The night passed with a mixture of unease and contemplation after the walker attack. The group huddled close to the fire, the warmth doing little to dispel the cold tension lingering in the air. Despite their exhaustion, sleep came reluctantly, every rustle of the trees or distant groan keeping them on edge.
Murphy lay near the outskirts of the camp, his back against the RV. His arms were crossed, and his bitten forearm throbbed dully under the makeshift bandage. Though he wasn't worried about turning, the pain was an irritating reminder of how chaotic things had become. He slept fitfully, catching snippets of rest between moments of unease. Every time he opened his eyes, he noticed someone from the group glancing his way. Their wariness was palpable. In a world where the unknown was synonymous with danger, Murphy understood their hesitation. Still, he was in a better position now than he had been just a day ago, and that was worth something.
The sun broke through the canopy of trees the next morning, casting long shadows across the camp. Slowly, the survivors began to stir. Andrea was the first to rise, her blonde hair disheveled as she checked on her sister. Amy was curled up in her sleeping bag, her face peaceful despite the horrors of the previous night.
"Morning," Murphy said gruffly, startling Andrea as he stretched and stood. He gave her a small, tired grin. "Your sister okay?"
Andrea glanced at Amy, then back at Murphy. Her expression softened. "Yeah. Thanks to you. I… I didn't say it last night, but thank you for saving her. She's all I have left."
Murphy shrugged, brushing off her gratitude. "Just did what anyone would've done."
Andrea smiled faintly. "Not everyone would."
Nearby, Dale descended from the RV's roof, his movements careful but efficient. His eyes, lined with exhaustion, surveyed the camp as he adjusted his hat. "Everyone holding up?" he asked, his voice calm but tinged with concern.
"We're here," Rick said, stepping forward. He had been on watch with Shane for most of the night, and his weary expression showed it. "That's more than we could say yesterday."
Lori joined them, leading Carl and Sophia to the fire. She cast a wary glance at Murphy, then at the perimeter, as if expecting another attack. "I'll get breakfast started. We need to keep moving soon, right?"
Rick nodded. "We leave for the CDC as planned. No point staying here any longer than we have to."
Then Morales stepped forward, his expression tight.
"Rick," he called, voice strong but heavy with emotion. His wife and kids stood behind him, their bags slung over their shoulders. Jacqui was nearby, arms crossed, biting her lip.
Rick turned, taking a few steps toward him. "What's up?"
Morales gave a glance toward his family, then back to Rick. "We're not going to the CDC."
The words dropped into the group like a stone into still water. Several heads turned. Andrea paused, holding a jug mid-air. T-Dog, crouched by the RV's rear tire, froze.
Rick blinked. "You sure about that?"
Morales nodded. "Yeah. We've got family in Birmingham. Might still be alive. I have to try. We'll take our chances. The road's dangerous, but… so's chasing a maybe."
His wife, Miranda, stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. She looked exhausted but resolute.
"We understand why you're going," she said gently. "But our family—we need to find them if there's even a chance they're out there."
Rick's jaw tightened. He looked down for a moment, then back up, eyes earnest. "The CDC might have answers. A cure, information—hell, something. It's the closest thing we have to hope right now."
Murphy snorted lightly in the background but said nothing.
Morales smiled faintly. "Hope's not always a place. Sometimes it's just holding on to what you got." He extended a hand. "Thank you. For everything. We wouldn't have made it this far without you."
Rick grasped his hand firmly, clapped him on the shoulder. "Same to you. Stay safe out there."
As the group finished their morning routines, Jim lingered on the outskirts of the camp, his face pale and drawn. His hand occasionally brushed against his side, where the walker's bite was hidden beneath his shirt. He felt sick, a gnawing ache spreading through his body, but he told himself it was temporary. He couldn't afford to let anyone find out.
During the night, Jim had been plagued by a vivid dream. He saw himself at the CDC, standing before a doctor in a pristine white coat. The doctor held a syringe filled with something luminous and said, "I can save you." Murphy stood nearby, his blood being drawn into vials. The vision had felt so real, so tangible, that Jim woke with a jolt, clutching his side.
