Page 5 of Cultivating Caden
Chapter 2
The harsh lighthad Caden blinking against it. He cracked his eyes open, wanting to adjust to it, but when he saw where he was, he closed them again. People milled around him, muttering among themselves. He did his best to control his breathing, not wanting to have a full-out panic attack. After what happened with those men….
He’d stopped at some dinky station when his car sputtered and died. The men had pulled in after he did. They were loud, belligerent. The attendant turned off the light, but that just riled them more. They threw things at the windows, shattering them. With shaky hands, Caden had tried to dial 911, until they broke down the door and a scream echoed out of the small shack of a station. Caden tried to run, but they were on him before he could get to his car.
They pummeled his ribs, his face. He remembered begging them not to hit him, to just leave him alone. The big bearded man, clad in a black leather jacket and blue jeans, stood over him, a menacing figure in the shadowy parking lot. From somewhere in the distance, another scream emanated. The big guy shouted to keep him quiet, and a moment later, everything was silent.
“You’re a pretty one.” He moved closer, reached out, and stroked Caden’s face. “Might just keep you for myself.”
Caden turned his head away, but the guy grabbed his chin and squeezed hard. Caden cried out and tried to push him away.
Just when Caden thought the man couldn’t be uglier, he sneered, and a shiver raced through Caden.
“Now, see, that wasn’t nice. When I touch you, you should be thanking me.”
He drew his hand back, and before Caden could utter a word, the guy lashed out, striking Caden on the side of the head, driving him to the ground. As soon as he was down, the kicking started. Pain seared Caden’s body as a booted foot connected with his face, a loud crack sending spasms through his jaw.
Over and over the blows rained down, until Caden wasn’t sure which direction was up.
Then the man unzipped his pants….
No, Caden needed to stop thinking about them. He was dead, so why did the past matter? Just because he’d been hurting Caden, telling him how good it was going to be for him.
People still moved around him, so Caden did his best to repress his shudder.
As much as he wished it, the memory wouldn’t let go.
Several of the other bikers returned from where they were, doing up their pants and laughing. Had they hurt the attendant? Killed him? Is that what they’d do to Caden?
When they got to where Caden was, the big biker snapped his fingers. A moment later, several pairs of hands were on Caden, stripping off his clothes. Fear jolted Caden at the thought of what was about to happen, and he screamed.
Things after that were hazy, but he remembered his cries weren’t the only ones. The stillness of the night had been shattered. The men around him, who moments before had been laughing and making crude jokes, shrieked. And Caden lay there, in a pool of his own blood, his hands covering his ears, trying to drown out the sounds that he’d never be able to forget.
And then, everything went silent. He dared to open his eyes, and when his gaze landed on the ashen face of the man who’d appeared to be the leader of the group, Caden vomited. What had happened to him? His head had been torn from his body and lay at Caden’s feet, mangled sockets where his eyes had been. Then Caden sat up and saw the rest of the men. They were all dead. All of them had been ripped apart.
Scrabbling back, Caden hit one of their motorcycles. He leaped up, spun, and jumped on. Pain ripped through him, and he nearly fell, but he had to get away. He hadn’t ridden a motorcycle in years, and that was more of a dirt bike, but he remembered the basics. He cast a glance back, fear rippling through him, kicked the bike into gear, and sped off.
He didn’t make it far.
In his terror, he spun the bike off the side of the road and ended up in the ditch, naked, cold, and lost as hell. He had no clue what to do, so he started walking. The forests in this area were dense, but he knew there had to be campsites around. If he could get to one, maybe he could get someone to call the police. But as he walked, his terror increased. Every noise had him crying out, afraid whatever had killed the men might have come after him.
Blood still oozed from his wounds, and Caden’s head started to swim. He huddled against a tree, certain he was going to freeze to death, but when he woke, the sun was high overhead and he was blanketed by a carpet of leaves. It wasn’t exactly warm, but better than his naked skin being exposed to the elements.
He got up, noting the drying of the blood that caked his body. He needed to wash it off, afraid it might attract animals. He barked a hysterical laugh at the thought they’d give a damn that he was naked. Maybe it would be best if he just stayed where he was. His friends were expecting him later today, so they’d have to be worried that he didn’t contact them. God, he wished he could have completed the call before they got to him. He had no idea what happened to his phone.
He trudged through the woods for hours, stopping to rest when he became too tired. Oddly, each time he woke, he was covered in leaves. He spotted a sign, directing him toward the cabins, and he rejoiced. They’d help him—they had to.
Night fell before he got too far, but he was determined he’d make it there. He didn’t have any other choice. He caught a glimpse of lights in the distance, and his heart soared. He’d survive this after all.
Then came the growls.
Caden swore his blood froze in his veins when the deep, menacing sound reached his ears. He wasn’t aware there were wolves in the area.Of course there are, you idiot.How could he be so stupid?
He ran faster, his lungs burning. He was so close to escape. Just a few hundred yards and he’d be okay. Then branches began snapping too close for comfort, and the panting breath of some animal had him begging for anyone to save him. He’d always been a good man, and he didn’t want to die.
When the beast lunged at him, Caden knew he was dead. He threw his hands up, hoping to hell the end would be quick. And, just like they said, his life flashed before his eyes. Visions of his mother filled Caden’s mind. How when he was five, she’d stood shaking her head after he’d broken his arm falling out of a tree. He could see her standing over him when he was twelve, running a hand over his burning forehead. At eighteen she’d come to see him, laden with his favorite foods, after the man Caden thought would be the love of his life told him that things weren’t working out.
And now, at twenty-six, Caden would die, alone, with only two people to mourn him.
