The Headhunters Race (Headhunters #1)

by Kimberly Afe

“Avene!” he says, his eyes brightening. He rubs Martha’s forehead.” It was the raid. They cut her leg wide open. They were about to do worse when McCoy came along.”

  “Is she going to be all right?”

  His eyes fall to Martha as he shrugs and shakes his head, like he doesn’t know.

  “She can’t walk?”

  “No. McCoy told us to stay put and let her rest. He’ll get the proof we need for the leisure prison.”

  I’m relieved to hear that McCoy is okay. “What about Jake? Was Jake with him? A little kid?”

  Jim nods. “Yeah, he had a kid with him. Nice kid. He and McCoy made sure we had plenty of wood and water before they left.”

  Thank goodness, I think. He’s just a kid. If anything had happened to him …. “How long has it been since they left?”

  “A couple of hours. Not much ahead of you.”

  “Has anyone else come through here? Any of the prisoners?” I ask.

  Jim carefully moves Martha’s head to a blanket and gets to his feet. “No. McCoy said no one knows about it, unless they stumble on it by accident.”

  “I hate to leave you like this but I need to get going.”

  Jim adds wood to his fire. “We’re fine. McCoy said if you came by, to head due south and don’t deviate, unless you want to be fresh pickings for the cannibals. He said to meet him at the three ladies at nightfall. McCoy said you’ll know the monolith when you see it.”

  Suddenly, I remember my worth. How do I know it’s not a trap? I’m worth legions and he knows it. But what he doesn’t know is that I know. I decide that’s how I use this to my advantage. I’ll use him just like he uses me. I can use McCoy to get safely to Millers Creek and back. Let him think he’s got me, and when we’re almost home, I part ways without his knowledge.

  Jim relights the fire, looking up at me, probably wondering what I’m thinking. I can’t tell him. If McCoy is returning with the proof the Greenies need, Jim would be loyal to McCoy, not me. “Thanks for the info.”

  “One more thing,” he says, holding up a canteen. “You’ll need to take more water. There isn’t anywhere to fill up for about fifteen miles and two canteens won’t cut it.”

  “Don’t worry,” I say, grinning. “I’ve got three full canteens. You keep it.” I remember all the extra food I’ve got. “Here, I’ve also amassed a pile of food.” I hand over several bars and dried meat, and a couple of packets of nuts.

  Jim’s shaking his head, smiling, and I’m wondering why when he tells me. “You know, Avene, you are one of a kind. I said that to McCoy too, but actually you’re two of a kind. You’re both special people. Take care of each other out there.”

  That’s not what I expected to hear. I try to smile anyway. McCoy is one of a kind for sure. But we are definitely not alike. He’s got his agenda and I’ve got mine and it doesn’t include taking care of McCoy. He can take care of himself.

  I start through the cave toward the light, focusing my thoughts on finding the three ladies. When I’m clear of the cave I check my compass and look out over the flat, dry land to where the brass arrow is pointing. Directly in my path are four large pillar-type rocks, each separated by a lengthy distance. They’re as tall as the skyscrapers my mother once showed me in an old photo she kept of her hometown. I’ll use these as my goals to move across the desert. I’m certain I can make the day’s journey with just one stop in between, as long as I stick to a steady pace.

  The sun is already relentless. I shed my flannel shirt, stuff it inside my pack along with the compass, and set my sights on the first pillar. I decide I better take a few swigs of water if I’m not planning to stop for a while and, when I’m finished, I take off.

  I remember to control my breaths. Breathing right is important so I don’t invite a side ache.

  In. In. Out. Out.

  Breathing, jogging, breathing, jogging.

  I center on my first goal as dust swirls up around my feet and the sun continues to hail its blistering rays down on me. By the time I reach the first pillar, the top of my head burns like the inside of an oven.

  My legs propel me to the second goal in no time and then the third. After I pass the third tower-like structure, two more materialize through a dusty haze in the distance. This is good. Mini goals keep me on track and give me something to work toward.

