1-Reborn in Boston

Elliot had never faced great challenges. His life was uneventful: a normal guy, with a comfortable routine, video games as his greatest passion, and a constant effort to be a good person. All that changed the day the world ended.

January 1, 2025 was the date that marked the beginning of the end. World War III broke out with unprecedented ferocity. The great powers, in a display of desperation and hatred, unleashed as many nuclear bombs as possible, annihilating entire nations in a matter of hours.

Elliot was in his small apartment, oblivious to the imminent disaster, until the sky lit up with a flash that announced death. As the world collapsed around him, he allowed himself a moment of reflection. Had he had a good life? Yes, he thought. He had enjoyed his favorite video games, had a loving relationship, and maintained a good relationship with his parents. He was neither a hero nor a villain, just an ordinary person who had accepted his place in the world.

When the bomb fell, there was no time for fear. Everything disappeared in a fraction of a second. The scorching heat consumed his building, his city, his existence. His last thought was a list of thanks: Cyberpunk 2077, GTA IV, Red Dead Redemption 2, Metal Gear, Death Stranding, and, of course, The Last of Us Part 1 and 2. Games that had accompanied him in his quiet life and that now seemed like a comfort in the midst of the end.

Then, the emptiness. Elliot felt his life fading away, his consciousness fading... but not completely. Why was he still thinking? Why was he conscious? He had read theories about rebirth after death, but had never taken them seriously. Now, trapped in the infinite silence, he couldn't help but wonder if he was doomed to this eternal limbo.

Then something impossible happened. He felt a tug, as if an invisible force was dragging him by the back. First slowly, then with a dizzying speed that defied all logic. The emptiness around him became a whirlwind, and Elliot screamed, not out of fear, but from the overwhelming feeling of being stripped of everything.

Suddenly, the darkness disappeared. His mind, confused and exhausted, tried to process what was happening. And then, he opened his eyes.

-x.X.x-

Elliot's eyes snapped open, gasping as if he had just woken from a nightmare. His body was covered in cold sweat, and his mind was slow to adjust. He instinctively brought his hands to his face, feeling his cheeks and arms. Everything felt real, but at the same time it wasn't. The memories of his former life were there, vivid and recent, but they felt like fragments of a hazy dream.

As his mind cleared, a feeling of bewilderment began to grow. Something was very wrong.

He sat up slowly, but in doing so he hit his head against something. "Shit!" he muttered, bringing his hand to his forehead. He looked around, blinking to adjust to the dim light, and realized he was in a bunk bed. It wasn't his old double bed, nor his tidy, familiar room.

"What the...?" he muttered, his gaze scanning the room. Although the lighting was poor, he could make out that the room was much smaller than his old room. It was in complete disarray: black combat boots lying haphazardly, blue uniforms hanging carelessly, and two old desks, each with an outdated laptop on top. Everything looked worn, weathered, as if the place had been abandoned for years.

Nothing made sense.

“What’s going on?” he whispered, trying to calm his breathing, when a voice interrupted him.

“Go to sleep, old man. We have training with Lieutenant Stroud tomorrow,” someone said from the top of the bunk. It was a young boy’s voice, who muttered disdainfully before turning around and settling down to sleep again.

Training? Lieutenant Stroud? The words echoed in his head, completely out of place. He looked at the blue uniform hanging on the side of the bunk. He took it with shaking hands and examined it under the dim light. Although old and somewhat worn, it was still in good condition. But what caught his attention was a detail on the chest: a badge with a single word stamped over the heart.

FEDRA.

The name was all too familiar, so much so that he felt a chill run down his spine. "It can't be..." he whispered, as he surveyed the rest of the room. Every corner seemed to tell the same story: old, dilapidated military equipment, but everything bore the same stamp: FEDRA.

As he searched through the mess, his gaze stopped on a wall. There hung a calendar. Reading the date, his heart stopped for a moment. 2013.

"This is impossible," he muttered, putting his hands to his head. "No... it can't be real."

His breathing quickened, and panic began to take hold of him. He had read fantasy stories where people were reborn in other worlds, but this...? This was beyond any logic. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, but the pieces were beginning to fit together in a terrifying way. FEDRA, 2013, worn uniforms...

Suddenly, a thought materialized in his mind like a bolt of lightning. "The Last of Us."

Elliot slowly sat up in the bunk, his uniform still in his hands. “I’m in The Last of Us,” he muttered, his voice shaking. The world he had admired as a simple video game player now enveloped him. And this world was not a place anyone wished to live.

Elliot walked slowly to the room’s only window, the sound of rain hitting the glass filling the air in a steady rhythm. The darkness outside seemed to absorb everything. When he pulled back the tattered curtain a little, his eyes met a devastating panorama.

There, beyond the walls that delimited the quarantine zone, was the city of Boston… or what was left of it.

Ruined buildings stood like skeletons in the gloom, silent monuments to a collapsed civilization. There were no lights, no sounds of life, only shadows. The streets were flooded with rubble and the echo of the wind carried with it an air of desolation. The only thing that shone in the night were the dim lights coming from the quarantine zone spotlights installed in the FEDRA watchtowers.

Elliot swallowed, feeling reality hit him hard. This was not a bad dream. This was real.

He stared, motionless, as fragments of memory began to flood his mind. They were not memories of his past life, those remained intact, but those of this new life that somehow now belonged to him.

He was Elliot. A young man born in the Boston quarantine zone. He remembered his childhood within the oppressive walls of a military regime, where every day was a struggle to survive. At 16, FEDRA had enrolled him in its educational program, one designed not to teach but to indoctrinate. Now, at 18, he had been officially recruited as a soldier. Not out of patriotism or loyalty, but out of necessity. A roof, a bed, and three meals a day.

The memories came back with disturbing clarity: the endless lines at the soup kitchens, the mandatory cleaning shifts, and the constant surveillance of the soldiers. Boston was one of the few quarantine zones that FEDRA still fully controlled, and that control was tight. Joining meant survival.

He had only been officially assigned two weeks ago. His training had begun: basic weapons, patrol tactics, and absolute obedience. He remembered the screams of the instructors, the ache in his muscles after endless hours of drills, and the authoritative voice of Lieutenant Stroud, insisting that being strong was the only way to survive.

Two weeks. Only two weeks, and he already felt the weight of the world crushing his shoulders.

Elliot looked away from the window and slumped down onto his bunk, the creaking of the old mattress accompanying his thoughts. “This is real,” he muttered to himself. “I’m trapped in this world.” His breathing quickened, and for a moment he wished he could return to the comfort of his old life, to the days of video games and tranquility. But that was no longer possible.

Outside, the rain continued to fall. From his bunk he could hear the murmuring of his sleeping companions. "They have no idea who I really am, or that I shouldn't be here." He thought about what he would do from now on. FEDRA was not known for her compassion, and this world was not a place for the weak.

Suddenly, a knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts. It was firm, authoritative.

"Get them up! Time to line up, training starts in five minutes," a voice shouted on the other side.

Elliot jumped up, feeling a knot in his stomach. This was just beginning.

End Of Chapter 1