Murphy leaned against the side of the RV, watching the group go about their evening routines. The camp had settled into a tense quiet after the earlier debate about him. Despite their skepticism, they had allowed him to stay. His presence was still met with wary glances, but he could live with that. Better than being alone.
Amy emerged from the RV, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders, holding a flashlight and muttering to herself. "Toilet paper, toilet paper… where the hell did we put it?"
Murphy smirked, his sharp blue-tinged features catching the faint firelight. "Check the bathroom? Revolutionary idea, I know."
Amy rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. "Hilarious. I'll keep that in mind next time." She disappeared around the side of the RV, and Murphy let his gaze drift back to the fire where most of the group was gathered.
Dale was perched in his usual spot atop the RV, scanning the perimeter with his binoculars. His weathered face was calm but alert, the rifle across his lap ready for action. Glenn, sitting near the fire, adjusted his baseball cap and chatted quietly with Andrea, who leaned back with her arms crossed, her leather jacket catching the firelight.
Murphy's attention shifted to Lori, who was ushering Carl and Sophia toward the edge of the camp. Her face was tight with worry, her dark eyes darting to Rick as he helped Shane and T-Dog reinforce the outer perimeter with scraps of debris.
"Stay close, okay?" Lori said, her voice firm but gentle. She placed a hand on Carl's shoulder, her other guiding Sophia along. The two kids nodded, their faces reflecting a mix of curiosity and unease.
"I'll be back soon," Lori assured them, casting a lingering glance toward Rick before leading the children toward a safer spot away from the campfire.
Murphy turned his gaze back to the fire. Something about the quiet gnawed at him. Too quiet. He straightened and glanced toward Daryl, who was sharpening a knife nearby, his crossbow resting within arm's reach.
"You feeling it too, Crossbow?" Murphy asked, his voice low.
Daryl didn't look up but nodded. "Always. You'd be stupid not to."
Murphy chuckled softly but kept scanning the darkness beyond the camp. The unease settled deeper in his gut as the moments stretched. Then, a sound pierced the night—a low, guttural groan. Murphy stiffened.
"Walkers!" Dale's shout came from above, and the camp exploded into motion. Rick and Shane immediately grabbed their weapons, and Glenn bolted toward the RV to help Amy.
Murphy's pulse quickened as the first walkers emerged from the shadows, their decayed faces illuminated by the flickering firelight.
"Everyone, weapons up!" Rick yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos. He fired a clean shot into the skull of a walker, the sharp crack of his revolver echoing in the night. Spinning, he aimed and fired again, covering Shane as more walkers poured into the camp.
Amy stumbled out from behind the RV, clutching a roll of toilet paper and a flashlight. Her hand shook violently, the beam of light darting erratically across the scene. "Oh my god!" she screamed, freezing in place as a walker lunged toward her, its decayed hands outstretched.
Murphy didn't think—he moved. With a burst of speed, he tackled the walker, driving his shoulder into its rotting chest and slamming it to the ground. The creature snarled beneath him, its teeth snapping inches from his face. Snatching a jagged shard of metal from the ground, Murphy gritted his teeth and drove it into the walker's skull. The creature went limp, its lifeless body collapsing.
"You okay?" Murphy asked Amy, rising quickly and offering a hand.
Amy nodded shakily, her wide eyes locked on the fallen walker. "Y-yeah, I think so. Thanks."
"Don't mention it," Murphy replied, spinning to face the next threat. His pulse pounded in his ears as the camp descended into chaos. Walkers emerged from the tree line in droves, their guttural moans blending with the shouts and gunfire of the group.
Daryl stood firm near the camp's edge, his crossbow loaded and ready. He fired bolt after bolt with practiced precision, each one finding its mark in the skull of a walker. "Keep 'em off me!" he barked, bending to retrieve his bolts from fallen walkers whenever he could.
T-Dog wielded a crowbar with brutal force, each swing accompanied by the sickening crunch of bone. His face was set in grim determination. "We've gotta push 'em back!" he shouted, his voice strained but resolute.
Rick and Shane moved together in perfect synchronization despite their earlier tension. Rick's revolver cracked repeatedly as he fired precise headshots, while Shane's pistol roared with each squeeze of the trigger. Shane's face was twisted with exertion as he shouted, "We need to hold the line!"
Murphy found himself near Ed, who had stumbled out of his tent, his face pale with panic. A walker lunged for Ed, its jaws snapping hungrily, but Murphy intercepted it, driving his shard of metal into its temple. Blood sprayed, and the walker crumpled to the ground. Ed's wide eyes locked on Murphy, a mixture of fear and surprise crossing his face.
