after what he had just learned, he was surprised he was able to form any coherent words at all.
Zach turned away from the piece of crap on the pavement. He had to see Francine immediately; he had to know the truth. The little voice inside him—the one that he hated because it never lied to him—said that he’d already heard the truth. Ralph Henson was his father.
His mind reeling, Zach never heard the noise behind him. Pain sliced into his head; he pitched forward and darkness followed.
He woke to pain. Harsh whispers and laughter echoed around him. The unmistakable smell of blood and the stench of something vile filled his nostrils. Every part of his body felt wrenched, bruised, battered, or broken. He tried to raise his head … knew he needed to get up. What the hell had happened? Agony split his side. He’d been around long enough to recognize a booted foot had just slammed into his kidney. He breathed through the pain and struggled to his knees. The headlights from several cars shone brightly in his eyes. He blinked, tried to get a clear picture of where he was. His vision was impaired … something warm and wet was running down his face, into his eyes. He saw three blurred figures; couldn’t make out any faces. Henson and his friends? Fury trumped pain. Damned if they’d get away with this.
He got to his feet. Swaying unsteadily, he balled his hand into a fist and swung out blindly. He felt a small satisfaction when fist met flesh. Excruciating pain exploded in his jaw. Multiple fists slammed into him from every direction. Shielding his face with his left arm, Zach lashed out with his right arm. His knees wobbled, his feet unsteady. His brain occasionally registered that he’d scored a hit to something or someone. A hard blow slammed against the side of his head and he fell face-first onto the ground. Someone jumped on top of him, began pummeling in earnest. Blessed unconsciousness descended once again and this time Zach welcomed the dark relief.
Minutes or hours later, he woke. The sky above him held a light pinkish tinge. It was almost dawn. Painfully he turned his head and tried to comprehend his surroundings. As far as the eye could see, there was only flat, open landscape—a cow pasture.
Hissing at the pain, he raised his head and that was when he realized he was not only naked, his entire body was covered in blood and cow manure. Every muscle and part of his body throbbed and ached. The agony it took to breathe told him his ribs were either cracked or severely bruised, his nose was busted, and he could barely see for the searing pain in his head.
Every breath brought a curse as he raised himself up, got to his knees, and then his feet. He had no idea where he was, but if he didn’t get his ass in gear, he’d be walking home in broad daylight.
Finally standing, he swayed back and forth like a drunk, and only sheer determination kept him from falling. He took a second to get his bearings. Seeing the Midnight water tower in the distance, he determined where he was and the location of the road. Figuring he was at least two miles from his house, he stumbled forward. He’d make it home before he was seen or die trying. Several yards ahead of him, he spotted his wallet. Swallowing a groan, he leaned down and picked it up. Bastards had even taken his money, all thirteen dollars. But they’d left his license and that’s all he cared about.
At last finding the road, he bellowed like a crazed man as he climbed the fence. Knowing his legs would never hold him, Zach dropped and landed on his ass. His body jarred and he again allowed himself the luxury of screaming at the pain.
Back on his feet, he dragged one foot in front of the other. And as he stumbled home, fury burned the pain and humiliation away. He had been treated like shit for most of his life in this town. And thanks to Ralph Henson, he now knew he came from shit.
It took him almost two hours to get home. He’d had to hide twice behind bushes when a couple of cars had driven past him. He pulled himself up to the porch and found the key under the doormat where his mother always left it. Cynically he wondered how many