  Once I reach the fifth pillar, I allow myself to stop. I find a spot on the shady side of the rock where the sun can’t harass me. I pull out my water and some nuts and dried meat. For some reason, the nuts taste really good, so I spend the next several minutes gorging myself on them in between downing one canteen of water. Afterwards, I find my lids getting a bit droopy. A slight breeze caresses my skin, but with too much ground still to cover there’s no time for a nap. I snap myself awake and check the compass to make sure I’m still on track.

  Using the sun as my clock, I figure it’s high noon and time to get moving. It’s directly overhead and I think I’ve gone half the distance I need to before I meet up with McCoy and Jake. I’m ready to step off for another long jog when I realize something has been bothering me, but I’ve been too consumed by eating and drinking and resting to stop and think about it until now. My scalp is burning and itchy.

  I touch the top, gently. It feels as raw as my neck where the death collar continually rubs at my skin. I pull out my flannel shirt and wrap it around my head so that it forms a legionnaire-style hat, covering my scalp and neck and ears.

  With everything put away, I move out and look ahead to see how many pillars I can spot. I’m pleasantly surprised there are only three more until the desert is swallowed up by a mountain range, which means Millers Creek isn’t too far off.

  I’m just settling into my pace when a glimmer flickers from the ground and catches my attention. The shiny object is ahead on my left, about ten yards from a dead tree. At first I think it’s a pile of clothing and assorted junk. Until I see the bodies, lying face down, and a gasp catches in my throat. As far as I know, McCoy and Jake are the only ones that know about this trail. I slow a bit, knowing I should check. Knowing if it’s them they might need my help. But I’m not to deviate from my plan. I told myself I can only stop once, yet my conscience tells me the right thing to do is to check. More than that, I need to know.

  I slip the hunter’s knife from its sheath, ready for anything. A trap, a hoax, I don’t know, but the closer I get, the faster my heart beats. The wind picks up and my chest tightens in sickening realization when I see that one is tall and the other is short. The stench of death hits me in a gust of dirt and sand and I scramble to cover my mouth and nose with the corner of my legionnaire’s hat.

  Don’t let it be McCoy and Jake. I sweep the area once to be sure no one is watching me, but it’s clear. I circle round them because if I’m still running, I’m not exactly deviating. When I’m finally looking down on the bodies, relief is what overwhelms me, so much so that I find myself tearing up. It isn’t Jake and McCoy. It’s an older man and a woman and it looks as though someone has already rummaged through their belongings. The man’s pockets are turned out and their shoes are gone. Except for the barrette shimmering in the woman’s hair, they have no valuables.

  I notice they don’t have collars either. I’m not sure if they came from Millers Creek or Water Junction or somewhere else. It doesn’t matter now so I say a little prayer and move on.

  I’m back on point and nearing the sixth pillar when the wind starts howling and whipping, stirring up dust and bearing dust devils all across the landscape, like someone got inside Mother Nature’s craw and she’s throwing a tantrum over it. I slow a bit to adjust my hat to cover my face, leaving only my eyes exposed, and tuck the end through a buttonhole. I push ahead.

  But when I get to the seventh pillar, I’m overcome with flying sand and dust and nearly blinded. I can’t breathe. The wind shrieks all around me. My body is pelted by small rocks and grains of sand. My exposed arms sting with each gritty impact and my eyes burn. I can barely open them as
I fight to take a step under the darkening sky.

  Lightning cracks overhead. I duck instinctively. I need to reach the pillar but I can no longer see it. I count on my sense of direction to get me there. Two steps forward, one step back is all the storm allows. Visibility in every direction is zero, but sometimes I get a flicker of the rock ahead, when the wind takes a stunted pause. A gust of wind swells under my leg as I take another step and I lose my footing. I’m knocked sideways to the ground.

  I’m thinking my only option might be to hug the desert floor and wait it out when powerful arms reach around and yank me up. For a moment I’m stunned senseless, because I’ve been caught completely off guard. I’m barely on my feet while I’m being dragged away, and with a surge in the beat of my heart, I realize I’m in the hands of a cannibal.

  The cannibal steers me behind the pillar where the wind is not as strong. I see a figure huddled next to the rock and that’s where the cannibal shoves me to the ground.

  “Jake!” yells McCoy and I start breathing fast, overwhelmed and relieved all at the same time that I won’t be eaten.

