Target (6 page)

Squinting into the sun, Jimmy imagined he was in the air for minutes, but almost at once the horse’s front legs hit earth. The impact jarred through Jimmy’s body. The horse was racing away now and sped into the next field flat out.

Here the ground was uneven and on the horizon was some kind of industrial complex, the only clutch of buildings for miles around. Jimmy watched Mitchell’s head disappear over a dip in the landscape. Unable to see him for the moment, Jimmy charged on. He knew he could catch him.

He rounded the top of the hillock, looking for Mitchell up ahead. But the boy wasn’t there. Then Jimmy felt a lash on his cheek. He turned to see Mitchell drawing up next to him, grinning. In one hand he held the reins to his horse and in the other he held a loop of strap. With one flick of his hand he sent it flying towards Jimmy and it wrapped round his neck like a lasso.

Jimmy grabbed at it, but too late. Mitchell pulled him out of his saddle. The strap was tight round Jimmy’s throat and he flew off his horse. He smacked into the ground, face first, but still travelling. Mitchell had the
strap wound tight round his wrist. The other end was choking Jimmy.

Mitchell dragged him through the dirt, never relenting in his speed. Jimmy’s horse was still galloping behind, but it was no good to him now. He felt the ground cutting into him, scraping any bit of his skin that made contact. He twisted to try and free himself, but that only wound the strap tighter round his neck. He gasped for air, snatching for any breath he could force down. He gulped a mouthful of dust.

Jimmy’s face was deep red. He scratched at his neck to loosen the strap but it did no good. He could feel his brain crying out for oxygen and his vertebrae straining not to snap. Without realising what he was doing or why, his fingers reached into his mouth. The taste of soil cut through him, but still no air.

He gripped one of his back teeth. Then came a burst of pain so intense he prayed to pass out, but his programming quickly swamped it and neutered the agony. Blood prickled on his tongue. He gripped his tooth tightly in his fist. It had come away whole; he felt for the spikes at its root.

He could hardly see now. Debris slammed into his face and his eye sockets were swollen with bruising. It took all his effort to prevent himself blacking out. Still not able to think, his life in the hands of his programming, he punched the tooth into his neck with a sharp jab, just above the strap. Trapped somewhere in his head was a human boy convinced he was about to die. His fingers
twisted the tooth down and in, then ripped it straight out again. It tore his skin from the inside, but burst through the leather strap as well.

Felix and Georgie trudged into the farmhouse, covered in mud and bruises. Georgie’s mother caught them in the hallway.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“Horse riding,” Georgie grumbled.

Helen Coates gave a little chuckle. “You were the ones who wanted to go out and have fun. Where are the others?”

“They were better at riding,” Felix replied, as miserable with the afternoon as Georgie, “and Jimmy wanted to follow them.”

Helen stood between them and the kitchen. “What do you mean, ‘them’?” She stared into Felix’s face. “Who else is there?”

Georgie glared at Felix. He looked sheepish, realising he’d given her away.

“I suppose it’s OK to tell you,” Georgie sighed. “We met some boy in the village a few days ago. He wanted to come with.”

Helen’s shoulders tensed up instantly.
Stay calm,
she told herself.
Don’t be paranoid.
“What boy?” she asked as casually as she could.

“He’s just some boy, OK?” Georgie shrugged, turning to go upstairs. “His name’s Mitchell.”

Helen froze. “He’s English, about your age,” she gasped, “a little shorter than you, with light brown hair probably shaved very short.”

“How do you know?” Georgie spun round to see the deadly serious look on her mother’s face.

“I saw his projected imagery programme thirteen years ago.”

Georgie and Felix were stunned. Georgie tried to speak, but nothing came out of her mouth.

“Get in the truck, both of you,” Helen said firmly. “You need to show me where they went.”

J
IMMY HEAVED IN
a desperate lungful of air. He spat the grime from his mouth and wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. Instinctively, he patted the wound in his neck. It felt dry. But he couldn’t rest yet. The ground was drumming under him. Looking up from the mud, he saw the silhouette of Mitchell turning his horse. He was charging back for Jimmy. He clearly wasn’t going to stop until Jimmy was dead.

Jimmy pushed himself on to his feet then ran towards his own horse. It was galloping past to meet its stablemate. Jimmy caught the pommel in his hand and threw himself up into the saddle. It took a commanding heave to wheel the horse round. He managed it with Mitchell still a few metres away.

“Come on,” Jimmy whispered through his teeth as if the horse could understand him. Somehow it must have sensed Jimmy’s desperation because it kicked away with a burst of speed. Mitchell responded by
digging his heels in and they both dashed across the field.

