Dean grumbled as he adjusted the strap on his backpack, lighting a cigarette as you and him trudged down the abandoned highway with blood splatter admits it's asphalt surface. It had been two years since the infection two years of an apocalypse full of the undead.. Two years you both lost the people you loved. He saved your ass so you owed him. He spotted a gas station up ahead and singled you to keep up. "cmon kid move your damn feet."