Chapter 2: Prey

It was like changing the channel on the TV. There was no wild, tingly sensation, no thrilling ride through a winding prismatic wormhole. It was like switching from a crime drama to a fantasy anime.

But Zack had realized this was much more than TV. Not only had the picture and sound changed but also so had the smell and temperature. It was now hot and humid. The pungent smell of oil and metal and a few other things Zack couldn't identify assaulted his nostrils. A dim haze of smog was pushed along by a soft breeze. Zack focused in on the smog for a brief second before looking at the bigger picture before him.

There was trash… and junk as far as the eye could see. A few things were recognizable: cars, washing machines, television sets, a portable safe, and a radar dish. But there were other things Zack didn't recognize. Most things sported some variation on the color rust (if one could consider rust to be a color). At any rate he was certain he had been teleported into a junkyard.

"Teleported… I was teleported…. Holy shit! It is a portal!" Zack turned around. The wavy blue mass hanging in the air suddenly diminished in size until the humming noise it made ceased and it disappeared completely from sight.

"Oh… fuck." Zack walked through the space where the portal had been. Nothing happened.

I'm trapped. I can't go back! Dammit, why am I so stupid? Maybe the portal will show up again if I just wait? Or maybe it's a one-way portal and I can't go back anyway? Why did I do that? What the fuck is wrong with me?

Zack was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a noise. It wasn't just any random noise. It sounded like someone moving.

"Hello? Is somebody there?" Zack thought that was a stupid thing to say. But what was someone supposed say the first time they get sucked into some alternate dimension/realm?

Zack started moving towards where he thought he heard the sound.

It might not even be a person. What if there are no humans here at all? What if it's some kind of monster that's going to eat me?

As he walked, Zack noticed a lot of the cars lying around were clearly from different time eras. Some looked like they were from the 1920s, others from the 1940s. A few cars he recognized from the 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s. There were even a few cars that looked like they were from the future.

I need to stop looking at the damn cars and pay attention to that person sneaking around, Zack had to mentally remind himself. It wasn't really fair that he had to go looking for someone who wouldn't show themselves. He had only just arrived in this new world and he couldn't get a small break to take in all the scenery before being worried about being killed or eaten or some equally horrible thing. Life wasn't fair.

"How the fuck did that get here?" Zack stopped when he saw what looked to him to be a Greek trireme. In many ways it was weirder to see the ancient boat… even when compared to some of the others things he couldn't even identify.

He looked around again, almost losing track of where the sound had come from. The air had some sort of dirty yellow hue to it, probably not safe to breathe in. Then another potential problem crossed Zack's mind. What if the air isn't safe to breathe? He was breathing the air right now, so at the very least the environment had to be similar to Earth's or he would have suffocated by now. But that didn't mean the air wasn't toxic and would slowly kill him over time. There wasn't much Zack could do about it. The portal was gone and there didn't seem to be any buildings he could take refuge in, just lots of junk and scrap metal.

Zack kept walking. The possibility that this was all a dream was starting to seem less and less likely. Besides the obvious fact that this felt real to Zack and didn't feel like a dream, it was taking too long. Dreams didn't take this long, and they tended to bounce around with time skips. Everything here was too consistent to be a dream. Zack kicked a bent tin can in his way and it skittered across the ground: cause and effect. Dreams didn't usually follow the normal rules of cause and effect. What ultimately convinced Zack this wasn't a dream was the fact that the whole situation was less fucked up than most dreams he had.

Zack rounded the corner of a car and saw… no one. He was so sure he had heard someone over here. Guess not, Zack shrugged.

Zack heard footsteps coming up from behind him. He turned around just in time to see a human…

And suddenly there was pain.

The pain was real… very real. It hurt worse than anything Zack could remember. The pain pulsing across his face was crystal clear and sharp as a knife. It was far too real for Zack to entertain the possibility that this was all some sort of dream. Dreams didn't hurt this badly.

Zack only realized he had fallen to the ground after the man picked him up by the neck. A double-sided axe came within a hair's breath of Zack's face. Zack vaguely remembered the pommel of the axe had just been used to smash in his face. At least the guy hadn't used the sharp end.

"You're wasting your time. I don't have anything." Zack managed to focus through the pain enough to say something. He figured this was a mugging, and the mugger was going to be very disappointed.

The man started to laugh. "We want you."

"What?"

Zack heard more footsteps but he couldn't tell how many others were now surrounding him. Not that it mattered; it had only taken one guy to take him down.

Another voice spoke. "We're slavers. What, are you stupid or somethin'?"

