The Fox Run

Chapter Seventeen

Morning on the third day after the assault on the Home.

Saxon raised his arm for the column to halt. They were on top of a sloping rise. Below them, a narrow valley meandered for a mile, ending in a cluster of buildings.

“Fox!” Saxon announced for the benefit of his wary captives.

Jenny peered at the distant town. They were almost there, and still no sign of any Warriors. Where were they? Had something happened to Blade? Was that the reason their rescue hadn’t materialized?

The eleven Trolls and seven women tramped down the rise.

“At last!” one of the Trolls exclaimed. “Home at last!”

Saxon glanced at Jenny. “You women will get to rest tonight. You’ll need it. Tomorrow is the testing for your services.”

“What is this testing you go through?” Jenny asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Stupid woman!” Saxon guffawed. “It’s you women who are tested, not us.”

“What type of tests?”

“You’ll see,” was all Saxon would say.

The sun climbed as they crossed the verdant valley.

“I’m getting scared,” Angela whispered.

Jenny smiled at her reassuringly. “We’ll make it.”

Shouts sounded in the town as they drew near. The Trolls had erected a wooden fence, encircling the northern half of Fox, with gates in the middle of each side. Faces, most of them bearded, appeared at the western gate and it was hastily flung open.

“Not as fancy as your big wall,” Saxon said, indicating the fence as they approached, “but it and the fires keep the pus heads out.”

“Pus heads?” Jenny repeated.

“You’ve got to know what the pus heads are,” Saxon said. “They are all over the place. We saw one yesterday, remember?”

Jenny understood now. “We call them mutates.”

“What?”

“Mutates.”

“From now on,” Saxon instructed her, “you will call them pus heads.”

“If I don’t?” Jenny defiantly countered.

“I’ll feed you to Wolvie or Runt or Momma,” he threatened her.

“Who are they?”

Saxon chuckled. “You’ll see them soon enough.”

Dozens of Trolls poured through the gate and surrounded the newcomers, many of them lecherously leering at the women.

“I think we’re in big trouble,” Mary stated.

The throng moved inside the fence and along several streets until they reached a paved square in the center of the town. A small platform was standing in the middle of the square. Saxon jumped onto the platform and held his arms aloft.

Silence descended.

“As promised,” Saxon bellowed, “we have returned with more women!”

A great cheer went up among the assembled Trolls, mixed with clapping and whistling.

Saxon motioned and they quieted.

“I told you I would bring healthy females, and as always I have kept my word. Who leads you best?”

Slowly at first, with increasing frequency and volume, the massed Trolls chanted the name of their leader. “Sax-on! Sax-on! Sax-on!”

Saxon, Jenny saw, was eating up this adulation. She gazed at the buildings in their vicinity and noted their dilapidated condition. Cement was cracked, wood was warped, and trash and filth were everywhere.

Didn’t these people believe in sanitation?

“Tomorrow,” Saxon shouted, “we will hold the tests to see how strong they are. Life to the strong and death to the weak!”

“Life to the strong and death to the weak!” most of the Trolls repeated.

Jenny abruptly realized only men were present. Where were the women?

Surely the Trolls had more women!

“Many of our fellows did not come back.” Saxon turned somber, pacing on the platform. “This Family is very strong. They have many guns! More guns than I ever saw! How would you like to get those guns?”

The Trolls went crazy at the prospect.

“I have a plan,” Saxon told them. “When the time comes, we will attack their Home again, take their guns, and steal all of their women! Would you like that?”

A chorus of “Yes! Yes! Yes!” came from his cheering companions.

“I knew you would!” Saxon pointed at the women. “Lock them up until tomorrow morning. Then we will have our fun!”

The Trolls obeyed, three or four gripping each woman, hauling them forcefully down another avenue until they reached a three-story brick building. Two Trolls, both armed with rifles, stood guard outside a sturdy door.

Jenny, like the other women, found herself unceremoniously shoved through the doorway. She sprawled on her hands and knees on a rough concrete floor, scraping her palms. The windows in this putrid place were boarded over. Several candles, placed in metal holders attached to the walls, provided the sole illumination.

The door slammed shut behind them.

Angela was sniffling.

Jenny rose, removing the rope from around her raw neck. She spotted other women, and children, huddled along the walls.

“We’re not alone,” Ursa noted.

“Hello,” Jenny addressed them. “My name is Jenny.”

No one responded. One child fearfully pressed against her mom.

“We mean you no harm,” Jenny assured them. Her eyes were adjusting to the subdued lighting. These women were a bedraggled and timid bunch, attired in rags and animal skins, their hair unkempt, their bodies slumped in an attitude of profound despair. The children were the same.

She counted nineteen women and nine children.

“Did you say,” spoke a squeaky, tiny voice, “your name is Jenny?”

“I did.” Jenny faced the direction the voice came from, one of the darker corners of the room.

A shadow detached itself and came toward her.

“Who is it?” Angela asked fearfully.

“Quiet!” Lea shushed her.

“I knew a Jenny once,” said the shadow, a woman, as she limped across the floor. “It was in a place I grew up, a wonderful, happy place called the Home. .

