Dean September 1st, 20xx, 5:22AM Somewhere in Milwaukee, 127 miles from Chicago Dean, with as much optimism as possible, admired the sunlight that made its way past the sea of forest that surrounded the highway. His two-door pickup truck passed thousands of trees every second as he zoomed down the road at sixty five miles per hour, which was one of many unusual instances that took place. The drive was surreal, for many reasons, and that worried the boy as he gazed at the branches rocking back and forth rather than the road before him. For one, he had made it a rule for himself to never exceed fifty on the speedometer whilst traveling. There were a lot of rules, that one being one of the most vital to him since crashing his previous car into a crowd of monsters in the dead of night. Secondly, Dean was calm. Almost relaxed, and this worried him the most. It was quiet, or at least felt so. The howling winds could not be heard, the roaring engine, not so roaring. It was strange. He had months of traveling under his belt, and even more spent in isolated protection, and yet, this particular morning felt like it was to be a special one. He hoped this to be a good thing, but that didn't seem like the case. More importantly, what truly worried Dean wasn't his calm, relaxed state, but how he had managed to get to this point as he stared into his trucks mirror, watching as a Berserker sprinted down the highway on all fours just a short distance from the bed of his truck. Berserks, that's what he called this variation of mutant. Its skin, soft and mushy as if it had been submerged in water for days. Crystals were riddled throughout every limb of its body like armor. Its legs and arms were horrifyingly bulky, yet slim at the same time, much like a cheetah. Its mouth and eyes trembling in an unholy frenzy for blood. Dean had witnessed a single Berserker slaughter twelve, thirteen, fourteen people? Watching as they all unloaded every bullet in in their inventory on the creature to no avail. He had only managed to slay two of this variation, and that was with the help of others. The only known method of slaying a Berserker, at least to the boy, was to impale the base of its neck, severing its spine. It's evident that this process is much easier said than done. And yet still, the young man remained calm. With less than half a tank to keep him going, there was no escaping the Berserkers sights. He would have to take action, quickly.