The Fox Run

Chapter Eight

Plato, standing near the SEAL in front of E Block, gazed over the assembled Family and felt tears moistening his tired eyes. The early morning sun was bright, glaring, causing him to squint as he addressed them.

“Last night was the worst night in Family history! And do you know whose fault it was? Ours!” There were murmurs among the Family members, many shifting uncomfortably. Plato averted his eyes. He could scarcely stand to see the injured, to look at his maimed loved ones, to observe their saddened expressions. It wouldn’t do, though, to permit them to perceive his sorrow. He must be strong, befitting a Leader.

“It was our fault because we became complacent,” Plato said, confronting them with the truth. “Over the years we’ve become sloppy, careless. In the early days, right after the Big Blast, the Family posted Warriors on every wall at night, not just the west wall.” He sighed, weary to his core. “We began believing we were secure in the Home, safe from attack. Who could scale our tall walls? Who would dare assault us? Well, we have our answer, and a terrible price has been paid for our folly. I know you must have many questions about last night, and here is the man with the answers.”

Plato beckoned and Hickok stepped alongside him. Geronimo was leaning against the SEAL.

Blade was still in C Block, being tended to by the Healers.

“We know how they got in,” Hickok began, holding aloft a long rope with a grappling hook attached to one end. He used his right arm. His left was pressed against his side. The Healers had informed him the wound was not serious. They had applied therapeutic herbs and a compress and argued when he stubbornly refused to accept a sling. “We found this still attached to the top of the east wall. They apparently used these to scale the outer wall. Once on top, they used wire cutters to get past the barbed wire. From there it was easy to climb down the inner wall, swim the moat, and do what they came here to do. We think there were two groups. One came over the east wall, the other over the south. Our initial estimates place their strength at about two dozen.”

“How many did we get?” someone asked.

“We killed eleven and took one alive,” Hickok answered. “But what’s of more concern to us is the damage they inflicted. Four of our Family were killed, nine injured, and…” He paused, reluctant to continue. “And eight of the women were taken captive.”

A young woman of seventeen started crying. “Where’s my mom?” she asked Hickok. “Where’s Lea?”

The gunman experienced a lump in his throat. “We’ll find her, Cleopatra. Don’t worry.”

“Is that a promise?” she inquired, tears streaking her face.

“That’s a promise,” Hickok responded, a harsh edge to his voice. “The women,” he said, speaking louder so those in the back of the group could hear him, “were the primary target.”

“Why?” a man wanted to know.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Hickok retorted.

“Do we know where the women were taken?” a woman demanded.

“We’ll know shortly,” Hickok assured her. “Any more questions?”

There were none.

Plato stepped forward. “Take time to rest and eat. We will hold another Family conclave when the sun is directly overhead. Plans must be made to add new members to our Warrior ranks and revise our defense strategies.

Don’t fear for our female friends and loved ones! We will be sending Warriors to retrieve them.” Plato faced Hickok. “Where is our prisoner being restrained?”

“The one Geronimo caught is in there,” Hickok replied, jerking his right thumb at E Block.

“Let’s question him.” Plato led the way into the building. Hickok and Geronimo followed.

Just inside the doorway, bound hand and feet, propped on his knees, was the captured Troll. E Block was the Family library, the main source of diversion and entertainment. Kurt Carpenter had personally selected the thousands upon thousands of volumes lining the cramped shelves.

Standing immediately behind the Troll, katana in hand, was Rikki.

“Has he spoken?” Plato asked Rikki.

The head of Beta Triad simply shook his head.

Plato studied their captive. The man was young, maybe in his twenties, with brown hair worn long, falling to the center of his back, and an unkempt heard. His brown eyes glared defiantly up at them. His attire was unusual, even by Family standards, consisting of a loose-fitting tunic, covering him from his neck to his knees, and a large cloak or robe and sandals. Both the tunic and the cloak were constructed from bear hide. He was filthy and his body reeked.

“I understand you are called a Troll,” Plato stated, hoping to elicit a response.

He was successful.

The Troll spat on him.

Before Plato could intervene, Hickok backhanded the Troll on the mouth, knocking him to the concrete floor.

“Please.” Plato grabbed Hickok’s right hand. “We mustn’t descend to his level.”

“It’s the only level he’ll understand,” Hickok snapped.

The Troll giggled, rising to his knees again.

“Where are your fellows taking our women?” Plato asked him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” the Troll answered, leering at them.

“If you tell us,” Plato told him, “we’ll release you.”

“A Troll never rats, you old bag of bones!”

“We must know,” Plato insisted.