“The Home!” Jenny ran to the woman and gripped her by the shoulders, drawing her close to one of the candles.

The woman was old beyond her years, aged by hardship and wrinkled by torture. Her hair was gray, her eyes brown. She limped because her right foot was twisted at a right angle to her body.

“Who are you?” Jenny demanded. “We are from the Home too!”

Tears welled up in the older woman’s eyes and she sagged.

“Help me!” Jenny directed, and Lea and Daffodil assisted her in gently lowering the older woman to the floor.

“I can’t believe it…” The older woman choked on her words. “I am so sorry!” She began crying, great racking sobs, her frail body trembling from the intensity of her emotion.

“It’s all right,” Jenny assured her.

“No,” the older woman disagreed, “it isn’t! You don’t understand!”

“Understand what?”

“That you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me!” She rolled over, hiding her face, bawling.

“What does she mean?” Saphire asked.

“I don’t know,” Jenny replied. She raised the woman from the cold, dirty floor. “What did you mean by that?”

“I was the one who told them about the Home!”

“You did what?” Lea asked in an angry tone.

The gray-haired woman wept even louder.

Jenny, perplexed, held the woman’s head in her lap and patiently waited for her to stop. There was something about this woman, a vague quality of familiarity.

“I have the feeling I know her,” Ursa mentioned, confirming Jenny’s intuition.

The poor woman cried and cried, but finally her tears subsided, her shaking stopped, and she grew quiet, wiping her forearms repeatedly across her nose.

The Family women surrounded her, while the other women in the dingy room kept their distance.

“Can you talk now?” Jenny inquired.

The woman nodded, sniffling.

“Good. Who are you?”

“Don’t you recognize me?” her voice quavered.

“No.” Jenny shook her head. “But I do feel like I should know who you are.”

“I remember you,” the woman stated proudly. “You’re Jenny, the cute one who was always hanging around Blade.”

“How did…” Jenny began to speak, but was cut short.

“And you,” the weak woman said, looking at Lea, “are Lea. And Ursa.

Saphire. Daffodil.” She paused, smiling, pleased at her accomplishment.

“But I don’t know you two.” She wagged a finger on her left hand at Mary and Angela.

The two youngest, Jenny mentally noted. “You still have not told us who you are,” she reminded this stranger.

“My name,” she hesitated, the words scarcely audible, “is Nadine.”

Plato’s wife! Jenny had known her, not intimately, but the two had conversed on occasion.

“You’re Nadine?” Ursa asked skeptically. “Nadine disappeared about seven years ago.”

“Yeah,” Lea added. “Nadine had brown hair. She was a much younger woman than you appear to be.”

“How do you know you’re really Nadine?” Mary demanded.

Jenny glanced at the others, annoyed. “Give her a break! Who else would she be? Would another woman bawl her brains out like she just did? Who else would know our identities? A moment ago you said you thought you knew her,” Jenny said to Ursa.

“I’m sorry.” Ursa frowned. “I didn’t mean anything by doubting her. It’s just that she looks so different.”

Nadine smiled up at them. “That I do, child.” She sighed, fussing with her hair, her bony fingers plucking at stray hairs and futilely endeavoring to shape them in some semblance of order. “You will look very different too, if the damn Trolls keep you for any length of time.”

“Is that the reason you vanished?” Jenny probed. “The Trolls got you?”

Nadine sadly nodded. “It seems like ages ago. Plato and I were enjoying an outing, indulging his chronic curiosity. He went for firewood, and that’s when two Trolls jumped me. They pinned my arms and one of them held his hand over my mouth. I struggled…” She stopped, the memories almost too painful. “But they were too strong. They brought me here to Fox.” Tears filled her eyes again. “And here I’ve languished for seven years.

Seven years! You don’t know how many times I’ve wished I had the courage to kill myself and end this terrible living nightmare!”

“You can’t be serious,” Ursa stated.

“Can’t I?” Nadine said angrily.

“Why didn’t you try to escape?” Mary, the Tiller, asked.

“Don’t you think I haven’t tried?” Nadine responded. “But the Trolls never leave the women alone, except in here when guards are posted outside. Women are too valuable to the Trolls. At least, until they reach a certain age.”

“Where did these others come from?” Jenny glanced around the room.

“The same as you. They were kidnapped.” Nadine struggled to a sitting posture. “The Trolls scour the countryside for females. The Home isn’t the only inhabited center in this area.”

“Why do the Trolls steal women?” Lea asked, leaning forward.

“It’s a long story,” Nadine replied.

“I think we’ve got the time,” Jenny said. “Saxon told us we would be in here until our testing tomorrow, whatever that is.”

Nadine unsuccessfully tried to suppress a groan.

“What’s this testing business?” Saphire questioned.

“The Trolls put you through a series of tests designed to determine which of you is the fittest, which of you will make the best mates.”

“I’ll never mate with an ugly old Troll,” Angela stated defiantly.

“If you don’t, child,” Nadine informed her, “then you will die a hideous death.”

“I’ve noticed,” Jenny observed, “all of the women in here are on the young side, with the exception of yourself.”

Nadine nodded. “The Trolls only want young, healthy women. Once a woman reaches a certain age, in most cases, she’s killed.”

