David Robbins - The Fox Run

“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.”

“This road makes our trip a lot easier,” Geronimo commented. He was sitting in the front, in the passenger-side bucket seat. Blade was driving the SEAL. Hickok sat in the back seat, behind Blade, Joan’s head cradled in his lap. She was stretched out on the seat, sound asleep.

“At least there aren’t any trees,” Blade admitted. They were cruising in a northeasterly direction on Highway 11, an artery the map referred to as a