As George held the door open, Charlie leaned in, his expression shifting as he asked, "You wouldn't happen to have seen a man, maybe… blonde hair?" His voice was tentative, as though he were trying to paint a picture from memory that kept slipping through his fingers.
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Jed snorted under his breath, leaning toward Charlie with a smirk. "Blonde hair, huh? Reckon half the folks out here got a good chance at that description, boy. Probably need a tad more detail."
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Charlie shot Jed an exasperated look before turning back to George. "Right. I mean, he's… Mexican, I think? But I… uh, kinda forgot what he was wearing," he admitted, a little sheepish.
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George scratched his chin thoughtfully, but his eyes were calm, distant, like they were watching clouds pass. "Can't say I've seen anyone like that pass by here. Not recently, anyhow," he replied with a gentle shake of his head. He didn't seem fazed, but there was a flicker in his eyes—a brief hint of something unreadable.
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"Now, why don't you two come in and sit a spell? I got stew on the fire. It's no trouble to share a meal."
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Jed raised a hand in polite refusal. "Much obliged, sir, but we're just passing through. Won't be takin' up any more of your time."
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"Oh, nonsense," George insisted, his smile stretching a bit wider, though his tone was as soft as before. "It's not every day I get visitors out here. Besides, you two look like you could use a hot meal."
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Jed exchanged a reluctant look with Charlie, whose own gaze was hopeful, hungry even. With a slow sigh, Jed nodded, muttering, "Reckon if you're sure, I won't turn down a warm meal."
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Charlie grinned, and they both followed George into the modest cabin, its interior sparse but surprisingly well-kept. As they took a seat, George moved with a quiet efficiency, ladling out portions of stew into worn ceramic bowls. He moved slowly, deliberate, his hands steady, and something about him made Jed's cynical side sit up and take notice.
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"So, George," Jed started, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. "What's a man like you doin' out here all alone? Not many folks choose a life that close to the middle of nowhere."
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George looked up, eyes glinting with a hint of something more than politeness—almost amusement. "Oh, you know. Some men are called to different paths," he said, voice smooth, like he was reciting a practiced line. "I find peace here, away from the noise of towns, away from… people's pryin' eyes."
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Charlie, halfway through a spoonful, glanced up. "Doesn't it get lonely? Not havin' anyone around to talk to?"
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A brief shadow crossed George's face, but it vanished quickly, replaced by his easygoing smile. "Sometimes, I suppose. But solitude can be a gift, too. Allows a man to think, clear his mind, maybe… even see things clearer than he could among the crowd."
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Jed raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of the stew, eyes never leaving George. "Sounds almost like you're hidin' from somethin'," he drawled. "World has a way of catching up with men who think they can outrun it."
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George chuckled softly, his gaze resting on Jed for a beat too long. "Or maybe it's the world that's trying to outrun me. Ever think of it that way?" His tone was polite, but there was an edge, like he was holding something back. "Sometimes, a man finds himself in a place like this not because he's hiding but because he's waiting."
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Jed's jaw tightened slightly. "Waitin' for what, exactly?"
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George only shrugged, his smile never quite reaching his eyes. "The right time. Or maybe… the right people."
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Charlie looked between the two men, sensing the tension but not quite grasping it. "Well, you got some company now, George," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "Even if it's just for a meal."
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George's gaze flickered, softening just a bit. "Indeed," he murmured, almost to himself. "And for now,I reckon that's more than enough." Jed and Charlie walked in George was already cooking food and still is as he heads back to finish the food Charlie and Jed says down
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Jed leaned in close to Charlie, his voice low and almost playful, though his eyes held a sharper glint. "Boy, take a look over there at that shelf."
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Charlie squinted, unsure. "What? The books?"
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Jed sighed, giving a small, amused shake of his head. "Not the books, son. Under 'em. You see it?"
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Charlie leaned in, glancing toward the dusty corner Jed indicated, then sucked in a quiet breath as he spotted the edge of a trapdoor. "Why would he have that…?"