Now, as he watched the group prepare for the journey, Jim's resolve hardened. He couldn't tell them about the bite. They would never let him come with them if they knew. But the vision… the vision gave him hope. He just needed to hold out until they reached the CDC. Then he'd be cured.
"You okay, Jim?" Jacqui's voice cut through his thoughts, gentle but tinged with concern. She stood a few feet away, arms crossed as she studied him, her brow furrowed.
Jim forced a weak smile, trying to keep his hands from trembling. "Just a cold," he lied. "Didn't sleep great last night."
Jacqui didn't look convinced. She stepped a bit closer, eyes narrowing slightly. "You sure? You're looking pale. Sweaty, too."
He shrugged, turning slightly so she wouldn't see the sheen on his forehead. "It's nothing. I'll be fine."
There was a pause. The wind stirred the trees above them, casting dappled shadows over the camp.
"If you need to rest, Jim… don't try to play tough. Just let someone know, alright?" Her voice was softer now, less worried and more pleading.
"Will do," he said quickly, keeping his gaze on the fire pit instead of her eyes.
Jacqui lingered a moment longer, clearly not satisfied, but finally turned and walked off to help load supplies. Jim sat back against the rock, his smile vanishing as he stared at the dirt.
Nearby, Murphy joined Rick and Daryl as they discussed the route to the CDC. Daryl's expression was as unreadable as ever, his crossbow slung across his back.
"Road's clear as far as I could see," Daryl said, his tone clipped. "But that don't mean much."
Rick nodded, his jaw tight. "We'll stay sharp. Can't afford another night like last night."
"Agreed," Murphy said, his eyes scanning the tree line. "But if we're going to keep running into these speed-walking freaks, we need a better plan."
Daryl smirked faintly but said nothing, while Rick's expression remained serious. "Let's hope we don't run into any more today."
As the group prepared to leave, Amy approached Murphy. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and she held a small bundle in her hands. "Here," she said, offering it to him. "It's not much, but I thought you might need it."
Murphy unfolded the cloth to find a few medical supplies—bandages, antiseptic, and a clean rag. He glanced up at Amy, surprised. "Thanks. You didn't have to do this."
Amy shrugged, a shy smile on her lips. "You saved my life. It's the least I can do."
Murphy chuckled, tucking the supplies into his bag. "Guess I'll have to save you again sometime."
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," she replied, her smile growing.
The group set out soon after, the RV rumbling to life as Dale took the driver's seat. The others piled into various vehicles, their faces set with determination. Jim lingered near the back, his hand resting protectively over his hidden wound.
As the convoy rolled forward, Murphy found himself seated near Glenn, who was checking his map. The younger man glanced at Murphy and hesitated before speaking. "You really think the CDC can help us?"
Murphy leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "If they can't, we're screwed anyway. Might as well try."
Glenn nodded, though his worry was evident. "Yeah. Let's hope they're still there."
The journey stretched on, the vehicles weaving through abandoned roads and desolate landscapes. The silence was broken only by the occasional crackle of the radio or the hum of the engines. Despite the apparent calm, tension lingered in the air. Everyone's thoughts were on the CDC, on what they might find there—and what they might not.
Jim sat in silence, his face pale and sweat beading on his forehead. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes and gripping his side. The pain was worsening, but he kept his expression neutral whenever someone looked his way. His vision of the CDC played over and over in his mind, a flicker of hope in the growing darkness.
Murphy, meanwhile, stared out the window, his blue skin catching the sunlight. He could feel the group's eyes on him occasionally, their wariness mingled with curiosity. He didn't blame them. In their world, trust was hard-earned and easily lost. Still, he hoped that saving Amy had earned him at least a sliver of goodwill.
As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the convoy came to a stop near a secluded stretch of road. Rick stepped out of his vehicle, gesturing for the others to gather.
"We'll set up here for the night," he said. "Keep watch rotations the same as last night. Let's stay sharp."
The group murmured their agreement, setting up a makeshift camp. Murphy found a spot near the fire, his back against a tree. He noticed Jim sitting off to the side, his face pale and drawn. Something about the man's demeanor nagged at him, but he kept his thoughts to himself. For now, survival was all that mattered.