In the open country Jimmy had nowhere to hide. The leak of blood in his mouth was already clotting, and the incision in his neck exposed only a smudge of grey beneath the surface. Still every gash cried out for him to stop. He fixed his eyes on the buildings up ahead. If he could make it there, he had a chance.

Mitchell was gaining ground. The two horses devoured the space in front of them, straining to race faster than they ever had. The shadows of the buildings grew as they approached. A rusty sign announced the entrance in French; it was an industrial recycling facility.

Jimmy didn’t ease up. He couldn’t; Mitchell was almost level now. In one more huge leap Jimmy’s horse soared over the fence and landed with a thud inside the complex. A second later, he heard Mitchell’s horse do the same behind him.

Jimmy scoured the corrugated iron barns for some way of losing his attacker. The place was deserted. Mitchell was too close now. He reached forward and grasped the back of Jimmy’s saddle. Locked together, they tore through the recycling plant, Mitchell pulling on Jimmy’s horse to catch up. Soon he drew level and lashed out at Jimmy’s neck. Jimmy was quick enough to stave off the blow. They traded one-armed hits while still surging forward.

Then they plunged through the entrance to one of the barns. Mitchell lunged out of his saddle to seize Jimmy’s reins. Jimmy looked up and realised why. They were riding headlong towards the iron face of a machine. Jimmy tried to wrestle control away from Mitchell, but he couldn’t turn the horse away. Mitchell clenched his jaw in a twisted grimace. Was he determined to clatter them both into a horrible crash?

Jimmy thought desperately for some way out, but Mitchell had control of both horses. Then, just in time, Mitchell pulled on the reins. The horses started to turn, but Mitchell had other plans for Jimmy. He gripped the back of Jimmy’s shirt, and just as the horses came to a halt, hoisted him upwards. The impetus sent Jimmy high into the air. He flew over the side of the machine ahead of them and crash-landed inside it.

He found himself sitting on a pile of metal panels, twists of wire and torn sheets of plastic. Suddenly, the pile seemed to grumble. The grumble grew to an immense din then Jimmy noticed that the rubbish beneath him was steadily shifting. Mitchell had turned on the machine.

Gradually, a hole emerged at Jimmy’s feet. It opened up like a whirlpool. At the bottom he caught a glimpse of a block of wood dropping into a funnel, where rotating blades thrashed it to splinters. Jimmy was trapped in the loading receptacle of an industrial shredder.

He scrambled to the side, but it was sheer metal. Thinking fast, his injuries still burning for attention, he threw the biggest items he could find up against the wall. If he ever wanted his programming to take him over completely, this was the time. He willed it with all the power in his brain. Piece by piece his pile grew, but the ground was constantly sinking. At last he had done just enough. He clambered up until he could hook his fingers over the side of the container. Then he felt a huge force pushing down on his head.

It was Mitchell. He had climbed up the outside of the machine and he wasn’t going to let Jimmy out. Jimmy’s fingers were slipping. Smeared with blood, he had hardly any grip. He had to hold on. But Mitchell chopped his hand down hard into Jimmy’s shoulder, cutting off the nerves to his fingers. Staring into Mitchell’s ice-cold eyes, Jimmy fell into the shredder.

He tried to swim up through the refuse, but it was churning with too much force. The hydraulic swivel system sucked him down towards the funnel.
Could I survive that?
Jimmy asked himself desperately. His mind was clogged with so many thoughts, but only one certainty – even he wasn’t strong enough to withstand a shredding.

His arms reached out to grab on to something – anything – but one hand clasped only a length of wire and the other nothing more than a nail. Both sank with him. He heard himself scream as his leg came into
contact with hardened alloy steel knives rotating at 1000 rpm. Pain erupted within him. /
can’t be in pain,
he protested,
I’m special.
But the inferno inside him kept doubling.

Blood exploded upwards, spattering Mitchell’s face. He turned away. The scream faded. His job was done. He slid down the outside of the shredder and looked up to see he wasn’t alone. Eva swung her body round and jumped off her horse, which immediately fled. She ran towards Mitchell, terror in her eyes.

Mitchell thought quickly. This wasn’t in his plan. He had wanted to complete his mission without being seen, then tell the others there’d been a terrible accident. This could ruin everything. But then his head cleared – maybe he could use this to his advantage.

“The horse threw him off,” he shouted over the noise of the machinery. “He landed in the shredder. I tried to help him, but the start mechanism is jammed.” He glanced over to the control box he had smashed with a crowbar moments before.

“I know,” Eva yelled back, tears running freely down her face. “I saw you reaching for him.”