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Jed's voice barely carried above a whisper. "I'd wager he's got more down there than old cookbooks. Saw bits of blood near the table where he's fixin' our stew, too. Blood by the house. Can't be coincidences—not with the way he talks and moves."
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Charlie's gaze darted back to George, who was stirring the pot with a calmness that almost seemed practiced, his gaze far away, like he wasn't entirely in the room. He nodded slowly, trying to match Jed's careful tone. "Alright, alright… I believe you. And that bag he keeps real close? I keep wondering what he's hiding in there."
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Jed scratched at his chin, grimacing. "Look, kid, we might just have to deal with him. If he's the reason Jose's horse is out there alone, then he might've done the same to Jose—and he sure as hell might do it to us next."
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Charlie swallowed, steeling himself. "Yeah, no doubt we have to. No sense waitin' around for him to try something."
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Jed smirked at the boy's resolve. "Course you'd agree with that. You always had a knack for findin' trouble."
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Just as Jed finished speaking, George turned around, holding out two bowls of stew with a calm, almost serene smile. He placed them on the table, then sat across from them, folding his hands with a quiet dignity. "Well, go on, eat up. It's been simmering all day, should be just right."
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Charlie forced a grin, stirring his stew but glancing over the bowl's edge, watching George closely.
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Sensing the tension, George tilted his head slightly, his gaze patient. "You boys look uneasy. Life on the trail can do that to a man, keep him looking over his shoulder. But sometimes, peace only comes when we release those fears. That's what the ancient Stoics believed, at least," he said, almost to himself. "A mind free of fear can accept whatever comes next—no need for constant fightin' and worryin'. You've heard of ataraxia, I'd bet? A life without disturbance?"
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Jed chuckled, dark and dry, leaning back as he held George's gaze. "Ataraxia, huh? That's a mighty high-minded way of sayin' 'sit quiet and accept what comes.' But sometimes, old man, peace is just a word folks use to keep others from askin' too many questions."
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George raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing at his lips. "Ah, you're more perceptive than most. True peace, ataraxia, is hard to come by out here. But it's possible. And sometimes, to achieve it, a man has to make difficult choices… like living alone, away from the noise, away from those who might wish him harm."
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Charlie's grip on his spoon tightened, and he shot a quick look at Jed. There was an edge to George's tone now, a subtle weight in his words.
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"So, George," Jed said slowly, letting his voice take on a darker tone, "don't suppose you've seen anyone else come by recently? Maybe a fella named Jose?"
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George's eyes glinted, but his expression stayed calm. "I can't say I have. Though if I had, perhaps I'd be wiser to keep that knowledge close. Not every truth is worth sharing."
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Jed held George's gaze for a long moment, unblinking. "Funny, I'd say every truth's got a way of crawlin' out sooner or later. Guess we'll see which way it goes tonight."
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George only smiled, a faint, unsettling calm settling over him. "In that case, gentlemen, perhaps we should raise a toast—to whatever may come."
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Charlie leaned back, squinting at George with a sly, skeptical smile. "Say, George, what's in the bag?"
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George glanced over, his expression unreadable as his gaze lingered on the worn leather bag. A strange light flashed in his eyes, and he let out a low chuckle. "Oh, that? Well, I'll tell you," he said slowly, almost savoring each word. "But first, let me show you something." He reached inside the bag and pulled out a few jagged shards of broken glass, setting them carefully on the table. From another pocket, he retrieved a handful of ants, which he gently placed on the glass shards.
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Charlie's eyes widened. "What in tarnation…?"
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George's voice took on a quiet, almost eerie tone as he watched the ants scurry across the glass. "Ants… remarkable little things. They communicate, cooperate, solve problems together. Each one alone ain't much, but together, they're almost like one mind, moving as one."
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Jed tilted his head, a glint of dark humor in his eye. "Well, ain't that heartwarming. So we got ourselves a lesson in bug science?"
