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“Ugh."

“Welcome back to the land of living kid."

Tommy slowly crawled his way back to consciousness, egged on by the familiar voice of one Carl Redweather, corporate handyman. He awoke to bright white on all sides, no doubt he had been hospitalised after...after...

Dad...he...hit me...fuck!

What am I going to do now?

“Hey it's okay, we can talk. The ward's empty. It's nine-thirty thereabouts."

“You sure."

“Positive."

He nervously glanced around, sweeping the place for anyone who might eavesdrop on their conversation, unsatisfied with Carl's assurances. Getting a bit paranoid are we? His mind was not at ease, the events of today certainly shattered any illusion of anything returning to the way things were. To how his parents used to be.

“Emotions were running pretty high back there. I sure as hell didn't want to stick around."

The shock of the event had not left the teenager's system, so he spoke little, if at all. Carl detailed what happened after he'd been struck by his father.

“You were out cold, face all busted up. There was plenty of bleeding, from what the docs tell me you had your nose broken something awful."

Tommy brought a hand up to his face, only just noticing the plaster cast his nose had been set in. His fingers mapped out its shape.

“They say there shouldn't be any disfigurement, it'll take time to heal though, so no interferin' with any of it."

The boy heeded Carl's warning, opting instead to scratch his cheeks, to alleviate the irritation some of the setting compound had caused on his skin.

“Anyway...when ya got hit I jumped out of my truck and rushed over to your side. Lacey did too. Your mom looked like she'd seen a ghost, all stiff, eyes shut tight. I don't think she wanted to believe what had happened. We got you into the truck — well, Lacey did, she lifted you single-handed while I started the engine — and checked you in to the nearest hospital. That's where we are now."

What the fuck's happened to my life?

“You're lucky it wasn't a fist kid. You'd be dead right now."

What!?

“Are you serious?" his breath shortened, a tightness held fast in his chest at the revelation of his brush with the reaper.

“I am. It may seem all weird, disturbing even — what your parents have become — but make no mistake, they are freakishly strong."

Tommy didn't respond. He went long periods without inhaling/exhaling. Carl was sure at one point he'd pass out.

“If it's any comfort, your dad probably thought he was giving you a slap, not too hard or anything. To discipline you. But, as we know now, he seriously underestimated his strength."

“Probably!?" amidst his panic, he wanted to be sure his father hadn't intended to grievously wound him. Being angry with him was one thing, but if he...hated...Tommy, the boy couldn't bear to live with such an animosity directed towards him by one who should be closer.

“Yeah. Your dad froze up after hitting you. He just...stood there, not talking, not looking away from you."

“Shit man."

“Don't I know it? I take it that your parents weren't the corporal punishment type?"

“No they weren't. At least, as far as I can remember. This was, this was—"

“Quite the change."

“Yeah."

“We both know there's a wilder side to them now. A more animal side. They've clearly been containing their instincts for a while now. It's been limited to, uh, a 'change in dress sense', and, uh, more adult practices."

“You can call it what it is: fucking. I'm not a kid."

“I guess so, kid...sorry, Tommy."

“Soon I'll be old enough to be treated like an adult, once I'm finished this school year."

“You're right. Geez, how long have you parents been—"

“Seven months."

“Damn. I never realised. It's like I haven't been payin' attention to any of this. Seven months. All just flew by."

“My birthday's in two."

“And what's that: sixteen?"

He nodded. “Old enough to get a driver's license, old enough to work part-time, old enough to leave my parents. Legally that is."

Kid really wants out eh? Carl murmured to himself.

“I hope we can patch things up with your folks."

“I'm not so optimistic. I wasn't having a good time there. The fight today didn't help."

“You say that now..."

“And I'll say it again and again for as long as I want. I'm done with them."

“You gotta place to stay? Because — as much as I feel for ya right now — I'm not babysitting you."

“My friend Nick, he offered to let me stay over if things ever got rough."

“Does he know?"

“No," Tommy put paid to that concern almost immediately, knowing Bovinex would have a field day with him if he'd let slip his parent's condition, “all he knows is there's a bit of trouble at home."

“More than 'a bit' now don'cha thing?"

They shared an anxious laugh together, it was fleeting, but a warm moment nonetheless. Carl steered the conversation back to Tommy's predicament: “do you have a plan at the moment?"

“I had started to work out what I'd do to get away from the farm. Before my...outburst. Lacey — um, Ms. Cain — knew I intended to leave as soon as I could."

“Listen, here's what I think you should do: sleep on it. And talk to me in the morning. In time, we can sort this out, but both you and your father need a cooling-off period before any of that can take place."

“Do you think it's worth ever going back?"

