Free The Headhunters Race (Headhunters #1) by Kimberly Afe Page A

with nothing. It wouldn’t be right to leave him defenseless. Worse though is Verla’s voice in my head again, reminding me about the cost of owing people. I run to catch up with him and hand them back. “I have one and I’ll make do.” I say, patting my thigh and scowling at the little raider. Jake’s eyes widen and he scoots over to the other side of McCoy. Good. Maybe he won’t mess with me or my stuff anymore.
    We walk along the stream. According to Boom this will veer us away from the typical route and away from the cannibals. McCoy and Jake stay ahead of me and every so often the little raider glances back. I guess to make sure I’m not sneaking up to slit his throat. After a while of hiking along the stream, weaving through trees and climbing over boulders, the stream flows into an open grassy meadow. I follow behind; grateful McCoy has now picked up the pace, although he’s not running.
    “Are we going to run at all today?” I ask. “We’d get farther and make better time.”
    “Naw,” says McCoy. “We’ll get just as far by walking fast. Running uses up a lot of energy. Energy we don’t have to waste.”
    I’m not sure I agree. Then again, I’m not up to full speed after yesterday so maybe walking is a good idea for a little while.
    Jake swats at an insect and I realize for a little kid, he’s keeping up pretty well. I’m wondering what their stories are, Jake’s and McCoy’s, when I think I hear a noise at the edge of the forest. I glance back, scan the trees, and see nothing. “Did you guys hear that?”
    They both turn and look at me like I’m crazy, both shaking their heads.
    “I think someone’s been tracking me since the race started. Maybe we should get back into the trees for cover,” I say.
    “I was the one tracking you,” says McCoy.
    “Why?” I ask, stunned that he’d been following me from the beginning. I told him I didn’t need his help!
    “I made someone a promise that I’d keep my eye on you.”
    Zita. She was sneaky about the whole thing, getting me into the race, making sure I was hooked up with McCoy. I guess she doesn’t trust my ability to do it all on my own. I don’t blame her. I’d do the same if I were the one still in prison counting on her to win the race. Counting on her to survive so she’d come back and bust me out.
    After a couple of hours of walking through the meadow, I’m ready to jog. To really get moving. Instead, McCoy decides it’s time to stop for a rest. He and Jake pick out a spot near the stream and we all sit, gulp down some water, and eat.
    I’m finishing off my first canteen when I notice Jake messing with his collar. McCoy is doing the same. I set my canteen down on the grass, jump to my feet, and walk around behind them. Their collars are rubbing their skin raw. Jake’s is worse than McCoy’s; it’s oozing. “You guys need to pad your collars.”
    Jake tips his head at me like he doesn’t understand. “Look,” I say, turning and lifting my hair from the back of my neck.”
    “Oh,” says Jake.
    He still looks clueless so I pull out my knife. He stiffens, but relaxes when I cut another strip from the bottom of my flannel shirt. “Lean your head forward a little.”
    Jake’s eyes go wide and he looks at McCoy, who nods approvingly.
    Carefully, I wrap the cloth around the back of his collar a couple of times. I wish we had bandages to protect the wound, but at least the cloth will help protect his skin from rubbing against the metal. “How’s that?”
    “Better.”
    I move to McCoy. Using another section of cloth, I wrap it. My fingers brush across his skin and suddenly I’m distracted for a moment, staring at the back of his head, curious once again what his story is. Wondering where he came from, where he grew up, why I’d never seen him until a few months ago. Why he’s in prison?
    I snap myself out of the preoccupation with his past and finish the dressing. “All done.”
    His head remains down a few seconds