“I’ll never say a word,” the Troll confidently stated.

“Yes, you will,” said a new voice.

Blade was standing in the doorway, naked from the waist up, his skin caked with patches of blood. The Healers had tended to a gaping gash in his head, caused by the edge of a hatchet. Just a shade lower, and he would not have recovered.

“I ain’t tellin’ you nothing, asshole!” the Troll declared, grinning at Blade.

Blade slowly entered E Block. He drew his right Bowie.

“Blade, don’t!” Plato exclaimed.

This time it was Hickok who clamped his good hand around Plato’s narrow left wrist and held fast. “Sorry, Plato. Can’t let you interfere with my pard,” he apologized.

Blade reached the Troll. His lips were compressed, a thin line of restrained rage, his features hard, his grey eyes glaring.

“If I were you,” Hickok advised the Troll, “I’d speak up real quick like.”

“You don’t scare me,” the Troll arrogantly countered.

Blade used his left hand to grip a handful of the Troll’s hair above his right ear. He began cutting the hair close to the scalp. The Troll bucked and attempted to pull loose, but Rikki seized him by the shoulders and pinned him in place.

“What are you doing?” the Troll demanded, his tone tremoring.

Blade finished cutting the hair. “I am going to ask you this only once,” he said quietly. “Where are the Trolls based?”

“Blade, don’t!” Plato reiterated, sensing what was coming.

“Kiss off, bastard!” the Troll roared at Blade.

Calmly, precisely, Blade slashed the Troll’s right ear off.

The Troll screeched at the top of his lungs, pain staggering his senses, heaving against his bounds and striving to rise. Rikki maintained his iron grip. Jagged folds of flesh hung where the ear had been. Blood seeped down his side.

“You prick!” the Troll bellowed at Blade. “Prick! Prick! Prick!”

“You have to admire his vocabulary,” Geronimo commented.

Blade crouched and pressed the bloody point of his Bowie against the Troll’s crotch.

The Troll froze, his eyes widening in abject fear.

“Now that I have your undivided attention,” Blade said softly, “I’m going to ask you some questions. If you don’t answer them, if you pause to so much as sneeze, I’m going to push my knife clear through your balls. Do you understand?”

The Troll nodded, his body quaking uncontrollably.

“Good.” Blade applied slight pressure to the Bowie. “Where are the Trolls based?”

The Troll tried to speak, his lips twitching, his throat bobbing.

“I can’t hear you,” Blade goaded him.

“F… F… Fox,” the Troll blurted.

“Fox?” Blade repeated. “Where or what is Fox?”

“There is, or was, a town called Fox on the map of Minnesota,” Plato recalled. “East of here a ways.”

The Troll quickly nodded his head, his hair flying. “That’s it! That’s the place!”

“How did you get here?” Blade inquired.

“What do you mean?” The Troll required an elaboration.

“On horses, some mechanical means, or foot, what?”

“On foot. What’s a mechanical means?” The Troll appeared confused.

“Why did you attack us?”

The Troll almost grinned, but caught himself in time. His eyes rested on the gleaming Bowie and he gulped. “We wanted to get as many of your women as we could.”

“Why?”

“We’re always running out of them.”

“Running out of women?” Now Blade was the one who was puzzled.

“Why?”

“They’re always dying on us. Can’t hack it, I guess.”

“But why come here? It took a lot of effort to scale our walls. You must have had some idea of how many of us there were, and you must have known we were well armed. Why risk it? Aren’t there any other women left out there?”

“Not in our area,” the Troll answered. “We’ve already raided everywhere else we knew of.”

“How did you know about us?” Blade wanted to know.

“Oh, a long, long time ago one of us got hold of one of your women.”

Blade eased the Bowie a fraction into his groin. “You’re lying. None of our women were ever taken by Trolls. I would know.”

“I’m telling the truth, man! I’m telling the truth!”

“When was this woman allegedly taken?” Plato questioned the Troll, his interest aroused.

“Let me think…” The Troll bit his lower lip, nervously watching the Bowie. “It was some time back. Six? No! It was seven seasons ago.”

“Seasons? Do you mean years?” Blade asked.

“Yeah. Seasons. Years. They’re the same thing to us.”

Hickok noticed Plato blanch and his knees sagged. Then he recovered.

“This woman…” Plato seemed to have difficulty speaking. “Did she have a name?”

“Yeah, her name is Nadine.”

Hickok quickly placed his good arm around Plato’s waist to prevent the Leader from collapsing. Plato lowered his face and groaned.

“What’s the matter with him?” Rikki-Tikki-Tavi solicitously inquired.