“I can't say. Given your situation I realised some time ago it was only a matter of time before you flew off the handle — no offence — and caused an argument. I told Ms. Cain that as well. You weren't keen on how life had turned out for you and what we'd done to your parents. What I hadn't accounted for was how your dad was going to react."

“Kinda shattered the whole 'happy family' routine huh?"

“Oh that's for sure."

“You think I shouldn't be mad at him, don't you?" Tommy could see that very plea in Carl's eyes. The older man shrugged his shoulders.

“Take it from me kid, what your dad did was horrible. It was in the heat of the moment though, after tensions reached boiling point. You laid a lotta harsh truths at his feet — about him as a person, what he'd become...and about your mom too — which is hard for anyone to accept without overreacting."

Tommy had a sceptical look about him that said: go on...

“Buuut...I reckon he loves you deep down. Beneath all of that angry (and...erm...naked) bull. He cares. Trust me on this...I can tell, 'cause my old man never did. I've worn a few shiners in my day too. Join the club."

“Do you have membership card?" the teen asked jokingly.

“Hah!" Carl sighed. It was time to make a move. Hopefully Tommy could handle and overnight stay at a hospital without incident. He rose to leave.

“If anyone asks, you got clipped by the wing mirror of a bus."

“That's what you're tellin' people?"

“Not the best alibi, but I was short on time."

“Okay, wing mirror it is."

“Keep the rest under wraps kid, I'll see you around."

Carl exited the area, leaving Tommy alone with no-one but the night porter for company. Better get some rest, he thought, there's a tonne of things to sort out tomorrow.

Damn...

I loose my cool, and dad nearly kills me! Shit, how did things get this bad!?

...

Looks like I have to take Nick up on his offer after all...

* * *

Eric Reimond felt like shit. Real shit. The type you watched on those brain-dead reality TV shows about trailer trash, drug addicts and deadbeat dads. The type who beat their kids regularly. The type one could now classify Eric as, thanks to his loss of control the other day.

As soon as his hand connected, something had immediately felt wrong. Eric shouldn't have let himself get so heated, so angry, so furious. Alas, there he stood, staring down at his unconscious son, blood bubbling from his smashed nose, decorating his features with a horrid shade of red...

Dear God, what've I done!?

That feeling of shame and worthlessness permeated the next few days, and Eric knew those negative emotions were justified. He'd crossed a line.

His wife, his mate, his world...hadn't spoken to him for a couple days. Tommy's injury had thrown her into a state of shock, with a hint of disbelief and denial that anything so bad could've happened at all.

What made Eric feel worse was the conflicting emotions coursing through his mind. The fiercer animal side still fuming at Tommy's unabashed disrespect, the calmer, more rational human side deeply ashamed and repentant at his actions. Sandra had made it clear that while she was appalled at his injuring of their son, part of her knew he'd be better off elsewhere; the herd...it wasn't for non-hybrids, that necessary feeling of togetherness just wasn't there with Tommy at the farm.

They were torn on the matter.

Four days later, the mood was of a different sort. The three hybrids were gathered indoors — a change from their usual lifestyle — as Frank performed a medical examination on Sandra. He wasn't exactly qualified to do so, but seeing a no-one else was allowed in on Bovinex's secret he was the best choice for the job. Frank had several lab assistants, all sworn to silence, but he was the sole doctor on the payroll. Thus the final responsibility was his in all things medical.

The purpose of Frank's visit had distracted the Reimond family enough for them to not wallow in a state of sorrow all the time. Sandra was having trouble keeping her food down the past two days, which could mean only one thing: morning sickness.

She was expecting!

This news kept each of them sane, a distraction from their woes with the added bonus of real excitement for what the future held. Lacey too was enthused, her mind running a mile a minute.

I can't believe it, Sandra's having a calf...ooh we better think of names! I wonder if they'll let me offer suggestions...

Her moment of doubt during Tommy's outburst had long since departed, as if the news of her herd-sister's pregnancy had quashed any remaining resistance to her life as-is. No worries, no doubts, no hesitation; there was a surety in her mind now, a surety of all things bovine.

A similar experience could be said to have befallen Eric, now happy to hear his family was about to grow larger. Pangs of regret for driving his son away lingered, and Sandra worried greatly about Tommy's well-being — but neither could they ignore the herd, their true family as they saw it now. It called to them in the backs of their minds: comforting, safe, familiar.

Sandra tensed at Dr. Trimble's touch, the cold metal surface of his scanner connecting to her thin belly-fur sending a chill across her body. It was too early to tell specifics, but Frank had assembled a rudimentary tool from components in his lab to identify fertilised ova, detecting variations on Sandra's existing genome, which would signal the presence of a developing pregnancy.

His display read two distinct genetic compounds within her womb. Two eggs, it must be...

Frank completed his initial check-up and addressed the anticipation-wracked trio. In his best praising voice he spoke:

“Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Reimond, it's twins!"