The sun was high, but Jesse still felt like something was breathing down his neck.
They rode in tense silence, the weight of the old man's words coiling tight around them.
"You took the chest… now the Riders want something back."
Jesse didn't believe in fate. Didn't believe in destiny.
But if what that old bastard said was true, then it didn't matter what he believed. They were running out of time.
And the Riders?
They were just waiting for night to fall.
Cooper kept staring at his arm, watching the black veins shift under his skin like something was moving inside.
Maggie noticed. "You alright?"
He snorted. "Yeah. Great. Just watchin' my own damn body betray me."
Maggie didn't say anything for a second, then muttered, "We'll figure it out."
Cooper gave a dry laugh. "Yeah? And what happens if we don't?"
No one had an answer.
Clint rode up alongside them, his horse kicking up dust. "So what's the plan, Jesse?"
Jesse exhaled, staring out over the horizon. "We find out how to break this before it breaks us."
Zeke frowned. "And where exactly do we find that answer?"
Jesse's jaw tightened. That was the real question.
But then…
A church bell rang.
The gang pulled up to the edge of a small town.
Or what used to be one.
The buildings were abandoned. Windows shattered, wood rotting, sand swallowing up what was left.
But the bell?
It kept ringing.
Jesse exchanged looks with the others. No one liked it.
Clint muttered, "This feels like a damn trap."
Jesse nudged his horse forward. "Only one way to find out."
They rode in slow, weapons ready.
The bell tower loomed above them, the doors to the church swaying open like a mouth waiting to swallow them whole.
Inside?
A single figure stood at the pulpit.
An old preacher, dressed in dusty black, head bowed in silent prayer.
When he finally looked up, Jesse felt a chill.
Because the man's eyes were completely white.
"You've come far," the preacher rasped. "But not far enough."
Jesse kept his voice steady. "You know about the chest?"
The preacher nodded slowly.
"I know of it. I know what it brings." His cloudy eyes flicked between them. "And I know what it will take from you."
Cooper muttered, "We've heard that song before."
The preacher ignored him.
"You seek to break the curse?" he asked.
Jesse's grip on his gun tightened. "That's the idea."
The preacher sighed, stepping closer. "Then listen well, gunslinger. The Riders do not give up their claim easily. You have until the moon rises thrice. After that, you will ride with them. Forever."
A heavy silence settled like a tombstone.
Maggie swallowed. "And how the hell do we stop it?"
The preacher was quiet for a moment. Then he whispered—
"Blood must be spilled… but the right blood."
Jesse frowned. "What does that mean?"
The preacher looked up at him, his white eyes empty and endless.
"You'll know when the time comes."
And just like that—
The bell stopped ringing.
Jesse blinked.
The preacher was gone.
Like he'd never been there in the first place.
The gang left the ghost town faster than they'd come in.
No one spoke.
Zeke was the first to break the silence. "Alright, so, we got three nights before we become undead bounty hunters. That about sum it up?"
Maggie exhaled. "And apparently, we gotta spill blood to stop it."
Cooper scoffed. "Great. Real helpful. Whose blood? Where? How much?!"
Jesse didn't answer.
Because deep down, he had a feeling they weren't going to like the answer.