"Maybe." Zack thought he might as well try the stupid card. Maybe there was a chance they didn't want stupid slaves. Though his answer came across more smartass than stupid.

"You better hope you're not. The dumb ones don't last too long."

So much for that idea, Zack thought. It's not like he expected acting dumb would save him. He couldn't exactly think up any better ideas, not out of nowhere and with no time to think.

Manacles were slapped on his wrists and the men started searching him for any items of value. When Zack had gotten home, he put all his belongings away before turning on the television and then jumping through the portal, so Zack literally had nothing but the clothes on his back. He didn't even have his wallet or keys on him.

"Damn. He was tellin' the truth. He doesn't have anything."

"Doesn't matter. We're slavers, not scavengers. Hook him up to the girl."

"Wish they were all this easy." One of the slavers hooked up Zack's chains to those of a woman. From what Zack could tell she looked Native American.

The woman only gave Zack a quick glance.

"All right, move it!" The slaver gave Zack a shove, prompting both prisoners to start moving.

Zack was quiet for a few minutes. His face still hurt and he tried his best not to move any muscles. Anytime his muscles moved the pain felt worse. But eventually questions started to surface from the depths of his slightly groggy mind.

"Where are we going?"

"Shut up. You're going where we tell you to go and that's all you need to know."

Great, Zack thought, I'm not getting any answers outta these assholes. I don't know where I'm going… Zack thought on it a second more and figured out the answer. They're going to sell me. Who are they gonna sell me to? What will I have to do? Zack's mind raced with dozens of horrible possibilities.

Zack obediently followed behind the other slave he was chained to. He had no idea how long he had walked without saying a word. The other slave never spoke at all and the conversation between the slavers was sparse. Zack wasn't able to glean any useful information from their almost-nonexistent dialogue.

They followed the path of least resistance, the areas that had the least amount of garbage on the ground. Most of the time it felt like they were following a set path, as if someone had previously come in with a bulldozer to move huge heaps of scrap out of the way so people could walk around the junkyard more easily.

Zack finally had the sense to count how many slavers there were: six in all. Not that it mattered much, if it ever came to a fight he couldn't take one of them let alone six. It was easy to tell they were heavily muscled, as all but one was shirtless. They did have a fondness for wearing grey hoods that concealed everything but their eyes. While it was clear that each one of them was physically stronger than Zack; that was not even the biggest problem. They were all armed with weapons. One had a single-barrel shotgun; another had a large pistol. One was holding what looked to be a minigun. The others looked to be holding various types of rifles but Zack couldn't get a good look at each one.

Another thing that drew Zack's attention was that fact that all the slavers (and the slave) looked human. Zack was certain he was in some alternate dimension. There was no way he could be sure they were actually human. They just might look human. Perhaps humans as Zack knew them only existed in his own dimension. But they clearly weren't space aliens or elves or some sort of fantastical race of beings from some fantasy RPG so Zack decided to consider them human.

It was starting to feel like they had been at this a few hours. They had been walking around a junkyard… for a few hours. Zack wondered just how big this scrapheap was. Then the possibility that the entire planet might be one big junkyard entered Zack's mind.

They finally stopped to rest. The slavers enjoyed some food and water, though none was offered to the two captives. The slavers had to remove their hoods in order to eat. Zack saw that they were indeed human, but didn't look too long. Zack really didn't think he needed to memorize their faces. Besides, he was sure he would get yelled at (or worse) if he were caught staring at them.

The slavers seemed pretty distracted with eating and conversation so Zack decided he try and talk with the other poor soul who was bound in heavy chains.

"Hi. I'm Zack Skellington."

The woman stared at him. Zack felt like an idiot. It wasn't his fault; he had no idea how he was supposed to strike up a conversation with someone who had been caught by slavers.

"My name is Aniwa. You would do well not to speak so much. The slavers may decide to cut out your tongue if you annoy them too much."

"They would really do that? Wouldn't they need me to be able to speak?"

"Not all slaves need to speak to do their jobs."

That revelation was certainly a conversation killer. Zack closed his mouth.

Aniwa took a quick glance at the slavers to make sure they weren't paying them too much attention.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You have no survival instinct or common sense."

"You are correct. I'm not from here. I don't even know where 'here' is."

"You're in the Lost Land."

"Yes… I am definitely lost in this land. Is this whole place one giant junkyard?"

"No."

"I came here from some sort of portal. It was this weird, wavy blue thing that hung in the air. Is there some way I can get back home?"

"I doubt it."

