The engine roared as Jack pegged the throttle. He was going almost thirty on the trail and couldn’t chance looking behind him. It didn’t matter, he could still picture those things. They looked like some monstrous humanoid boars, and they were riding fucking wolves the size of Clydesdales. The pig-men wore what looked like leather armor and held wicked-looking clubs that looked like the biggest bones Jack had ever seen.

  Jack cursed as he squeezed the brake, skidding through the turn, his tires barely staying on the ground. Even as he slid through the turn, he hit the gas, the roar of the engine almost masking the yelp of pain from behind him. Forcing himself to keep his eyes forward, he rocketed down the trail, passing first a comfortable, then the safe speed. As the trees blurred by, he grimaced even as he tried to go faster. He wasn’t about to let monsters from a damn D&D campaign catch him for who knew what.

  A flash of white caught his eye, and his eyes shifted to it. The momentary lapse in focus caused him to narrowly miss the upcoming turn. “SHIIIIIIIIIT!” he screamed as he locked the brake in a death grip, nearly sending him over the bars. Twisting in the vain attempt to turn he skidded on the damp muck and undergrowth the rear wheel slamming into a fallen log sending him flying through some bushes as he rolled on the bouncing a couple times before he hit a blessedly soft embankment splashing wetly into a low spot with a groan.

  He tried to get up, hoping to resume running, when a shadow covered him. Tensing, he felt hot, rancid breath on the back of his neck. He froze and prayed for a quick death when he heard a gruff exchange as two more wolves and their monstrous riders appeared. Soon one of the pig-men hoisted him onto the back of a wolf, ignoring his cry of pain from his battered body as darkness took him.

  ***

  Jack groaned as they hit the final stretch of their four-hour drive. The song ended, and the sound of a service announcement jingled, and a deep voice spoke. “There have been reports of disappearances in the Deer Lake area. For anyone planning a visit, please keep your eyes open and remember there is a curfew in effect. So be inside before sundown.” The announcement repeated a couple more times before the usual disk-jockey announced the next song.

  “Some of the posts about it claimed there are pig-men from Minecraft riding wolves abducting people,” Nate chuckled.

  “Bunch of bull is what it is. Worst case is some crazies wearing masks are running around.” Jack replied. They hit a pothole, and Jack’s head somehow hit the dash…

  ***

  Jolting awake with a start, Jack coughed and gripped his ribs as pain shot through his side. “Ilk te fer hora evadi poti?” an icy voice asked.

  Getting onto his knees, Jack looked around for the source, spotting a man in armor that made him think of the legion armor from Gladiator. The pig-men were kneeling in-front of the man, their wolves lounging nearby.

  “Ilk vigat.” A low growling voice called from behind him. Fighting the urge to look, both from fear of pain and fear of what fresh horror he would find, Jack instead attempted to stand. Only to be forced back to the ground. Jack nearly shat himself when the legionnaire flipped him over and grabbed his face.

  The man forced Jack’s mouth open and examined his teeth. “Dinti ben,” he muttered, moving on to squeezing Jack’s arms and legs, “Luvi et ben muscia,” he continued before grinning. “Ben glator ot labor.” He grunted, obviously pleased.

  Jack found the odd language familiar, like French or Spanish. He did, however recognize the word labor. “You can’t…” He argued only for one of the pig-men to backhand him. “Dominus revei praest!” It barked.

  Jack rolled with the blow, groaning as the stabbing pain in his chest lanced through him. “Pon eum sul luporai et per porta re’tei.” Jack heard, he wasn’t sure who had spoken as the world was spinning.

  Jack was rolled onto his back, lifted and plopped onto the back of one of the giant wolves like a sack of grain. The impact made him cry out, and his vision swam. “Acult au more.” The pig-man grunted as he settled onto the odd steed.

  Jack couldn’t do more than lay there trying to stay quiet as the soft padding from the wolf transferred through him like a thousand needles stabbing into his chest. Moments before the blessed darkness returned, he saw what looked like dirt and tree roots pass by.

  ***

  When he came to next, he was inside some kind of cage, his back leaned up against the bars. The air was noticeably warmer, almost uncomfortably so, compared to the chilly sixty degrees he had grown used to during the past few days he had been up at the cabin. What had once been a chilly wind was now a warm breeze. “They did a number on you, kid.” A gruff voice said from across from him.

