Warren wasn't sure Murphy was going to make it to California.

The ragtag group of survivors had been travelling together for almost two weeks, heading out of New York. It was slow going, but they had vehicles, and were capable of surviving whatever the zom-pocalypse threw at them.

Murphy being one of them. He was supposed to be the saviour of humanity, but he was such an asshole. No one, Warren included, liked him. He was useless fighting z's, and his mouth got them into trouble with other survivors.

But that didn't mean that Warren didn't...care for him. Not necessarily as a fellow human, if you could say he was still human at all, but because his well being could mean the salvation for the human race. She had to keep an eye on him, because so few in the group tended to keep such a close eye on him.

With what Warren had seen, she was glad she'd paid closer attention than anyone.

Garnett was on watch, sitting on top of the truck, looking around the makeshift camp in case of trouble. Doc was sprawled on an old, stained lawn chair, snoring loudly. The others were scattered around, in various stages of sleep or wakefulness.

Murphy had been in the cab of the truck, but had slinked out with his water with barely a word. It was odd, for how quiet he'd been with Hammond, it seemed like he'd barely shut up since the soldier's death.

Warren watched as Murphy sat himself as far away from the others as he could get, leaning back in a plastic chair. For the first time, Warren realized how...rough Murphy looked. His skin was almost ashen, and the multiple layers he was wearing hung off of his frame. It was the apocalypse, and no one looked their best anymore, but everyone else in their group had clothes that fit, at least.

Murphy froze in his seat suddenly, then hunched over. Reaching filthy fingers into his mouth, Warren watched as he plucked a tooth from his mouth, unbroken and seemingly whole. Blood was nowhere to be seen, either, though in the dim light it was possible she couldn't see.

Murphy dropped the tooth, taking a long pull from his canteen. Taking a much smaller sip, he swished it around and spat the water out. Murphy ran a hand through his greasy mop of hair, wincing as he did.

Warren turned away, absent-mindedly stroking the handle of her machete. He was losing teeth, and Warren had a feeling that if there was anything else going on, Murphy probably wouldn't tell anyone. For all his bitching and moaning, she'd heard nothing about teeth problems.

This isn't good. What if he's turning into some form of super z?

Warren decided to keep a better eye on Murphy, watching warily as he made his way back to the truck. If he was going to turn, or worse, they didn't need it happening in the middle of the road while others were sleeping.

Murphy climbed into the truck, huddling himself up against the door. Warren sighed, waving to Garnett and making herself comfortable in the driver's seat.

They still had a long way to go.