The chill of the desert night seemed sharper now, cutting through the quiet as tension mounted between the three men. Charlie's hand went to his revolver, the metallic scrape loud in the stillness as he drew it and cocked the hammer. His eyes burned with defiance as he pointed the weapon directly at Jose.
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"Charlie," Jed barked, his voice low but commanding, "don't."
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Charlie didn't budge, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the handle. "Jed, I can't keep lettin' him go. You know what he's done!"
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Jose smirked from atop his horse, unfazed by the gun barrel aimed his way. "Go ahead, boy," he drawled, his tone dripping with arrogance. "See if you've got the nerve. Or better yet, see what happens after."
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Jed sighed, pushing back his hat and glaring at Charlie. "Put it down, boy. You're wastin' energy you don't have on someone who ain't worth it."
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After a tense beat, Charlie lowered the gun, though his jaw was clenched tight with anger. "This ain't over," he muttered.
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Jose chuckled, his voice a low rumble. "Oh, it never is with you two, is it?" He shifted in his saddle, the movement casual, almost lazy, as though he were a king addressing peasants. "Now, before we get all sentimental, let me tell you somethin'." He nodded toward the distant village. "That town yonder? Built-in a week. Just one man, out here in the middle of nowhere."
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Jed squinted his skepticism plain on his weathered face. "How would you know?"
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"Well," Jose said, leaning forward as if relishing the attention, "last Monday, I was ridin' through these parts, mindin' my own business when I saw it. Figured it was just another ghost town, but when I got closer, there he was. Big fella—pale, bald, looked like he'd never seen the sun. Out here all alone, buildin' like it was a holy mission or somethin'. Kept mutterin' 'bout makin' humans 'evolve.'"
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Jed raised a brow. "And you just happened to stumble on this guy? What'd you do, rob him blind?"
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Jose's grin widened, his teeth glinting in the moonlight. "Well, you know me."
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Charlie snorted. "You're full of it. No way some man just up and builds a whole damn town in a week."
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"Believe me, don't believe me," Jose replied with a shrug, his tone mocking. "Doesn't make a lick of difference to me."
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Jed leaned on the horn of his saddle, his expression unimpressed. "So why're you tellin' us this fairy tale?"
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Jose's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Because I figure we can make a deal. Work together. Find that Holy Crystal everyone's whisperin' about."
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Charlie let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. "You serious? That's the funniest damn thing I've heard all week!"
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56Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW0rL22lu1a
Jed chuckled too, though his tone was darker, sharper. "You're somethin', Jose. A snake in the grass. No, scratch that—you're a damn rat."
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Jose's smile thinned, his voice dropping to an icy tone. "Fine. Laugh it up. But you'll regret this." With that, he pulled on the reins, his horse turning smoothly. He cast one last look over his shoulder before riding off toward the village, his figure swallowed by the night.
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For a moment, the only sound was the wind.
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Charlie glanced at Jed. "So, Uncle Jed… should we head into that town?"
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Jed adjusted his hat, his gaze lingering on the village lights. "Yeah, might as well. Could use a roof over our heads for a spell."
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Charlie hesitated. "What about Jose?"
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Jed snorted. "Jose's like a rattlesnake without venom. He makes noise, but he ain't bitin' tonight. Just another man tryin' to act bigger than he is."
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With that, the two men urged their horses forward, their silhouettes cutting through the shadows as they approached the strange, unmarked town. Charlie and Jed finally arrived at the village after a long, quiet ride under the pale moonlight. The air hung heavy, carrying a faint chill that seeped into their bones. The homes ahead were squat and sturdy, built from rough-hewn stone and clay, their domed roofs blending into the earth like they'd been there forever. Narrow paths wound between them, cobbled in places, packed dirt in others, the kind of place where time itself seemed to slow. Smoke rose in thin spirals from a few chimneys, though the village itself was eerily still.
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The two dismounted in front of a small, two-door structure tucked into the shadows. Jed glanced at it, squinting like the place owed him money. "Well," he grumbled, "if this ain't cozy. Looks like it could collapse if you sneezed hard enough."
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Charlie, ever the optimist, chuckled. "It's better than sleepin' out there with the coyotes and the cold. Let's see if it'll hold the horses."
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They opened the creaky double doors and led their steeds inside. The room smelled faintly of hay and damp stone—a stable of sorts, though far from luxurious. Charlie patted his horse on the neck before turning to Jed. "Silver'll be fine here. Not like there's much trouble to get into."
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Jed snorted, adjusting his hat. "Speakin' of trouble, keep an eye on your saddle. Last thing we need is Jose creepin' back to pick us clean."
