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!”