Hugh's Pain - 1. Chapter 1

The first traces of snow hit the windshield as Hugh Pearson navigated the curves up the mountain highway. He shifted to a lower gear and slowed his assent. The trailer didn't have the proper tires for winter driving, unlike the truck. This was the first winter he'd decided to spend with Pat and his family since they'd moved into the mountains so there had never been a need.

The dark of night was shattered at his rear when twin pierces of light seemed to come out of nowhere. The vehicle behind the headlights moved far too quickly for the dangers of an icy road and Hugh found himself gritting his teeth. It didn't slow when passing him but crowded his rig into the shoulder. Gravel hit the front of the truck sounding like machine gun fire, and Hugh had to remind himself to breathe, even as the grip of his hands on the wheel caused his fingers to ache. Not a minute later, a van passed, going just as fast as the car before it.

Everything in him told Hugh that this would end badly.

Two turns up the road and Hugh saw a van lying on its side with the wheels still turning. He pulled the rig onto the shoulder just beyond the accident and fished his cellphone out of the door pocket to call 911. Once the operator informed him that paramedics had been dispatched, Hugh pocketed the phone, grabbed a flashlight, and jumped down from the cab to jog back to the van.

Something wasn't right about the way the vehicle sat. He'd seen a lot of accidents with his time on the road, and this one bothered him from the get go. There was no sign of swerving, which he knew there would be in the case of losing control. No skid marks of any kind.

He looked inside the van, but saw no one. It was completely empty. Okay... maybe the driver crawled out. But, wouldn't he have been standing, or sitting near the van?

Hugh began to look around the area, thinking that maybe the driver had wandered in confusion. He didn't go far before almost tripping over the comatose figure of a boy. When Hugh knelt to get a closer look, his breath caught in his throat. The damage done to the boy was not caused by any accident. He'd seen his share of victims, both accidental and intentional. The marks he was able to make out in the narrow beam of light were far too familiar to the bruising he'd seen in the mirror not so many years prior.

Gently, Hugh raised the boy's upper body and checked for signs of life. His pulse was weak and extremely slow, and Hugh could make out a bubbling sound when he listened at the boy's chest. Guessing that the sound probably meant a punctured lung, Hugh took out his cellphone and hit two on his speed dial. He looked around the area, taking in everything he could—the van on its side, the curve of the road, and the slight mound of the shoulder— while listening to the ringtone in his ear. When he heard the click of the cell being picked up, his decision had been made.

"Hey, bro, you almost here?" the voice on the other end answered.

"Hey, Pat, soon, but I have a problem." He held the phone between his chin and shoulder while moving the boy's arms so they crossed in front of his body.

"Problem? The truck giving you issues?"

"No... something more along the lines of your occupation."

"My... what, are you sick? You never get sick." Pat's voice went from quietly pleased to concerned in all of a second.

"Not me. I'm bringing someone with me. There's no time to go into details right now but you'll need to be prepared for emergency treatment. He's been beaten. That's all I know right now."

"But—"

"No time, Pat. I'll be there in fifteen."

He pressed end and pocketed the phone before slipping his arm beneath the boy's legs and carrying him to the truck. As he got closer to the cab, the dome light shown on the boy's face. He was not as much a boy as Hugh had previously thought. Though small of stature, frail even, if Hugh was to be honest, the structure of his face led Hugh to believe that he was older than he had originally believed.

Hugh shifted his hold enough to reach the rear door handle and pull it open. Not for the first time, Hugh was thankful he'd chosen a rig with four doors. It would have been near impossible to move his companion into the back seat without it—at least, without further complicating his injuries. He'd have to drive the curves up to his brother's house even slower than he'd planned to avoid jostling the stranger, but he didn't really move along all that quickly to begin with.

On the winding drive up to Pat's, Hugh tried to keep an ear out for any changes in his charge, but the rattle of the diesel engine drowned out anything he might have heard. Once they arrived at the house, he quickly cut the motor, set the brake and went to the passenger door of the truck. Sliding in beside the battered body, he heard his brother's steps as he hurried up to the truck.

"Jesus, Hugh, what happened?"