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George ignored him, staring at the ants with an unsettling intensity. "Did you know that ants can't hear, not like we do? They feel. Vibrations, like the beatin' of a heart or the hum of somethin' alive." He looked up, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Why don't you reach out and touch one?"
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Jed and Charlie exchanged uneasy glances, but curiosity got the best of them. Hesitantly, they reached forward, their fingers brushing against the ants.
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In an instant, sharp, burning pain shot through their arms as tiny shards of glass embedded themselves into their skin. "Argh!" they both cried out, jerking back as blood began to bead along the cuts.
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George watched them, an unsettling smile spreading across his face. "See, that glass—it'll work its way to your heart soon enough. But that's just the beginning. I've got something else here." He lifted his hand, and a swarm of insects seemed to appear from nowhere, crawling along his arms and over the table, surrounding the glass shards and moving toward Jed and Charlie.
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"Damn it, George, what the hell're you talkin' about?" Jed growled, clutching his bleeding arm, his face twisted in pain and confusion.
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George took a slow step back, reaching into his bag again and pulling out a glowing crystal that cast an unnatural, holy light across the room. He held it up, a sinister pride in his eyes. "This crystal—it's given me a gift. The power to call upon these little creatures to do my bidding. I can make them fuse things together, bring in objects that'll merge with skin or bone, make nightmares part of your very body."
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Charlie, pale and breathing heavily, managed to choke out, "The crystal? I thought that thing was hidden away in Mexico."
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George's eyes narrowed, his smile turning cold. "Oh, so you know about it, huh? There's a man downstairs who does, too. Seems this little trinket brings together those who know its secret."
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Jed tightened his grip on his arm, muttering to Charlie, "Listen, boy, we gotta move now." Then, with a swift motion, he raised his gun, aiming it at his own arm. "Bang!" The gunshot rang out, and blood splattered as the impact forced the glass shards from his skin. "Charlie, do it—now!"
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Charlie winced but nodded, lifting his own gun and firing into his arm. "Bang!" The shards fell free, and he gasped in relief, his arm still trembling from the pain.
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But George's laughter filled the air, low and menacing. "It's too late! You think you can stop what's already in motion?" The room seemed to darken as more insects poured from the bag, filling the air in a buzzing, crawling mass. Jed and Charlie, reacting in a flash, scrambled up onto the wooden table, panting as they kept their eyes locked on the swarm crawling below. The bugs spread out like a dark, writhing carpet on the floor, their tiny bodies glinting in the dim light as they scuttled closer, mandibles clicking.
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"Well, ain't this cozy," Jed muttered, wiping blood from his arm. He let out a breathless chuckle, though his face was tense. "We're like two squirrels treed by a damn pack of coyotes." Charlie's eyes darted around the room, the dark swarm spreading across the floor like a tide of tiny soldiers. He glanced at Jed, then back toward the door that George had disappeared through.
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"Uncle Jed, we have to get that damn crystal," he whispered urgently. "I didn't think we'd actually find it this quick."
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Jed grimaced, his face a mix of frustration and wry amusement. "Oh, we found it all right, but now we're knee-deep in bugs and bad decisions. So unless you got a genius plan to walk us outta here on air, I'd suggest keeping that head down."
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Before Charlie could respond, there was a loud, relentless banging from the trapdoor. The sound echoed through the room, building to a crescendo as something heavy smashed against it. Then, with a groan, the trapdoor lurched open, pushing aside the bookshelf above it.
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A figure clawed his way up—Jose. His face was streaked with blood, his eyes cold and calculating even as he crawled atop the bookshelf and lay there for a moment, panting. He looked like he'd been through hell, but his eyes betrayed no hint of fear or pain, just an unyielding, venomous resolve.
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Charlie aimed his gun at Jose, fingers steady but his breath hitched. "Jed, I got a clear shot. We don't know what he's after, but I don't trust him."
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Jed's hand shot out, gripping Charlie's arm firmly. "Forget him, kid. We don't have time to be picking fights. We need to get the hell outta here before we're bug chow."