  Jake peeks out from the blanket, though I can barely see him as we scoot in underneath. He reaches for my hand in the darkness. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  I smile even though he can’t see me and squeeze his hand. I shake off my pack and set it in my lap. “You guys didn’t get very far,” I say, looking toward McCoy, but his head is right next to mine and our foreheads gently collide.

  “We stopped to rest when the dust storm swept in on us,” says McCoy. “I thought I’d go out and watch for you, just in case you made it. I’m lucky there was a slight lull and I caught a glimpse of you.”

  The space beneath the blanket brightens a bit so I smile and nod because I don’t know what to say. McCoy smiles back and the way his lip curves so high and his eyes shine, I think maybe they do care for me. Jake leans his head on my shoulder.

  “Did you run into any trouble with the prisoners?” asks McCoy.

  My smile disappears. Instead my jaw flexes because I’m trying to hold my tongue as the reality of Clint smacks me upside the head. Of course they care for me! What am I thinking? I’m the backup plan for their freedom. Or at the very least, I’m freedom for one and Gavin is freedom for the other. This is what happens when I don’t keep Verla front and center, and right now she’s telling me to lie so I don’t let on that I know I’m a prize. “No, no trouble.”

  McCoy doesn’t say anything else and I think Jake has fallen asleep. I lean my head against the rock and close my eyes, dozing in and out of a restless slumber, waiting for the storm to end, replaying the events of the last few days in my head and worrying about whether I’ll make it to the end.

  ***

  “You guys ready?” says McCoy. He’s standing over us, the blanket no longer covering our heads. “We should try to make it to the three ladies tonight while we still have a little light.”

  I rise to my feet, blinking myself awake. I feel gritty, like the sand has embedded itself in my skin. I scratch at my head and even though my head was protected, my hair and scalp have been thoroughly washed in tiny particles of sand that found their way beneath my head covering. This on top of the mud and ash Zita scrubbed into me.

  Jake grabs my wrist, which startles me. “What happened to your arm?”

  The piece of flannel I used to cover the wound must have been blown off in the storm. “It’s just scratches,” I say, covering it with my hand. “It looks worse than it feels.” It’s a lie. It’s actually sore, especially with all the grit that has been lodged within it.

  McCoy gives me a funny look. “What kind of scratches?” He takes my arm, turning it back and forth to inspect. “Looks like bear.”

  I hold my gaze steady but I don’t say anything. He’s too smart for his own good. It just makes me realize I’ll have to be smarter than he is every step of the way.

  “Oh my God,” says Jake. “Look at her back!”

  McCoy whirls me around. “Your tee-shirt is ripped clean through!”

  I cringe when McCoy lifts my tee to take a look. Jake gasps, and then steps in front of me with both eyes about as big as his head. “Was it a bear?” he asks.

  I grunt in surrender. “Yes. It was a bear,” I say, shaking myself loose from McCoy’s prying eyes. “But as you can see, I’m fine.” Jake is so enthralled by the bear encounter I end up telling the story in abbreviated format as we continue south. Of course, I leave out all the parts about Clint and the fact that I was way off course.

  The closer we get to the mountains, the more desert growth there is. Brush and trees and cacti are scattered across the ground. By nightfall, we reach the mountains. McCoy points out the three ladies, although it’s hard to discern in the sliver of moonlight that they look like ladies at all. They look more like tall slabs of rock staggered like dominoes. McCoy turns us east and we follow along the base of the mountain. I’m wondering how much farther when he starts to climb and I’m not sure how much farther I can go. I take a second to catch my breath. I’m thirsty but when I check for water, each of my canteens is empty.

  “How much longer?” I ask.

  McCoy doesn’t even stop. “Just over this ridge,” he says, out of breath.

  With a goal, I can make it. Although I’m thinking it will be over the ridge and then down the ridge. That’s what I prepare myself for. I stumble, sliding back a foot or so before I catch myself.

  Jake turns to me. “You okay, Avene?”

  “I’m okay.”

