Free Target by Joe Craig Page B

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 thatI’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. Hisother 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