The white moon and the yellow star traversed the sky at their respective arcs nearly twenty times. There was little water left, and the rations had long since run out. The horses, for some reason, still had plenty of feed in the cart.

  “I am hungry, Jeb,” Raul said, sarcasm dripping from his words.

  “Really? We just ate,” Jeb replied, taking a small sip from his water bag.

  In the distance, there were a couple of trees, and beyond that seemed to be... nothing. Looking around, Jeb seemed to be getting annoyed. The same thing every day: sand, dirt, spiders, and scorpions.

  “Are we certain this is the right direction?” It was a hesitant question. He didn’t want to offend his friend.

  Raul pointed. “Those mountains are my mountains.”

  “Those mountains don’t seem to get any bigger with the passing days.” Jeb looked around again. The wind seemed to be picking up. “Sandstorm?” he asked. They’d had a few of them, not too bad. Raul said the worst could take the skin from your flesh.

  Raul looked around, noticing the wind. “Could be.” He was nodding. “Those trees up there might be of use.” He would have redirected the animals, but they seemed to already be heading in the right direction.

  Several more minutes passed, and the trees came into full view. Twelve palm trees seemed to have been planted in a neat circle, with only a few feet between them. Sand seemed to be piled up more on one side of the circle of trees than the others—the same side the wind seemed to be coming from, the east.

  In the center of the trees was blackened ground and what looked like the lid to a pot, facing down a few steps away from the "fireplace."

  “Seems like we’re not the first here,” Jeb pointed out.

  Nodding, Raul replied, “Yes, I believe this is a travel haven. Known for the trees to protect from wind and sand.” He jumped from the cart and began stretching his legs. Then he guided the horses into the small circle, placing the cart on the eastern side for a bit more protection from the wind.

  While Raul handled the animals and the cart, Jeb inspected the fireplace. With his toe, he kicked the lid to the side and found a hole, not too large, maybe a hand span wide, in the ground. It was deep enough that he could not see the bottom.

  “One of those burrowing spiders?” he asked Raul, pointing at the hole. Raul tied off the horses and wiped his hands together, cleaning off the feed and water remains.

  “No, I don’t think so. The dirt around the hole is too hard. This was dug. Besides, the flat lid was on top of it.” Raul fished out some cord, tied a weight to it, and threw it down the hole. It went only an arm's length. Bouncing the weight up and down confirmed nothing living was there. It did make an odd sound, though. “Not dirt or sand at the bottom. And nothing scurried out.”

  Jeb was a bit nervous; Raul had talked for days about the different animals that could kill you on this world: large spiders, scorpions, insects with hundreds of legs, on and on. He did not want to stick his arm in this hole.

  Raul began to laugh, noticing Jeb’s hesitation. “Are you scared of a hole?” He laughed harder and harder.

  “No,” Jeb said, more sullen than he’d like to admit. He knelt down and plunged his hand into the hole. His fingers caught something. He grabbed it with bated breath and pulled it up.

  A brown paper bag rested in Jeb's hand. Inside was something soft.

  Well, that’s unexpected, Jeebz mentioned.

  Agreed. I doubt a paper bag exists on this planet. Jeb answered back.

  “What is it?” Raul asked.

  “It appears to be some kind of sack or bag.” Jeb put the bag on the ground, pulled out a small knife, and began unfolding the bag to gain access. Soon the bag lay on the ground with its opening pointing up. Inside were two sandwiches, wrapped in some kind of clear substance.

  Plastic, food grade. Jeebz confirmed.

  Trap? Jeb queried.

  Most likely. You would have to reveal the food and let me analyze it before consuming it, Jeebz replied.

  “What is that shiny clear stuff?” Raul asked.

  “I’m not sure,” lied Jeb. He knew what it was, and the idea that it was a sandwich was quite odd. Sandwiches were, well, they were for Sacs, but they are a product of technology: cut loaves of bread into thin squares, cheese, sliced meats after compression, some kind of layering to help with the flavor and dryness of bread. Sometimes vegetables.

  He retrieved the sandwiches, which were two in number, and set them on the ground. He used the knife to slice into the thin plastic wrapping the sandwich and then held his nose to the opening.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Analyzing, Jeebz commented. After a few moments, the A.I. replied with a report. No poison detected. There seemed to be confusion.

  Raul watched him. He hadn’t touched his yet, though his stomach began to rumble, the body noticing the available food.

  Jeb looked around some more. The sensation and reality of this were very strange. Very unexpected. Very… weird, Jeebz interjected.

  Yes, weird. I don’t trust it.

  “As well you shouldn’t,” shot a voice from just outside the tree line. The timing of the comment was uncanny.

  Both Raul and Jeb stood quickly, hands going to their weapons. They quickly found the source of the voice: a small man in gray robes, the hood up protecting him from the increased wind and sand from the east.

  Jeb motioned for Raul to get on top of the cart. “Look around. Yeah?” he whispered to Raul. Raul nodded and leapt off to find his perch on the cart.

  The old man made his way gently past the trees and then politely stopped and waited.

  Jeb eyed the man for a bit. Weapons? he asked Jeebz.

  No weapons detected. No metal, Jeebz answered.

  The old man smiled, taking a quick glance at Raul, who was scanning the horizons.

  “I am unarmed. Just old and in need of some food and water, much like you,” he said to Jeb, but loud enough for Raul to hear as well.