  The speaker was a middle-aged man in a cameo-jacket and pants, aside from a bright orange cap. His face was marred by a black eye. “No, I crashed a four-wheeler.” Jack chuckled darkly, wincing as he did. “I was lucky I only got a few scrapes and bruises when I got thrown through the woods.” He said, taking a shallow breath to keep from crying out, “Though it looks like you got clocked, good old man.” His grin was more of a grimace as pain lanced through him with every breath deeper than a pant.

  The man forced a chuckle, and Jack looked around, trying to get his bearings and distract him from the pain. There were around twenty people in the cage with him, a cart, he corrected himself when he saw the shifting landscape beyond the bars. Rather than the hilly wooded terrain of northern Minnesota, he saw almost flat fields of amber grain broken up periodically by what looked like roman era buildings.

  “The name’s Henry.” The old man said. “And are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Jack,” Jack replied, ignoring Henry’s concern. “Any idea where we are? I blacked out when they threw me on one of those giant wolves.”

  “No clue. They forced us through some kind of weird cave, and we came out here.” Henry said.

  “It was a portal, like some kind of anime! I wonder if we will get cool powers like in an Isekai.” An excited teen with a bad case of acne and greasy black hair exclaimed.

  “TAC!” one of the pig-men barked, accentuating the order with a hard wrap on the bars with the bone club it wielded. They all fell silent, the only sounds soft sobs and the clacking of the wheels on what sounded like stone. The only other thing it did was gain the attention of a few legionnaires who were riding what looked like a cross between a horse and a monitor lizard.

  Jack was surprised at how smooth the ride was. He had always thought that riding in carriages and carts was uncomfortable, at least compared to a car, based on the historical fiction he had read. Looking to his left, he saw they were on some kind of road paved with large flat stones.

  That guy was dressed as a Roman, and they were well known for building lasting roads. Could they be an alternate Roman empire? Did we get pulled into the past and we mistook these pig-men for normal pigs? he mused.

  ***

  A few hours later, some of the people facing the front of the cage started muttering and pointing. Following their gaze, Jack saw what looked like a walled city. It reminded him of medieval walls or something he had seen in a movie, though the aqueduct running into the city from the other side seemed to confirm his earlier suspicion. These are Romans, he thought.

  Glancing around, he saw the legionnaires were growing more relaxed while the pig-men were growing more tense. “I think we are either in a parallel world or were brought into the past.” Jack whispered to Henry.

  “Doesn’t matter which we are stuck here unless we can get back through that cave. I’d say we should make the most of whatever they have planned for us,” Henry replied.

  Jack nodded and winced at the action. How the hell does nodding make my chest hurt? He asked himself, then shuddered. Something felt off. He wasn’t sure what, but for a while now he felt more energized, though there was a building pressure in his chest and head. It wasn’t painful yet, but he was worried he might be bleeding internally, and that was causing the odd sensations.

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  “I think I might be more hurt than I thought.” Jack told Henry, describing the feelings he had the best he could.

  “Doesn’t sound like internal bleeding to me, though it definitely doesn’t sound normal. Could be a T.B.I. but without a CT scan, we won’t know what’s going on,” Henry replied, surprising Jack.

  “You a doctor?” He asked.

  “Was a corpsman, picked up a few things in a few of the field hospitals in Iraq.” Henry replied, scooting over to Jack and giving him a once over, lingering on his eyes before doing a quick scan.

  “Let me get a feel.” He said, first checking Jack’s pulse at his corroded before moving on to use both hands to palpate Jack’s neck, chest, and abdomen. Through it all, Jack tried to remain quiet. Only letting out a periodic grunt of pain when Henry found a particular sore spot.

  When he was done, Henry sat back with a sigh. “Well, other than what might be a bruised rib or two, you don’t seem to be worse for wear.” He said.

  “You can tell? I thought you needed a CT scan.” Jack asked, confused.

  “If we wanted to know for sure, we would. All I can say for certain is that you aren’t bleeding into your abdomen. If it gets harder to breathe, let me know. Otherwise, I’m giving you a clean bill of health… well, as good as can be after being thrown from an ATV,” he said.

  “Thanks, Doc.” Jack said, forcing himself to take breaths deeper than a shallow pant. “I think I’m going to stick close to you.”

