Chapter six

Murphy trudged alongside Rick and the rest of the group as they approached the CDC in Atlanta. The sight of the imposing, sterile structure sent a shiver down his spine. It was so different from the ramshackle chaos of the camp they'd just left. The building loomed ahead, surrounded by overgrown grass and the eerie quiet of an abandoned military outpost. The faint sunlight glinted off the razor wire atop the fences, casting long shadows over the group as they made their way to the front gate.

Murphy lingered near the back of the group, his sharp blue-tinged features drawn tight with thought. Every step deeper into this reality, every conversation about "walkers" instead of zombies, solidified the gnawing suspicion in his mind. This wasn't his world. It wasn't just the terminology—it was the vibe, the rules, even the people. The chaos here felt wrong in ways he couldn't fully articulate. But he kept those thoughts to himself. If he told the others, they'd probably think he was insane.

Glenn, walking just ahead of him, glanced back nervously. "This place gives me the creeps," he muttered, adjusting the strap of his bag.

"Creepy or not, it's better than the camp," Andrea replied, her tone sharper than she intended. She'd barely let Amy out of her sight since the attack, hovering close to her sister like a protective shadow.

Amy walked beside Andrea, her expression a mix of gratitude and lingering fear. She kept glancing at Murphy, her shy smiles becoming more frequent. "Thanks again," she said quietly, her voice almost lost to the wind.

Murphy shrugged, offering her a crooked grin. "Like I said, just doing my part."

Andrea's sharp gaze softened as she looked at him. "You did more than that. You saved her life. I won't forget that."

Murphy waved a hand dismissively, his voice laced with his usual sarcasm. "Well, you're welcome to build a statue in my honor once this mess is over."

Ahead of them, Rick and Shane led the way, their faces set in grim determination. Rick's sheriff's hat shaded his eyes as he scanned the deserted outpost for any signs of life. "Looks abandoned," he said quietly to Shane.

"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean it's safe," Shane replied, his hand hovering near his pistol. His distrustful eyes flicked back toward Murphy, lingering for a moment before returning to the path ahead.

Daryl trailed just behind them, his crossbow slung over one shoulder. "Place looks dead," he muttered, his lips curling into a smirk. "Pun intended."

Dale, walking near the middle of the group, adjusted his fisherman's hat and nodded toward the military vehicles scattered across the lot. "Looks like they left in a hurry," he observed, his tone somber.

Murphy's sharp eyes scanned the outpost, lingering on the overturned Humvees and scattered gear. "Anyone else notice the lack of bodies? No soldiers, no walkers. Just… nothing."

Lori, holding Carl's hand tightly, exchanged a worried glance with Rick. "What if it's a trap?"

Rick shook his head, though the tension in his jaw was evident. "We don't have a choice. This is the only lead we've got."

T-Dog, his expression thoughtful, chimed in, "Let's hope whoever's in there is friendlier than the last group we ran into."

As they reached the front metal doors, Rick stepped forward and banged on them with his fist. The hollow clang echoed into the stillness, making everyone flinch slightly.

"Hello?" Rick called out, his voice firm but cautious. "We're survivors. We need help."

The group waited in tense silence, every creak of the wind putting them on edge. Murphy's gaze darted to the military outpost behind them, his unease growing. The place felt too empty, too quiet, like the calm before a storm.

Finally, a mechanical buzz broke the silence, and a camera above the door swiveled to face them. A harsh voice crackled over an intercom. "Identify yourselves."

Rick stepped closer, raising his hands slightly. "I'm Rick Grimes. We have women and children with us. We need food, shelter, and medical assistance."

The intercom was silent for a moment before crackling back to life. "Are any of you infected?"

"No," Rick said firmly. Then, glancing back at Murphy, he added, "One of us is immune."

Murphy stepped forward, his blue-tinged skin catching the faint light. "Yeah, that'd be me. Government project, yada yada. Long story short, bites don't bother me." He rolled up his sleeve, exposing the fresh bite mark alongside his older scars. "See? Still breathing."

The camera focused on him, the mechanical whirring unnerving in the otherwise silent lot. The voice on the intercom spoke again, more hesitant this time. "Immune? That's… unexpected. Wait there."

The group exchanged uneasy glances as the intercom clicked off. Murphy leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. "Friendly bunch," he muttered.

"You think they'll let us in?" Amy asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"They'd better," Andrea said, her tone steely. "We didn't come all this way for nothing."

As they waited, Murphy's attention drifted to Ed, who was lingering near the back of the group. The man's face was twisted into its usual scowl, his body language tense and defensive. Murphy had overheard enough from the others to know Ed was abusive, especially to his wife and daughter. Murphy made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

The metallic groan of the doors sliding open pulled Murphy's attention back to the front. A harsh light spilled out, momentarily blinding the group. A man in a lab coat stepped forward, his expression a mix of relief and suspicion.

"I'm Dr. Edwin Jenner," he said, his voice tinged with weariness. "You can come inside, but weapons stay at the door."

Rick nodded, motioning for the others to comply. The group hesitated briefly before relinquishing their firearms. Daryl gave his crossbow a lingering look before handing it over, muttering under his breath about trusting anyone in a lab coat.

Murphy handed over his knives without complaint, though he shot Jenner a pointed look. "If you try anything, Doc, I'll bite back."

Jenner didn't smile, but there was a flicker of understanding in his tired eyes. "Noted. Follow me."

As the group filed inside, the sterile, dimly lit corridors of the CDC felt like another world entirely. The contrast between the clinical environment and the chaos outside was jarring. Murphy couldn't help but glance around, his mind racing with questions. How had he ended up here? And why did this world feel like a twisted parody of his own?

Jenner led them to a large, sealed room where they could sit and talk. The group settled in, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and wariness. Murphy leaned against the wall, his sharp eyes fixed on Jenner.

"So," Murphy said, breaking the silence. "You've got yourself a motley crew of survivors. Now what?"

Jenner glanced at Murphy, his gaze lingering on the man's blue-tinged skin. "First, we run tests. If you're truly immune, that could change everything."

"Great," Murphy said with a sarcastic grin. "Just what I needed more needles."

The group chuckled nervously, the tension easing slightly. But as Jenner began preparing his equipment, Murphy's grin faded, replaced by a thoughtful frown. Whatever answers he found here, he had a feeling they'd only lead to more questions.