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With the horses settled, they stepped out the back door into the open air. The village stretched before them in the faint light of lanterns flickering in windows. Charlie paused, his gaze drawn to one house in particular. It had a faint glow spilling out from inside, and even from a distance, he could see the glass panes were clean, the walls well-kept. It stood out against the general weathered state of the village.
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Charlie nudged Jed. "Hey, look at that one." He pointed. "It's got lights, nice windows… hell, I think I even smell food. Thought this place'd be all creepy and abandoned."
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Jed sniffed the air, his expression turning sour. "Nice on the inside, sure, but the outside? This whole damn place stinks."
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Charlie gave him a confused look before sniffing the air himself. "Stinks? I don't smell nothin'."
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Jed scowled, waving his hand dismissively. "Figures. You got the nose of a damn mule. Smells like mold and desperation out here. But you do you, kid."
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Charlie laughed under his breath, shaking his head. "You're somethin' else, Uncle Jed. What're you gonna do, sniff every house in this village?"
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Jed smirked, his humor dark and sharp. "If I do, it'll still be more productive than whatever nonsense you're thinkin'. I'm gonna check this place out. Get a feel for it."
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Charlie nodded, adjusting the brim of his hat. "Alright, I'll see if this place's got any food worth takin'. No point sleepin' on an empty stomach."
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Jed tipped his hat and started walking down the narrow path, his boots crunching against the dirt and stone. "You don't die of food poisoning, you let me know," he called over his shoulder.
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Charlie grinned as he turned toward the house with the glowing windows, his curiosity leading him closer. Meanwhile, Jed disappeared into the shadows, his figure blending into the stillness of the strange village. Charlie stepped into the house, pushing the creaky wooden door open with a hand on his holster, just in case. The dim light from a single lantern in the corner cast flickering shadows across the room. His eyes scanned the shelves, quickly picking out rows of canned beans, loaves of bread, candy bars, and bottles of whiskey and tea.
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"Well, damn," Charlie muttered, stepping further inside. He grabbed a can of beans, shaking it slightly, then set it down in favor of one of the whiskey bottles. "This ain't half bad. Place like this, I was expectin' rat droppings and cobwebs."
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He twisted the cap off a tea bottle, took a cautious sip, and smirked. "Decent enough," he said to himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
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As he walked further into the house, his boot nudged an empty tin can on the floor. It rolled lazily before stopping near the window. That's when Charlie noticed it—a shadow flickering outside. His breath hitched for a second, and his instincts kicked in. Slowly, he stepped toward the window, peering out cautiously from the side.
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What he saw made his stomach turn. A dead coyote lay sprawled in the dirt just beyond the house, its belly torn open, blood pooling around it. The fresh wound glistened under the faint moonlight, and jagged teeth marks covered its neck.
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"What the hell…" Charlie whispered, leaning closer. He scanned the area around the coyote but saw nothing else. It didn't look like something natural. Whatever killed it wasn't just hungry—it had been messy, almost careless.
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A knock at the door snapped Charlie back to reality, and he instinctively reached for his revolver. Relaxing slightly, he muttered, "Jed, finally. Took you long enough."
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He strode to the door, unlocked it, and yanked it open. But instead of Jed's grizzled face, there stood Jose, his sly grin almost glowing in the lantern light.
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"Mind if I come in?" Jose asked smoothly, his tone deceptively casual.
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Charlie didn't hesitate. "Yes." He slammed the door shut, putting his weight into it for good measure.
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But it didn't close. Jose's fingers were wedged between the door and the frame, holding it open. Charlie stared, waiting for a yelp of pain or some kind of reaction, but Jose didn't so much as flinch. His grin only widened as he forced the door back open with surprising strength, stepping inside like he owned the place.
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Jose brushed some dust off his coat, looking around. "Nice little setup you got here," he said, his eyes scanning the shelves. "Food, tea… whiskey, even. You sure know how to pick 'em."
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Charlie muttered, "What the hell? I slammed the door on his fingers," his mind raced, spiraling through a mix of confusion and unease.
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How the hell didn't he scream? Didn't even blink… His thoughts churned as he glanced at Jose's hand, expecting to see blood, bruising—something—but there was nothing. Did I imagine it? No, I felt the damn door hit. So how's he actin' like it didn't even happen?
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His eyes flicked up to Jose's face, searching for a wince, a flicker of discomfort, but all he found was that smug, unbothered grin. That ain't natural. Either this bastard's tougher than anyone I've ever met… or there's somethin' seriously wrong with him.
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Charlie's fingers hovered near his holster. Could be he's one of those folks that don't feel pain, but even then… the way he walked in, like he owns the place? Ain't no normal man acts like that.
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A bead of sweat slid down his temple as his unease deepened. Stay calm. Play it cool, he thought, forcing himself to keep his breathing steady. But beneath his calm exterior, a gnawing instinct whispered: This man's dangerous.
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