reminder about who’s in charge. And let it be known that I’m the only one with the key to unlock it,” he says, holding up a chain from around his neck with a key dangling from it. “Now there’s one more little catch for those of you looking to get to the leisure prison: you need to prove you’ve been to Millers Creek. That means you better bring back some of their Millers Creek currency or a page from their daily gazette before I’ll unlock your collar.”
There goes my idea that prisoners will attempt to escape. Now I’ll be fighting everyone else to get back before they do. I should have known I wouldn’t get off so easy.
“Avene,” says King. “You’re first.”
I almost choke on my own spittle while the citizens of Water Junction go completely silent. He knows who I am and he’s letting me run? What does this mean? When something seems too good to be true with King, it is. It always is. I should have worn McCoy’s hoodie! I shouldn’t have laughed and whooped and hollered with the other prisoners. Snaggletooth probably gave me away.
Now I’m at a disadvantage because King knows I’m running, but I don’t know what deadly trick he has up his sleeve. A guard snatches my arm and drags me up to the podium.
“Isn’t it ironic that Gavin’s mother-killing sister is going after her own brother,” says King while he places the collar around my neck.
“He’s not my brother,” I spit.
King sighs dramatically. “Well, you’re right. Technically he’s your mother-murdering stepbrother.”
The collar clicks into place. It’s cold and constricting. I gulp for air and all I can think about is what if King doesn’t unlock it when I return?
I stand there, waiting for the guard to send me back to formation when King snatches the shank from my sheath. He takes another puff on his cigarette. “Oh, Avene. This will never do.” King snaps his fingers at Victor. “Victor, let Avene borrow your blades.”
Victor looks like a little kid about to cry when told to hand over his toy, but he pulls out two sleek black ninja knives from his boot and hands them to me. I recognize them instantly, the end of the handle forms a ring where I used to carry them on my middle finger and practice twirling. And there’s the “A” etched at the tip of each blade, so subtle that only King, my mother, and I knew the initial was there. They were mine.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Victor whisper to one of the guards. Who in turn steps down to the formation of prisoners and whispers at a bald, muscle-gifted, tattoo-ridden man I guess to be in his early thirties.
King replaces my shank, drawing my attention away from them. “You might need this too.”
The townspeople and the prisoners alike boo, yelling my name, calling me a murderer, and now I know why King is letting me run the race. He’s set me up as a target. Someone everyone will want to kill first.
King looks at me like he’s shocked I’m still standing here. “What are you waiting for, Avene?” he asks, holding his hands in the air. “Tick tock.”
My mouth drops while King laughs like it’s hilarious to send his stepdaughter on a death race.
“Let the Headhunters Race begin!” yells King and the crowd goes wild. The guards begin attaching collars to the other prisoners as I’m running down the steps. I snatch one of the darker packs from the pile, not bothering to slip it on yet as I sprint between the ropes, dodging objects the heckling citizens of Water Junction are throwing at me. I ignore them. I ignore the heaviness around my neck and continue toward the mountain. I ignore everything because it won’t be long before there’s a trail of prisoners right behind me.
I judge the mountain is only about half a mile off. I scan its face as I approach, looking for the best way up, where the others won’t easily follow, but at the same time not too difficult. I want to be first to the other side and well on my way before I come into
There goes my idea that prisoners will attempt to escape. Now I’ll be fighting everyone else to get back before they do. I should have known I wouldn’t get off so easy.
“Avene,” says King. “You’re first.”
I almost choke on my own spittle while the citizens of Water Junction go completely silent. He knows who I am and he’s letting me run? What does this mean? When something seems too good to be true with King, it is. It always is. I should have worn McCoy’s hoodie! I shouldn’t have laughed and whooped and hollered with the other prisoners. Snaggletooth probably gave me away.
Now I’m at a disadvantage because King knows I’m running, but I don’t know what deadly trick he has up his sleeve. A guard snatches my arm and drags me up to the podium.
“Isn’t it ironic that Gavin’s mother-killing sister is going after her own brother,” says King while he places the collar around my neck.
“He’s not my brother,” I spit.
King sighs dramatically. “Well, you’re right. Technically he’s your mother-murdering stepbrother.”
The collar clicks into place. It’s cold and constricting. I gulp for air and all I can think about is what if King doesn’t unlock it when I return?
I stand there, waiting for the guard to send me back to formation when King snatches the shank from my sheath. He takes another puff on his cigarette. “Oh, Avene. This will never do.” King snaps his fingers at Victor. “Victor, let Avene borrow your blades.”
Victor looks like a little kid about to cry when told to hand over his toy, but he pulls out two sleek black ninja knives from his boot and hands them to me. I recognize them instantly, the end of the handle forms a ring where I used to carry them on my middle finger and practice twirling. And there’s the “A” etched at the tip of each blade, so subtle that only King, my mother, and I knew the initial was there. They were mine.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Victor whisper to one of the guards. Who in turn steps down to the formation of prisoners and whispers at a bald, muscle-gifted, tattoo-ridden man I guess to be in his early thirties.
King replaces my shank, drawing my attention away from them. “You might need this too.”
The townspeople and the prisoners alike boo, yelling my name, calling me a murderer, and now I know why King is letting me run the race. He’s set me up as a target. Someone everyone will want to kill first.
King looks at me like he’s shocked I’m still standing here. “What are you waiting for, Avene?” he asks, holding his hands in the air. “Tick tock.”
My mouth drops while King laughs like it’s hilarious to send his stepdaughter on a death race.
“Let the Headhunters Race begin!” yells King and the crowd goes wild. The guards begin attaching collars to the other prisoners as I’m running down the steps. I snatch one of the darker packs from the pile, not bothering to slip it on yet as I sprint between the ropes, dodging objects the heckling citizens of Water Junction are throwing at me. I ignore them. I ignore the heaviness around my neck and continue toward the mountain. I ignore everything because it won’t be long before there’s a trail of prisoners right behind me.
I judge the mountain is only about half a mile off. I scan its face as I approach, looking for the best way up, where the others won’t easily follow, but at the same time not too difficult. I want to be first to the other side and well on my way before I come into
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