"Stay behind me," Murphy snapped, his tone sharp.
Ed nodded quickly, backing away as Murphy stepped forward to intercept another walker. One managed to grab Murphy's arm, its yellowed teeth sinking into his forearm before he could react. Murphy roared in frustration, jerking his arm free and slamming his elbow into the walker's face. With a swift motion, he finished it off with a stab to the head.
"Damn it," Murphy muttered, shaking his arm. The pain throbbed, but he wasn't worried about turning. "Every damn time."
Near the RV, Andrea and Glenn were locked in combat with a group of walkers. Glenn swung a tire iron with all his strength, his face set in a determined grimace as he knocked a walker's head clean off its shoulders. Andrea fired her pistol, the sharp report echoing as she took down another.
Amy, emboldened after Murphy's save, grabbed a wrench from the RV and joined them. Her hands trembled as she swung it, but her fear gave way to fierce determination. "Get away from my sister!" she screamed, bringing the wrench down on a walker's skull with a sickening crack.
Dale fired from atop the RV, his rifle picking off walkers that got too close to the group. His face was grim, his hands steady as he shouted, "Keep moving! Don't let them corner you!"
Jim fought alongside T-Dog, his movements frantic but effective. A walker lunged at him, and he barely managed to fend it off, its teeth grazing his side as he shoved it away. His expression tightened, but he said nothing, continuing to fight as though nothing had happened.
Jim clutched his side, hiding the wound beneath his shirt. He knew what a bite meant, but he also knew what he had seen in his vision. Murphy had to get to the CDC. That was the only way.
As the tide of walkers began to thin, the group's combined efforts finally turned the battle in their favor. The last walker fell to Daryl's crossbow, and the camp fell silent once more, save for the group's heavy breathing and the occasional moan of the dying.
Murphy wiped blood from his face, his chest heaving as he surveyed the carnage. "Everyone still breathing?" he asked, his tone laced with dark humor.
Rick nodded, his revolver still in hand. "For now. But we need to stay sharp. This could happen again."
Shane reloaded his pistol, his face set in a grim mask. "We need to reinforce the perimeter. Can't let this happen again."
Daryl retrieved his bolts, glancing at Murphy. "You did good, blue boy. Didn't think you had it in you."
Murphy leaned on his stick, his face twisted in annoyance as he glanced at the bite on his arm. "Well, that sucked," he muttered. "You're welcome, by the way."
Rick approached him, his revolver still in hand. "You okay?" he asked, his eyes scanning Murphy's face for any signs of injury.
Murphy smirked. "Just another bite to add to the collection," he said, lifting his arm to show the group. "See? No turning. Told you I was immune."
The group exchanged wary glances but said nothing, their doubt tempered by the bite marks they had already seen on Murphy's chest.
Amy emerged cautiously from the RV, her face pale but grateful. "Thank you," she said softly, her hands trembling. "You saved me."
Murphy waved her off. "No big deal. Just doing my part."
Jim, standing off to the side, clenched his fists. His face was pale, and his movements were stiff, but he forced a smile as the others began to regroup. Inside, he felt a growing urgency. He had to keep his bite hidden. He couldn't let them know—not yet. The CDC was his only hope.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the last walker fell. The camp was eerily silent, save for the heavy breathing of the survivors and the crackling of the dying fire. The group regrouped near the RV, their faces a mix of exhaustion and relief.
Rick scanned the group, his face grim but steady. "Is everyone okay?"
Amy nodded, her hands trembling but her expression resolute. "I… I'm fine. Thanks to Murphy."
Ed, still pale, muttered, "Yeah. Same here."
Murphy waved a hand dismissively, his other arm cradling the bitten one. "Don't get all sentimental on me. Just doing my part."
Andrea noticed the blood dripping from his arm and frowned. "You're hurt."
"Yeah, and?" Murphy said, his tone flippant. "I'm not turning. Relax." He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the fresh bite alongside the older scars. The group exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing, reminded of his supposed immunity.
Jim stood apart from the group, his face shadowed as he leaned against the RV. His hand clutched his side where the walker had bitten him, but he kept it hidden, his expression carefully neutral.
Rick's gaze lingered on Murphy for a moment before he nodded. "Alright. Let's clean this up and get some rest. We leave for the CDC at first light."
The group dispersed, their movements slow and weary. Murphy sat by the fire, his blue skin glinting in the faint light as he watched the others. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked to Jim, narrowing slightly as he noted the man's tense posture.
For now, Murphy said nothing. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.