  “Odd place for an old man to be wandering about,” Jeb said, to which Raul grunted his agreement.

  “Oh, well, I am traveling.” The old man indicated with his hands if he could sit near the firepit. Jeb stepped to the side and signaled that it was okay, but he did not sit and kept his senses alert.

  “Yes, yes. It was wise of you not to eat these. They are poisoned—not to kill, but enough to put you into a deep sleep.” He dropped the sandwiches back into the hole and put the lid on top. The wood across the firepit, which seemed burned and scorched, he moved aside, revealing another hole. “I believe this would be more to our liking, yes?” He withdrew another bag, which also contained sandwiches. This time, there were three.

  Jeb found this all too much. Raul found himself staring hungrily. The old man calmly unwrapped his sandwich, watching Jeb and Raul, as he ate.

  Raul jumped down and hesitantly passed Jeb to the old man. Kneeling down, he grabbed a sandwich and spent some time unwrapping the thin plastic, which had no place on this world.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” the old man asked.

  “No.” It was an odd statement. It wasn’t quite an answer to the old man. It was an answer to the man, but not just the man. It was an answer to this whole situation.

  Again, he said it, “No,” but this time it was louder. There was more of a statement, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was. But there was a finality to it, like unbending armor.

  The sandwich in Raul’s hand, the one he had just unwrapped from the ungodly sticky plastic, the one that was about to enter his mouth, vanished from his hands, as did the rest of the scene.

  What replaced it was a tunnel of rock and dirt, the smell of slight dankness, moisture unmoving. The entrance was not too far but around a bend, putting the entire space into shadow.

  The old man sat cross-legged on a large, flat rock, smiling as though he alone understood the joke.

  Jeb’s sword was in his hand faster than the sandwich had vanished, its blade pointing at the old man’s chest. His eyes squinted in the shadows, his ears straining for more sound, but his blade was steady.

  Raul looked at his hands, shaken, then blinked around at the new surroundings. His mind was trying to rationalize the irrational.

  “You have very little time to explain,” Jeb said through gritted teeth.

  “Ho ho ho!” The man lightly hopped off his rock and shook his weathered robes to length. “I assume you would strike down an old man?”

  “Without hesitation.” Jeb’s blade did not lose its target.

  “Well, you must be hungry.” The man turned and headed deeper into the cave. A small lantern pulled from his robes, and he lit it with a match, which Jeebz identified as a bar of magnesium. “Come, come. Let’s eat and drink real water.”

  The air was cold and wet as they went deeper into the cave. Soon they found themselves in a large bowl-like cavern with a hole in the roof, illuminating several pieces of furniture, a small bed of hay, and what looked to be several large flat rocks around a clear pond.

  “Welcome to my home,” the man said. “I don’t get many visitors anymore, but you are welcome.” His back was facing the point of Jeb’s blade.

  “Scan the room, Raul. Look in the shadows.” He wanted to poke the old man into the room, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  As they entered the cavern deeper, Raul came back and shook his head. Jeb nodded and put his attention fully on this oddity.

  “Okay, speak,” Jeb commanded the old man.

  Slowly, the old man clambered up onto a nearby flattish rock and eased the folds of his robes about him. He seemed to fit there, comfortable, easing himself into a nice position. Finally, his attention was placed on the two men.

  “What is it that you would like to know?” he asked them. The light from his lantern seemed to flicker about, though there was no wind. He pulled a sandwich out from his robes and began to take small bites out of it while waiting patiently.

  “What do you mean ‘what I would like to know?’!” Jeb was angry. He was also still confused. Entering the cavern deeper, Jeebz had mentioned that there were possibly drugs in the sandwich and that he had eaten it and was now hallucinating. “The damn desert disappeared!”

  “Ah, that. Well, yes, the desert did disappear, I guess you could say.” He took another bite, then rubbed some crumbs from his lips. The thin plastic bag lay to his side, a detail Jeb had just noticed. “I guess another way of asking this would be, ‘was it ever there in the first place?’” Another nibble.

  It was hard not to run this man through. It was also hard to focus. He was so tired and hungry.

  “Would you like a sandwich?” The old man pulled out another two sandwiches wrapped in the same plastic. “And some water.” He pointed at a jug near the small ramshackle writing table.

  Raul eyed the sandwich, unconsciously licking his lips. Jeb found his body also desiring the food.

  “Answers first,” he said, addressing both of them.

  “Very well. The desert was there. Then it wasn’t.” He raised a finger. “However, perception is reality. And what the mind receives, it tends to have an unfortunate tendency to accept as a communicated reality.” He was having a hard time chewing while talking.

  “That’s more of a riddle than an answer,” Jeb snapped. “What happened? What did you do? Is this some kind of a sim—” Jeb cut off. He was about to say simulation but couldn’t reveal any realities to the prisoners. “Some kind of magic?” Maybe they’d buy the hocus pocus. This was a primitive world.

  “Ho ho! Magic. Well. That could be. Yes, I suppose it could be defined as such.” He placed the sandwiches on the rock for the two men to pick up.

  Jeb glanced at Raul, who seemed to be staring at this old man, squinting in the dim light. “What is it, Raul?”

  He didn’t acknowledge Jeb. Instead, he took a step forward. “Bleek, is that you?”

  The old man smiled. “Yes, it’s me, Raul. It’s been some years. You are no longer a little boy. Many years.”