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Charlie shot Jed a skeptical glance, then muttered under his breath, "remember what I said, Jed.
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Jose, smirking despite the blood trickling down his face, raised his head just enough to glare at them, his voice a rasp yet edged with cruel amusement. "Quit squabbling, you two. If you want out of here alive, you'll kick that candle next to you. Now."
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Jed narrowed his eyes at Jose, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, and why should we trust the guy who just came crawlin' up here lookin' like he lost a fistfight with a porcupine?"
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Jose's lips curled into a sneer as he sat up, one hand pressing against his bleeding side. "You don't have to trust me, old man. But you'd be a damn fool not to listen. Those bugs? They're drawn to the light. Blow out that candle, and they'll disperse enough for you to make a break for it."
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Jed glanced at the candle, then back at Jose, who was watching them with a mixture of disdain and anticipation, like a wolf daring them to take the bait.
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Charlie's grip tightened on his gun, still aimed at Jose. "Why the hell would you help us?"
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Jose let out a dry, humorless chuckle, his gaze icy. "Help you? Don't kid yourself, kid. I just don't want you idiots slowing me down when I make my own exit. Now, do as I said, or enjoy gettin' swarmed. Your choice."
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Jed let out a long sigh, his tone both annoyed and begrudgingly impressed. "Hate to say it, but he's got a point, Charlie. Kick the damn candle." As Charlie's boot connected with the candle, it didn't just snuff out; instead, it tumbled and skidded across the floor, rolling into a pile of dusty old books. The flame licked the dry pages for a split second before a fiery blaze began spreading with alarming speed.
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"Damn it, Charlie!" Jed cursed as the flames erupted, casting flickering shadows around the room. The bugs recoiled momentarily from the fire, skittering away from the spreading heat.
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Charlie looked at Jed, wide-eyed. "You told me to kick it! Now the whole damn place is goin' up."
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Jed didn't even break his stride, grabbing Charlie by the shoulder and pushing him toward the door. "We'll have that conversation later. Right now, we got a house full of bugs, fire, and that snake Jose on our tail. Let's move before we're trapped in this damn tinderbox."
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As they sprinted for the door, they heard a groan of effort and turned to see Jose climbing down from the bookshelf. His face was twisted in a mix of frustration and seething anger, but the glint in his eyes was that of a man who wasn't giving up easily.
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The flames were spreading fast, crackling along the walls, and the heat was already becoming unbearable. Smoke began to curl through the room, filling the air with a choking haze.
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Jose staggered, half-coughing, his voice hoarse as he sneered at them, "You two are just full of bright ideas, aren't you? If you plan on setting yourselves on fire, don't expect me to stick around and watch."
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Charlie took aim at Jose again, his finger hovering over the trigger, but Jed held up a hand, his voice a low warning. "Don't waste a bullet on him, kid. Fire'll do the job just fine."
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Ignoring them, Jose stumbled toward the window, looking for any way out. But as he passed them, he paused just long enough to mutter with a cold smirk, "If you two live through this, consider it a miracle. Now get out of my way."
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Jed snorted, a bitter chuckle escaping him. "One hell of a survival instinct for a guy that's bleedin' all over the place."
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They didn't waste another second. Jed and Charlie bolted down the hallway, dodging falling embers and flaming debris as the fire tore through the old wood. The bugs, in utter disarray, scattered away from the flames, but in their panic, they were everywhere, crawling up walls and spilling across the floor.
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They reached the front door, the heat licking at their backs. Charlie glanced back, squinting through the smoke to see Jose making his way out through a shattered window, blood trailing behind him. Jed grabbed Charlie's shoulder, pulling him forward.
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"Don't look back. He made his choice, and so did we."
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As they stumbled out of the burning house and into the open air, gasping for breath, Charlie looked at Jed, a mix of awe and irritation. "We were supposed to grab the crystal, Jed."
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Jed leaned on his knees, catching his breath with a weary grin. "Hell, we'll get it. But let's do it without turnin' into barbecue, alright?"
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