  Finally, we hit a trail and the going is a lot easier. We swing around and McCoy enters a natural cleft in the mountainside. It’s narrow as we shuffle over rocks and down into a gulley that looks like it flowed with water recently but has since dried up. I hope McCoy has a backup plan. All of us are thirsty, tired, and hungry. When we reach the bottom, the hard ground gives way to lush vegetation, trees, and meadow grass—an oasis in the desert lit by partial moonlight. It looks like heaven.

  McCoy takes a left into a cluster of trees. The air is cool inside. The canopy rustles above our heads in the breeze. My ears perk up at the sound of cascading water. We stop near the charred remains of an old fire. “We’ll camp here tonight. Boom says the cannibals don’t travel into these mountains. They mostly keep to the flatlands.” He looks over at me. “There’s a pool with a small waterfall back behind those desert palms if you want to get water and clean up.”

  I drop my pack next to the fire pit, removing the canteens. Jake blazes a trail ahead of me, bursting through the understory of shrubs and exotic-looking plants. A shout of exuberance on the other side followed by a splash makes me laugh.

  “Hurry up, Avene,” Jake yells.

  I glance back at McCoy before I step through the dense leaves sheltering the pool beyond. He’s busy gathering wood, seemingly not interested in relaxing just yet. I open my mouth to speak, but decide he’ll take a break when he’s ready. “I’m coming,” I say and push into the hidden retreat.

  My senses explode. The sounds and smells and sights of the oasis joyously overwhelm me. Crickets chirp and desert cicadas buzz in my ear. Water crashes over the rocks into an oblong-shaped pool.

  I take a few steps before I realize how difficult it is to walk. My boots sink into a layer of sand. I remove them and my socks, barely taking my eyes off the water foaming at the base of the fall. The smell of damp earth and wet moss is refreshing considering the mud and dust I’ve been breathing the past few days.

  “Get in!” yells Jake.

  I can hardly wait to dip myself in. For a moment though, I stand there longingly, reluctant to peel off my clothes in front of Jake and wondering if I should wait until he’s finished.

  He’s a nine-year-old for God’s sakes!

  I knew I could count on Verla to remind me that this is not the time to be ruled by modesty. Besides, the only light is the moon. Wishing I could remove the collar, I strip to my underclothes and tee and wade in. I’m greeted by warm water. Like the
warm baths my mother used to give me as a child. It’s unexpected, but lovely. I swim to the waterfall where Jake is hanging out and let the water rush over my body, using my fingers to scrub myself clean. It feels good to have the grit, dirt, and dust free from my skin.

  Jake is swimming like a fish. I cup my hand and fill it with fresh water showering from above and drink until my belly is sloshing full. Clean, hydrated, and ten pounds lighter, I stretch out on the rock next to the waterfall, close my eyes, and pretend for a moment that I’m not a prisoner. I imagine that I’m free. Free to travel and live how I want and that I don’t have vengeance in my heart.

  “Don’t you wish we could stay here forever?” says Jake, spreading out next to me.

  “It would be nice,” I say, staring up at the stars, watching tiny bats flitter from one tree to another. “But we can’t. We’re in a race to save our lives, remember?”

  Jake turns on his side to face me. “Yeah, but we could stay one more day. McCoy says there can’t be too many racers left so he’s not that worried. Why do you think we even bothered to track you all this time?”

  I bolt upright. “What? Have you been tracking me since I left you?”

  Jake sits up too, biting his lip, his brow furrowing like he’s realized he might have said something wrong. “Well, not the whole time, just since yesterday after lunch. We saw you at the creek where it splits off. McCoy was worried while you were gone and swore he’d find you again so no harm came to ya.”

  I relax a little, relieved they don’t know about Clint. “Did you guys follow me up the trail that dead ends? And you decided not to tell me about the secret cave?”

  “Well, McCoy didn’t want you to think we were stalking you. Anyway, he knew you’d figure it out in the morning.”

  McCoy is definitely planning to use me. If I wasn’t certain before, I am now. Jake starts sniffing the air at the same moment a familiar aroma manifests itself around me. “Smells like rabbit,” I say.

  Jake’s eyes light up. “It probably is. McCoy caught a couple yesterday.” He leaps to his feet and holds out a hand. “Let’s go eat!”