4. Training

Eight months back.

"Kid I don't care what you put on this paper. Ain't no way in hell you're old enough to join the reclamation teams." A recruiter said as he reviewed Davis's paperwork.

"Sir, I am fifteen now and do qualify for service." Davis said stiffly. He had reviewed all the requirements before he even came here.

"Boy! If I send someone as green as you out there I might as well kill you here and now myself!." The recruiter was furious as he felt this kid was throwing his life away. The would've only been ten when it all happened. He couldn't have needed to do anything extreme to make it to this point.

Davis looked him in the eyes and said "I can only give everything I have since I have lost everything I had."

After hearing these words the recruiter understood this boy suffered more than any child should. He stamped his papers and sent him off to training.

The next six months were hell for most people. Running every morning, rationed meals so people couldn't over eat, no contact with the outside world. Davis didn't care he had been doing this for years. Five years to be precise.

They did weapons traing every day. Close combat with no weapons, knives, opportunistic weapons, and firearms. Due to ammunition shortages they didn't get to do as much of this as he would have liked, but he did learn a lot.

Lack of sleep was a hurdle that broke most people, but not Davis he could go three days without sleep. It was almost not even human as some point. Out of the hundred or so recruits only twelve made it through training. Only the best could join reclamation teams, and Davis was the best.