"I'm... Joe... Did you just say cavalry?" Joe asked. "You saying you from the army? That a ceremonial outfit or something?"

The rider hadn't heard, though, as more strangers started arriving from left and right. And strange strangers they were, between the odd clothing of the dark haired pair and... Was that a bleeding samurai?!

Joe clambered out of the crate and looked back. The old busted pickup had made the journey too, cinderblocks and all. But the sand was largely pristine, nothing that indicated how it had been moved.

He sunk to his knees. "Must be opium," he muttered. "Somehow someone gave me a fucking sky high dose of fucking poppies and I'm hallucinating. All this is a dream." He thrust his hand into the sand. He could feel the grains on his skin, felt the warmth, how it was slightly cooler a few inches down. "A really, really, really vivid fucking dream."

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