, who, despite being a rookie like him, seemed to have an optimistic outlook on life within FEDRA. The relationship between the two blossomed, and Lawrence became something of a friend, someone he could exchange jokes with amidst the tension.
In training, Elliot began to stand out. He was no longer just another recruit; every time he faced a challenge, he exceeded expectations. He didn't understand why. Perhaps it was the survival instinct, the desire to avoid a fate worse than death, or maybe there was something else inside him that he still couldn't understand. Whatever it was, his performance caught everyone's attention, especially Lieutenant Stroud, who soon named him her "star child."
His physique improved dramatically. His muscles were marked by months of constant exercise, his combat techniques became refined, and his ability to work as a team made him a natural leader among his peers. In addition, he began to learn more about the structure and operations of the Boston Quarantine Zone, something that intrigued and, at the same time, unsettled him.
However, while his performance flourished, the reality of FEDRA began to reveal its darker face. Civilians in the Quarantine Zone were not treated with the same respect as soldiers. Every time they were taken out of the barracks to practice in urban areas simulating insurgent attacks, Elliot witnessed firsthand the cruelty of the regime.
Public executions, starvation, and desperation were the order of the day for the civilians. Rations were meager and controls were oppressive. You could enter Boston, but leaving was impossible. Elliot watched with critical eyes as the civilians lived under the iron fist of FEDRA, and the idea that he was helping to maintain that system began to eat away at his mind. For the first time, he began to question his place there.
Despite his doubts, the training continued without respite. The months passed, and Elliot noticed how the intensity increased. Lieutenant Stroud prepared them for the worst, as if at any moment the world would collapse even more. The weeks became harder, and although Elliot was pleased with his growth, the atmosphere around him began to deteriorate.
Not all the recruits withstood the pressure. Some deserted, risking their lives to escape FEDRA. Others, consumed by desperation, made more definitive decisions. Elliot watched as fellow soldiers he had trained side by side broke under the weight of reality. Lawrence, on the other hand, changed completely. His loyalty to FEDRA became almost fanatical, a transformation Elliot could not understand.
Six months later, the end of training was near. What was originally designed as a one-year program had been accelerated due to a lack of soldiers and the increasing number of desertions. Elliot found himself caught between two worlds: one where his skill and dedication made him the ideal model of a soldier, and another where the shadows of FEDRA reminded him that the line between hero and villain was too thin.
Despite everything, Elliot continued to live day by day. He did not know what the future held, but it was clear to him that, in this world, the only constant was the fight to survive. And he had no intention of giving up.
-x.X.x-
Lawrence and Elliot were lying on a high balcony of an abandoned building, covered in weeds and moss that had taken over the walls over time. It was a temporary refuge outside the quarantine zone, a place safe enough to stay alert and observe the surroundings without being detected.
Elliot held an old cassette player in one hand, from which a raspy Limp Bizkit bass was playing at a barely audible volume. Resting on the floor next to him was his MK12 rifle, equipped with a large silencer and a telescopic sight that seemed designed for absolute precision. His aim had become so lethal that he was now assigned as a marksman, a position few reached.
Beside him, Lawrence was lying with the same nonchalance that always characterized him. In his hands he held a PSP, his fingers moving quickly over the buttons as a dim screen illuminated his face. On his legs rested an MP5 with a silencer, ready to be used at any moment.
“Seriously, where did you get that shit?” Elliot asked, breaking the silence as he bobbed his head to the beat of the music.
“The PSP?” Lawrence replied without looking away from the console. “Some idiot they executed had it in his room. It was two weeks ago, when we searched that building and took out several infected people.” His tone was nonchalant, almost as if he were talking about a find in a store and not the brutal eviction they had both witnessed.
Elliot didn’t answer right away. His eye had lined up with the scope, and through it he was watching something moving. Infected. In the distance, a group of runners moved erratically down the shattered street. Among them, the most imposing and terrifying figure: a Clicker.
“Hey,” Elliot said, keeping his cool as he adjusted the focus of his scope. “We have targets.”
Lawrence looked up from the PSP, set the console aside, and grabbed his MP5. He got into position, aiming down the street. “How many?” he asked as he adjusted the silencer.
"More than we normally see," Elliot replied. "There are... at least a dozen."
Lawrence watched carefully through his visor. The infected moved in a disorganized fashion, but they all seemed to follow a strange pattern, as if they were after something. "That's odd," he commented with a frown.