“What age is that?” Jenny asked.

“It’s not a set age in years,” Nadine answered. “The Trolls simply kill any woman when she becomes too old to handle servicing them any longer.”

“Servicing?” Angela repeated.

“It’s what they call it. I call it forced sexual bondage.”

“But they haven’t killed you,” Jenny pointed out.

Nadine laughed. “It’s certainly not because of my servicing skills! They keep me alive because I can read.”

“Read?” Jenny repeated.

“Yes, read. Believe it or not, I am the only one in Fox who can read.”

“They can’t read?” Angela giggled.

“Where would they learn?” Nadine elaborated. “Where are the schools they attend? Organized education is virtually nonexistent. From what I have learned while here, the Family is a singular exception. Reading and writing are lost arts. When Saxon learned I could read, he was delighted.

Incredibly, there is a brain in that hulking deviate. I’m alive today because Saxon decided I would instruct him. He’s a pitiful student, but at least he doesn’t molest me, and the other Trolls couldn’t be bothered with an old hag like me.”

“What about these women?” Jenny swept the room with her left hand.

“They’re not as fortunate as I am,” Nadine said softly. “Whenever a Troll wants them, any time of the day or night, they must… perform… or else.”

“How disgusting!” Lea exclaimed.

“What else do they make you do?” Ursa, one of the Family Librarians, inquired. Kurt Carpenter had considered knowledge essential to the Family’s survival; accordingly, selection as a Librarian was considered a high honor. Ursa was the heaviest of the Family women present. She wore her brown hair cropped close.

“We do,” Nadine replied, “whatever the Trolls want us to do. We skin the game they kill and prepare their food. Every menial, servile job you can conceive of is entrusted to us.” She pointed at one of the flickering candles.

“We make their candles from animal fat, a messy, stinking operation if ever there was one.”

“And if you refuse?” Jenny questioned her.

“What do you think?” Nadine responded.

“You said you’re teaching Saxon to read,” Ursa noted. “Read what? Do they have a library here?”

Nadine shook her head. “Just a few books and some old papers. Most flammable material has been utilized as fuel for their fires during the cold weather.” She paused and glanced at the door. “A few of the papers I discovered were quite revealing. They provided a clue to the origin of the Trolls, if not their name.”

“How do you mean?” Lea, the Weaver, asked.

“We know from the Family Library,” Nadine explained, “a lot about the way of life before the Big Blast, about their social structure, their culture, or lack of it, their various institutions and general organization. For instance, we know they maintained facilities to contain the criminals, to restrain their insane, and to functionally integrate their mentally retarded.

I’ve learned that shortly after the war, the state of Minnesota established a home for the retarded here in Fox, a very unique home. As part of a new program designed to convert criminals into productive members of the society through community indoctrination, the state set up this home for marginally retarded criminals. Its purpose, I’ve deduced, was to normalize these individuals by securing employment for them and allowing them to function in a quiet, rural setting.”

“You think the Trolls came from this facility?” Daffodil deduced.

“Their descendents anyway,” Nadine answered. “I don’t know when they were first called the Trolls, or why. I did find one illuminating paper written by a man named Aaron, the head of the facility. Apparently the Government ordered an evacuation of the town and most people fled. A bus was to be sent from Minneapolis to pick up the criminals in his charge, but it never arrived. Aaron scribbled some notes on a piece of paper, steps he would take if help didn’t eventually show up. One of the sentences could be the key to our current predicament.”

“What was it?” Jenny asked.

“I have it memorized,” Nadine said, quoting: “If we are left on our own, must find women. None left in town. Must find women!”

Silence momentarily engulfed their little group.

The door suddenly crashed open and a Troll stalked into the room.

“Are you all comfy?” He laughed.

No one else thought he was funny.

“Four of you will come with me,” he barked, raising his right hand and pointing at four of the women standing near the right wall. “You and you and you and you. Move it!”

The women meekly complied, hastily departing.

The Troll looked at the Family members. “Get plenty of rest today and tonight, because you’ll need your strength for the testing tomorrow.” He grinned, pivoted, and walked to the door.

“I’m not looking forward to this testing business,” Angela anxiously whispered.

“Oh, by the way.” The Troll had stopped with his hand on the door. “I don’t know if anyone has told you yet, but if you don’t pass our tests tomorrow, you’re in for a very nasty surprise. Sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite!” He cackled and exited, the door slamming behind him.

“Can’t those bastards close a door quietly?” Ursa asked.

“What did he mean by that last comment?” Jenny glanced at Nadine.

“They haven’t told you yet?” Nadine seemed surprised.

“No. Saxon mentioned feeding us to somebody called Wolvie, Runt, or Momma. Who are they?” Jenny noticed Nadine stiffen.

“They are not persons.” Nadine gazed at each of them. “If you fail the tests, you will suffer the same fate as any woman who has outlived her usefulness to the Trolls.” She paused, her face a pale, haunted visage.

“What will happen to us if we fail?” Angela gripped Nadine’s right shoulder.

Nadine stared into Angela’s eyes. “You will be thrown, alive, into a pen of ravenous wolverines.”