"Is this the future? Or some alternate dimension?"

"The Lost Land—"

"Shut up you two!" One of the slavers yelled.

They were quick to do as they were told.

Soon enough the group started walking again. The miserable silence allowed Zack's mind to wander and think of all the horrible outcomes that might await him. Paralyzing fear would have crept into Zack's heart if not for the fact that it had been dulled by thirst, hunger, pain, and fatigue.

Zack now knew he was in the Lost Land… but that told him nothing. Thinking on the dreary-sounding name of the place only brought more questions to Zack's mind… like why the place was called the Lost Land.

There was someone in the back of Zack's mind that ate away at him. Something seemed to be different from before. He had plenty of time to think and finally figured out what was bothering him so much. Before the slavers had talked amongst one another, not much but they talked. Now they were dead silent. Zack wondered why that was.

The answer was soon to reveal itself. The slavers were not the masters of this particular region of the junkyard.

A shot rang out, though it was unlike any firearm Zack had heard before. A green streak of light connected with one of the slaver's hooded heads and it evaporated into a red-green haze.

"Ambush!" The remaining five slavers scattered, trying to take cover behind whatever scrap was large enough to protect them.

The minigun roared to life. A series of green explosions impacted on the ground, sending dirt and debris flying in all directions.

Aniwa and Zack had been all but forgotten. Aniwa bolted forward, determined to get away. Still bound together by the chains, Zack was forced to follow at her speed or risk getting dragged. Zack didn't think he had the inner reserves to keep up with the woman but he had surprised himself. Despite his great fatigue and hunger, he felt an impressive surge of strength in his legs he didn't know he possessed. Fear was a powerful motivator. This was not the paralyzing fear that resulted in inaction. This was definitely the primal desire to flee a fight. This was the fear of getting shot or blown up in the crossfire, fear that the slavers would win and continue to hold them as prisoners… fear that whoever was attacking the slavers was far worse.

"Over here." Aniwa yanked Zack over to a large metal claw. The claw was attached to a huge metal arm, but whatever was attached to the arm was buried under a pile of scrap. A snapshot image of some long-dead killer robot entered Zack's mind before reality forced him to focus.

Aniwa raised the chains connecting them over the metal claws. "On three. One, two, three!" Together they slammed the chains down over the claws… and they broke. Aniwa repeated the process again on her own to sever the link that bound her hands together.

Zack was hesitant to go again. Before Aniwa hadn't given him a choice, but on his own he momentarily caved in to the paralyzing fear… the possibility that he might accidentally slice his hands open on the rusty metal claws. It wasn't an entirely unreasonable fear; the chains that bound his two hands together were much shorter than the chain that hooked him to Aniwa.

"Hurry!"

"I—" Bullets sprayed in their direction. Aniwa turned and ran. Zack started to follow. He could get free of the manacle's chains later. Better to stick with the one person who didn't seem hostile—but then the option was taken away.

"You're not going anywhere!" One of the slavers hit Zack in the back. He fell over. He jerked his head up almost as soon as he hit the ground, hoping to see Aniwa… but she was already out of sight.

"We didn't come out here for nothing! But if we can't have you, no one will!"

Zack bolted forward on all fours, moving at a speed never before seen in human crawling. The bullets barely missed him. Zack managed to get up and run behind a pile of garbage but the slaver was no fool. He was already moving around the pile from the other side.

Zack stopped dead in his tracks when he came face-to-face with the slaver's pistol pointed in his face.

"Game over," the slaver sneered.

Zack's life flashed before his eyes… it was boring. He never did anything extraordinary or exciting. He never did anything memorable. Nobody would care that he was gone save for a few close family members. It didn't matter that he was ever alive at all. His whole life had been a worthless waste.

A shot rang out—but it was not a bullet from the pistol. It was some focused, green energy blast. The slaver was hit in the shoulder but it was not merely a flesh wound. The slaver's shoulder was gone… his arm had fallen free of its body as red blood splattered upon the dusty ground. The slaver fell over backward. He was dead but still leaked a stream of crimson from where his shoulder once was.

Zack noticed that the sounds of battle had died away. There was complete silence. The unknown attackers had won. Zack didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing but he was about to find out. He turned around to get a look at his savior… or future tormentor.

"Dr. Zoidberg?"

Author's Note: This chapter has the same name as one of the multiplayer maps from Turok: Rage Wars.

Aniwa appeared in the 2008 animated film Turok: Son of Stone.

The slavers' appearances are based off of the Campaigner's second skin (named Slaver) in Turok: Rage Wars.