“Listen, you have to help me.” Mitchell stared into Eva’s eyes. “It was a terrible accident. But nobody will believe me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a criminal record in England. I have to get away from here. Tell everyone I did my best and that
I’m sorry.” Mitchell waited for the lies to sink in. Eva was gazing at him strangely. Was that a look of admiration? He sprinted back to his horse, seized the reins and hauled himself on. In the distance he could see a truck speeding up the farm track. He had to get away now. But Eva was running towards him.

“Go!” Mitchell shouted. “Get help.”

Eva turned one last time to the huge mechanism that chundered on. Then she looked up at Mitchell. “Take me with you,” she whimpered. Mitchell couldn’t hear her, but he could make out the words from her lips.

Mitchell had seconds to make his decision. Should he kill this girl too? No – two deaths would look less like an accident. Before he could do anything, Eva ran over to Mitchell, clasped his arm and heaved herself up behind him. The horse reared, adjusting to the extra weight. There was no time for Mitchell to argue. With one sharp kick, he sent them flying across the landscape and over the horizon.

The wire bit into Jimmy’s palms as he clung on. The other end was slung over the side of the machine. On it was a nail, bent into a hook. Jimmy hoped Mitchell wouldn’t notice it. That was the only thing holding him in this position: one foot flat against the side, leaning out almost horizontally over the hungry blades. His
other leg hung down limp, spewing blood from half-shredded flesh. Only a layer of some inhuman grey substance held it together.

Jimmy closed his eyes, desperate to shut out the pain. He knew his programming wasn’t fully developed, but he had never expected it to be tested beyond its limits by a situation so extreme. He listened. Until he knew Mitchell had gone he was stuck there. But the noise of the machine was deafening. Then, against that thunderous backdrop, he made out two people shouting. As soon as he heard them, they stopped. Using every bit of strength he had left, Jimmy crept up the wire, hand over hand until he could peek out.

He was just in time to see Mitchell and Eva riding away.

He flopped over the side of the shredder and let go, not caring whether the fall was far or not. The ground was unforgiving, but it was nothing compared to what he had just been through. The noise oppressed his ears. His head was swimming. What if he blacked out? Would he bleed to death before anyone found him? A normal boy would, but would he? The mysteries of his own body tormented him. He could hardly move. He had to attract attention.

Come on!
he ordered himself.
Get moving or you’ll die.
He crawled on his belly across the floor of the barn until he was almost out in the open. At the entrance was a stack of oil canisters. Jimmy heaved one over. /

have to attract attention,
he thought. He looked back at the shredder. A thick trail of blood drew a line between him and the machine.
Is that my blood?
he wondered.
Do I really bleed that much?

With all his might, he shoved the oil canister towards the pistons that drove the shredder. It rumbled across the floor. Just before it was crushed by the pumps in a flash of sparks, Jimmy sheltered on the other side of the barn wall. He slumped there in a heap. The last thing he remembered before he passed out was the heat of the explosion on his back.

The truck was travelling at top speed. Felix and Georgie bounced up and down as Helen charged along the country tracks.

“Are you sure they came this way?” Helen shouted.

“They were going in this direction, but across the field,” Georgie called back, her voice vibrating with the vehicle.

“We left them hours ago though,” Felix cried. “It took us so long to get back.”

Helen twisted her head from side to side, constantly scanning the horizon. Then a movement caught her eye.

“There!” Georgie shrieked. She’d seen it too. Two horses. One black, like Eva’s, and the other chestnut, just like the one Jimmy had been on. But neither had a
rider. They were both galloping towards the truck, away from a group of buildings that looked like a small industrial complex.

A split second later, thick orange flames roared into the sky. The ground shook. Helen reacted quickly. Even in the face of a giant explosion she never lost control of the wheel. The view was obscured now by dense smoke and they could only see snatches of where they were heading. That was enough.

The truck veered off the track, smashing through a fence. They were close now and Helen slammed on the brakes.

“Stay here!” she shouted, but Georgie and Felix were already jumping out of the truck. The three of them ran towards the fire.

“Stay with me!” Helen cried, shielding her face from the dust and heat. As they approached the heart of the explosion, the smog cleared, blown high above them by the wind. It was Felix who saw Jimmy first: tattered and unconscious, slouched against the outside wall of one of the buildings. His leg was torn, leaving ribbons of flesh hanging over a layer of dull grey.

Felix waved to Helen and Georgie, and together they lifted Jimmy, carrying him step by step back to the truck. As they lay him along the seat, his eyes flickered half-open.

“Mitchell…” he murmured. “Eva…”

“Are they in there?” asked Helen desperately.

Jimmy managed a weak shake of his head before he passed out again. Blood oozed out of him, covering the seats. Georgie held his head steady as the truck rumbled back to the farmhouse.