Pat directed Hugh to the wheeled stretcher he'd brought with him. Hugh knew he didn't expect an answer yet and forced himself to step back as his brother went to work. It was as Pat was strapping the young man in that he realized he had hold of one of his hands.

"Hugh." His brother's voice barely registered in Hugh's brain as his eyes locked onto the hand in his grip. "Hugh, let him go. Let me take him inside and I promise you that I'll do everything I can to help him."

With a nod, Hugh released his grip and took a deep breath. Before wheeling the unconscious young man into his home office, Pat said, "Pull the trailer onto the pad and hook it up. Hopefully, by the time you're done I'll have a few answers for you."

"Sure, Pat. Okay."

He stood in the increasing darkness of night, watching as his brother disappeared into the converted garage. He listened as the sounds of sirens in the distance came to a stop and knew the paramedics, with accompanying authorities, had arrived at the accident site. They would be surprised that no one was there, but not so much so that they would launch a search. The van was not damaged enough to warrant more than a lift and tow.

Their search would be no more than to run the plates to find the owner. And Hugh had no doubt the van would be found to be stolen. With all he’d seen at the accident sight, he believed that tipping the vehicle on the turn had been intentional, but the reason for leaving the injured man behind eluded him. So far.

"Hugh?"

The soft melody of his sister-in-law, Jessica, called to him from the front door to the Tudor style home. He turned from the sounds, now dissipating in the darkness, and watched her walk gracefully toward him. Tipping his head to the side as he watched her, he wondered how she carried herself with such poise considering the large swell of her belly. He was sure she was bigger than she had been before the birth of her firstborn.

Jessica pulled him close for a hug when she reached his side then, after reaching up and tracing the scar that ran from his temple to the mid-point of his jaw and chin with a finger, turned him to face the truck.

"Go park the rig, Hugh. I've got some stew and fresh bread waiting for you in the kitchen."

Hugh did as she said, but not before glancing back at her and whispering, "Thanks, Jess."

She nodded and went back to the house as he climbed up into the cab.

Hugh paused before putting the truck into gear and looked at his reflection in the side mirror. The scar, though not as prominent and it used to be, stood out like a neon sign in the moonlight. It was the only visible mark he still carried from his last encounter with the man he’d called father for twenty years. It had been four years since that night, but the memory still gave him nightmares. He remembered, all too well, the glint of moonlight that reflected off the sharpened steel just before it arched through the air to slash along his face. It was only the fact that the man had been drunk as a skunk that had kept Hugh alive. The knife had been meant to slice his throat.

His gaze moved from the mirror up to the house and he wondered what kind of nightmares the young man inside would have to deal with.

A deep breath and a quick shake of his head was all Hugh needed to do in order to clear his mind enough to put the truck in gear and begin the task of getting the rig set up. He’d keep his head and finish the job before going inside for a long needed meal and company.

As he was finishing up, he heard the motor of a small car racing up the drive. Hugh turned in time to see a small Honda―he guessed maybe a Civic―screech to a halt and a small woman leap from the interior. He’d seen her before. She lived close by and had assisted Pat when he’d had to do emergency surgeries in the past. He couldn’t remember her name, but then he’d never really been introduced, instead choosing to remain in the background, in the shadows.

His fingers touched the long scar once again before he shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way to the back of the house. Pat and Jessica had a small studio added onto the house for him that had its own entrance and Hugh chose to go there to clean up before meeting up with Jessica in the kitchen.

Once in his room, Hugh kicked off his boots and went into the bathroom to strip out of his clothes. In the bright glare of the overhead light, he noticed the blood that stained his shirt and shuddered as the bruised face filled his thoughts. He threw the shirt, along with his jeans, socks and briefs into the hamper to deal with later and stepped into the shower.

It started cold, just as always, and he hissed at the sharp needles of water that beat onto his skin. Pat had put in a fast acting instant water heater when he found out that Hugh started his showers with freezing water, so it didn’t take long for the sting to disappear and the heat to begin to pulse into Hugh’s aching shoulders. There were times when he would turn the water to cold just to keep the pain going, but not tonight. He couldn’t afford to punish himself when he was being given a second chance.

A second chance. The thought sent shivers down his spine. He’d failed the first time. He wouldn’t fail again.