"Do you think they're following something?" Elliot asked, his tone tense but restrained.
"More like someone," Lawrence replied, a chill running down his spine.
Elliot adjusted the scope of his rifle and fixed his attention on the clicker. Its grotesque, fungus-deformed body made it stand out among the others. "Look at that clicker," he said quietly, following the infected's every erratic movement.
Lawrence watched it for a few seconds and then nodded. "You know," he said calmly. "If you're ready, just do it."
Elliot exhaled slowly, letting his breathing steady. His finger rested lightly on the trigger as he gauged the distance and movement of the target. The familiar mix of nerves and excitement washed over him. He knew that, in this world, a well-placed shot could make the difference between life and death.
“Coming,” he said in a whisper, his eye fixed on the scope, ready to pull the trigger.
Elliot pulled the trigger, and the clicker fell instantly, his head shattered by a clean shot. He didn’t miss a beat: he lined up the scope with another infected running nearby and fired again. Each shot was accurate, straight to the head. Most of the infected fell one after another, significantly thinning the group. Those left alive quickly disappeared, getting lost among the streets and abandoned buildings.
“Nice shot, bro,” Lawrence said, lowering his MP5 as he respectfully watched his partner’s work.
But before they could relax, they both heard something in the distance. Gunshots. They weren't close, but they were clear enough to indicate someone else was involved. They were coming from the same direction the infected had disappeared.
"Wow," Elliot commented, lowering his rifle but keeping his gaze on the horizon. "We weren't wrong."
Lawrence frowned as he adjusted his position. "I'll report to Lieutenant Stroud," he said as he began checking his radio for contact.
"Sure," Elliot replied with a slight smile. "But I'll bet you my dessert ration that she'll want us to investigate."
Lawrence arched an eyebrow, amused by the bet. "Like that?" he replied with a half-smile. "Deal."
Elliot chuckled as he peered through the scope again, making sure there were no more surprises. Deep down, they both knew Stroud's response would be predictable: investigate.
Lawrence reached for the radio on his tactical vest and pressed the transmit button. His voice came out clear and controlled, with a professional tone learned over months of training.
“Hawk 2 to Mother Hawk, over,” he reported, keeping his eyes on the street as he waited for a reply.
A few seconds of static filled the air before Lieutenant Stroud’s firm, authoritative voice came through the channel. “This is Mother Hawk, I’m picking you up loud and clear, Hawk 2, over.”
“Infected group sighted heading towards sector 3. Gunfire heard in same area. Requesting instructions, over,” Lawrence reported calmly, his words measured and direct.
There was a brief pause. The static returned, followed by Stroud’s voice, which now carried a more serious tone. "Hawk 2, we've confirmed recent Firefly activity in the area. They're believed to be infiltrating more personnel in the vicinity of the quarantine zone. Proceed to investigate Sector 3, but keep a low profile. Maximum caution. Over and out."
Lawrence dropped the radio and turned to Elliot with a triumphant smirk. "You owe me a dessert," he said with satisfaction, adjusting his MP5 and preparing to move.
Elliot snorted, shaking his head as he checked his rifle. "Damn, I knew you'd say that," he replied with a half-smile, standing up from his position.
Elliot slung his MK12 sniper rifle over his back, securing it carefully before quickly packing the rest of his gear into his backpack. Lawrence, following suit, did the same with his own gear.
When everything was ready, Elliot walked over to the wall behind them and grabbed an MP5, identical to Lawrence's: equipped with a flashlight, silencer, and no optical sight. He quickly checked the gun, loading it with a sharp click before nodding determinedly.
"Okay, let's go," he said as the two entered the old apartment that gave access to the balcony.
Instead of heading for the stairs, they walked to the other end of the apartment, where a broken window looked out onto a dark void. There hung a black rope, already prepared for the descent. Elliot, wasting no time, pulled out his rappelling gear and adjusted it with sure, precise movements.
Lawrence, leaning against the wall, watched him with a smirk. "Ladies first," he said jokingly, gesturing to the rope.
Elliot let out a dry laugh as he finished securing his harness. "Fuck you," he replied with a grin before launching himself down the rope, deftly descending the side of the building.
Lawrence watched him for a moment, calmly adjusting his own equipment before following. They both knew that once they hit the ground, there would be no room for jokes. What awaited them below was a mystery, but also a very real danger.
End of Chapter 5.