  ***

  After another hour, they were moving past a line of carts with various goods in what looked like stop and go traffic. The drivers all looked mostly human, though he did notice some of them had animal ears. Jack thought it was an odd fashion accessory until he saw a man with a shaved head and only the one of the feline ears turned, facing toward their group while the man in question kept his head facing forward.

  They passed the man, no one else seeming to notice the oddity. Instead, they seemed to be focused on the large gate growing in the distance. “It looks like it came from an anime…” The weeb gasped.

  Once at the gate, a guard in different colors than the Legionnaires barked, “Conste! Lok kid.” His words were clipped and sounded rehearsed. Even through the language barrier, Jack could hear the boredom.

  One of the men who had been riding next to the carriage replied, “Veni a por quom seve alt par.”

  The city guard looked over to us in the cage and raised an eyebrow before nodding and gesturing for them to go ahead, saying, “Ben. Ingre’tei.”

  “I think that ben is something like, good or yes depending on context, while Tei seems to be move the direction depending on the word it’s attached to.” Jack muttered as he tried to piece together their language from what little he had heard.

  The streets they moved through were paved, though they were stained from dirt, mud, and manure from the animals pulling the carts. It was worst around the gate where the congestion was most pronounced, to the point that the stench was almost overwhelming, distracting Jack from his thoughts. Instead, he focused on what looked like street sweepers. At first he thought they were people like the man earlier wearing masks. But when one spoke to another, he saw the lupine mouth move.

  “Those are beast-kin!” The weeb exclaimed, “We are in an isekai. I’m going to get soo O P and make a harem.”

  Jack shook his head at the boy’s antics. He was delusional if he thought this would end in anything but them being forced into slave labor. He watched as what looked like a group from a furry con swept up the manure and other debris from the street even as more carts and riders passed by, like Sisyphus and his boulder.

  Jack remained quiet, lost in his thoughts until the cart rolled to a stop in front of a large building. Jack realized it was a warehouse when he spotted the large double doors. On either side were a few men wearing what looked like long-sleeved t-shirts and sleeping pants. One of the Legionnaires with a plumed helmet with alternating colors dismounted. He walked over to an older man in much more extravagant clothes and decked out in jewelry.

  After a brief exchange, the older man slapped what must have been a centurion on the shoulder and began leading him into the warehouse. “Ingre’tei.” He barked, one of the workers Jack had spotted earlier grabbing the oxen’s lead while the other opened the double doors.

  Ingre must mean something like inside or here. Jack mused as the cart entered the warehouse. Jack examined his surroundings, seeing that he and Henry were right. The entire warehouse was lined with cages of varying sizes. Inside each were people. Many of the cages held multiples of the same species. Most of the captives looked to be beast-kin, most of those being wolves or rabbits from the little Jack could see.

  The cart came to a stop, and one of the human workers wacked the door, barking, “TEI!” forcing the small group that had been huddling by the door back. Once they were far enough back, the man unlocked the door and held up one finger, then pointed at Jack and said, “Ex’tei.”

  Jack saw a few men in cameo exchange a glance, but before they could cause a problem, he moved and said, “Ben.”

  The guard raised an eyebrow and, keeping his eyes on Jack and the others in the cage, shouted over his shoulder. “Brutus, sig hoc ecerta lingu.” It was then that Jack noticed a man dressed in robes rather than a tunic and pants holding what looked like several wooden tablets bound at the top with what looked like leather.

  The man replied in a bored tone, “Aud.” Before making notes on the tablet. Focusing back to the worker at the door, he saw he was pointing off to the side where a guard and, what Jack assumed was another scribe were waiting beside a pair of beast-kin. One looked to be holding a rough-spun fabric, the other with a bucket and a cleaning brush.

  “Ile’tei.” The guard barked, growing impatient, his arm still pointing the same way.

  “Aud.” Jack replied, copying the word the scribe used. It sounded like the beginning of audio. The guard grinned at that and nodded.

  Henry went to follow behind Jack only for the guard to stop him by putting his cudgel between Henry and the exit. “Spec hoc.” He said when Henry didn’t back up, brandishing the cudgel in obvious threat.

  Jack had stopped and turned to Henry, saying, “I think he wants you to wait. Say Aud and wait your turn.” Jack said, mouthing the words Please, Henry, when the retired corpsman gritted his teeth.