“Don’t you remember?” asked a newcomer. “Nadine is his wife.” Joshua entered the Block. He walked to Plato’s side and took him from Hickok.

“I’ll tend to him.” Joshua’s gaze rested on the Bowie Blade held. “Is that necessary?”

“Don’t interfere,” Blade admonished him.

“He may be our enemy,” Joshua persisted, “but he is still a child of the Creator, just as we all are.”

“Joshua.” Plato surprised everyone present by standing tall and stepping free of Joshua’s embrace. “Shut up.”

“If I hadn’t heard that with my own ears,” Hickok wryly interjected, “I wouldn’t believe it.”

“Is Nadine still alive?” Plato asked, a pleading quality to his voice. “You must tell me!”

The Troll nodded. “Yup. Sure is. Amazing too, when you come to think about it.

“Why is that?” Blade probed.

“Like I told you before,” the Troll reminded him. “They don’t usually last long once we get them.”

“Why… not?” Plato’s hands were trembling.

The Troll went to reply, but apparently thought better of it.

“Answer him,” Blade said, applying additional pressure to the Bowie.

“Go ahead. Do it!” The Troll stared at Blade. “But I won’t say a thing about the women. You’d kill me for sure then!”

Blade slowly stood and placed his Bowie in its sheath. “Rikki, take our guest to C Block and let the Healers bandage his ear…”

“Or what’s left of it,” Hickok said, smirking.

Rikki jerked the Troll to his feet. “You heard the man.” With a deft flick of his wrists he cut the rope tying the Troll’s feet. “Move it. One false move and you won’t be thinking about the ear you’ve lost. You won’t have a head to think with.” Rikki shoved the Troll towards the doorway.

“Go easy on him,” Joshua urged.

Rikki stopped for a moment next to Hickok. “I almost forget. Wanted you to know I wasn’t defying your order to protect Plato last night. Two other Warriors showed up and I left them with him while I went after you.

Plato was not in danger, and I knew I would be of more assistance where the combat was heaviest.”

“Do you hear me complaining?” Hickok smiled. “If you hadn’t shown up when you did, I’d have wasted a bullet on the creep.”

“That creep,” Joshua interjected, “was a son of God, like us.”

Rikki and the Troll left.

“I’d like to go with them,” Joshua said to Blade. “Maybe I can persuade this Troll to open up. I might learn some valuable information for you.”

Blade nodded and Joshua departed.

“So what’s our next move?” Hickok queried.

Blade was stroking his chin. “Those eight women are in great danger. I don’t know what the Trolls do with them, but whatever it is, it can’t be anything pleasant. It is imperative we leave as soon as possible and go in pursuit. We’ll go all the way to Fox if need be.”

“You would experience difficulty attempting to overtake them on foot,” Plato said. “I recommend you take some of our horses.”

“No.”

“No?”

“We’ll take the SEAL,” Blade stated.

Plato shook his head. “I would vigorously oppose any such action. The vehicle is too important. It is our only way of getting to the Twin Cities.”

“Granted,” Blade conceded. “But you just admitted we’d never catch them on foot, not with the head start they have. If we use the horses, how many of them do you think will make it back? What with the damn mutates and everything else out there, we’d be lucky if even one of them survived.”

“I still fail to comprehend any sound argument for utilizing the SEAL,” Plato stated.

“How about this for an argument,” Blade continued. “You said it was, what, hundreds of miles to the Twin Cities? Quite a trip when you consider we have no experience whatsoever with the transport. How far is it to this Fox?”

“I’d need to check the map,” Plato replied, perceiving the direction this reasoning was taking them, “but if memory serves, about forty or fifty miles.”

“There you have it.” Blade smiled. “Consider this run to Fox as our test run. It will prepare us for the longer journey to the Twin Cities. We’d have a better chance of getting to Fox and back. And if that isn’t enough,” Blade said, getting personal, “then think of Jenny and Nadine and the others.

Every minute we waste debating is another minute they’re closer to death.

I say we get the SEAL ready and leave as soon as possible.”

Plato’s brow furrowed as he considered their predicament. Finally he nodded agreement. “It’s against my better judgment, but we’ll do it. I can have the transport prepared shortly.”

“Let’s get to it.” Blade placed his left arm around Plato’s slim shoulders and they walked outside.

Hickok was grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s so funny?” Geronimo asked.

“Did you see the look on that Troll’s face when Blade shoved his Bowie into his nuts?”

“Abject terror,” Geronimo said, chuckling.

Hickok sighed happily. “I just love it when the big guy gets forceful!”