  After a tense moment, Henry said, “Aud,” and moved back. The tension dissipated and moved to the beast-kin with the brush and bucket. Jack hoped he was wrong about what they would have him do until the guard tapped a wooden sign previously hidden by the beast kin. It depicted a figure disrobing followed by being scrubbed, dried and handed fresh clothes.

  “Aud,” Jack said as he slowly began to strip, grimacing as he slowly pulled first the sweatshirt then T-shirt over his head. During the process, the scribe circled him and jotted down notes. The tablet in question looked to be wax or something like it, framed in wood rather than just a wooden board like he first thought. When he noticed Jack had stopped disrobing, he twirled the sharpened stick he was using to scratch into the wax. Jack got the message and dropped his pants and boxers, carefully stepping out of them.

  “Erral, fer medi potiem.” The scribe barked. A rabbit-kin, holding what Jack figured would be his towel, bowed and tossed the cloth into a crate nearby and took off fast enough to leave an afterimage. Moments later, they had returned with a vial filled with a crimson liquid that somehow had golden flecks of light and shadow drifting lazily within.

  The rabbit-kin offered Jack the vial while nervously looking between Jack and the scribe. Jack gingerly took it, examining the liquid up close, tilting it around, and even holding it up to a window that was letting in sunlight. “Bib.” The scribe said, getting Jack’s attention. Once Jack looked his way, the scribe mimed downing the liquid like a test-tube shot. Shrugging, and not wanting to anger his host, Jack carefully pulled out the stopper and upended the contents into his throat.

  He was glad he did, as what little of the liquid touched his tongue almost made him empty his stomach. It tasted like bitter sewage that had baked in the sun for a week. He kept it down somehow but dropped the vial in the process. He barely registered the rabbit-kin’s hand lancing out and snatching the vial only moments after he dropped it.

  When he righted himself, he watched as the scribe made notes and poked at Jack’s injured ribs. Jack shifted out of the way only to be surprised that the ever-present pain since his accident was gone. He didn’t have long to enjoy it as the beast-kin with the brush began scrubbing him, starting at his back and moving on to scrub every inch of him, even places Jack swore the brush wouldn’t be able to reach.

  Near the end of the process, the scribe muttered, “Bene, bene.” Before gesturing to the other slave, who stepped forward, and began rubbing him down with the thin, rough-spun cloth before handing him what looked like a burlap sack with holes for his head and arms. Jack hesitated a moment before putting on the itchy garment. Usually, he would have tried to think about anything but how uncomfortable it was, but focusing on that helped him block out the sobs from the others undergoing the same treatment he was. Turning to the guard, Jack asked, “Tei?”

  The guard looked at him for a moment, his face a mask of bored indifference, before turning to a nearby cage mostly filled with lupine beast-kin, all of whom had mottled gray fur. Once he entered the cage, he also spotted what looked like a cat-kin with calico coloration huddled in the corner. Opposite the Wolf-kin. Moving opposite the cat-kin, Jack sat though this time he meditated hoping he could center himself enough to get to sleep.

  To his surprise, once he began looking inward, it was almost like he could feel something flowing through him. Focusing on the feeling, he noticed what, to him, seemed like crimson energy flecked with golden light congealing around his ribs and what he thought was one of his lungs. As he continued to focus, he saw that there was another energy flowing around the crimson one, sometimes taking small pieces away, other times bolstering the congealed energy. After what, to him, seemed like only a few moments, the feeling of warmth and fur on his right side brought him back to his surroundings.

  He spotted a furry white triangle just as something tickled his nose. Pulling back, he banged his head on the bars, earning a giggle from the cat-kin, who had practically crawled into his lap. “Who are you?” Jack asked. Only getting a head tilt in response.

  Trying another tact, he put his hand on his chest and said, “Jack,” then gestured to them and tilted his head in the same questioning way the cat-kin had.

  The cat-kin’s head tilted the other way before leaning back, placing a hand on their chest, mimicking Jack and said, “Merrow,” before placing that hand on Jack saying “Jack.” Then, curling up against him in a warm purring mass of fur. The action made Jack smile despite his situation. Deciding to hold on to that warmth he gently wrapped his arms around the cat and drifted off to sleep.