Sharp Shot. Justin Richards

       3

      The car was weaving back and forth across the road as it came up behind them. But the tractor was so wide and the lane so narrow that there was no way past.

      “Only a matter of time before they hit a tyre,” said Rich. “Or one of us.”

      “Any suggestions?” asked Jade, her voice cracking. They’d been in trouble before—several times, in fact, since they’d come to live with their dad. But this was every bit as serious as it got.

      A bullet ripped into the metal cage surrounding the cab, making them both duck down even further. McCain was hunched over the steering wheel.

      Up ahead, at the limit of the headlights, Rich could make out a dark patch in the high hedge. It might be an opening. “Go right!” he yelled, as he saw it was a single-track lane leading off at right angles.

      McCain spun the heavy wheel, the tractor squealed as it turned. There was a smell of burning rubber as the tyres bit into the roadway. For a moment it looked like they weren’t going to make it. Then the tractor punched through the side of the hedge. Branches and leaves raked through the cab, scratching Rich’s face.

      In a moment, they were through. The tractor roared as fast as it would go along the even narrower track. There was grass growing in the middle, and the gravel had worn away. The track was cratered with potholes.

      In the road behind, the pursuing car screeched, engine protesting as it tried to follow. And failed. There was an ear-splitting crash as it buried itself in the hedge.

      But at once it was reversing, lining up and hurtling down the track after them.

      “Farm buildings,” Jade shouted, pointing off to the left.

      The track swung in a shallow curve round towards the farm. But McCain headed straight for the buildings—across a ploughed field. The tractor lurched and bumped. There was no way the car could follow them—it would have to take the long route. McCain killed the headlights.

      “No point in telling them exactly where we are.”

      But even as he finished speaking, there was a flash of lightning, illuminating the scene brightly.

      “Even the gods are on their side,” Rich complained. “And any second we’re going to get soaked.”

      “Better than getting shot,” Jade told him.

      The buildings loomed closer, silhouetted against the deep grey sky. There was a farmhouse, several barns, outbuildings and a cattle shed.

      “Can we double back?” Jade wondered. “Get back to the road?”

      “They might have another car, waiting,” said McCain. “And it’ll take too long to turn round.”

      The tractor bumped up on to a paved courtyard outside the farmhouse. Chickens flew up in surprise and fright as the tractor woke them.

      “No lights in the house,” Rich realised. Now they were closer he could see it was in the process of being rebuilt. “Nobody home.”

      “Probably no phone either,” Jade complained. “Can you get a signal?”

      Rich had been trying. He’d called Ardman, their dad’s boss, but the phone wasn’t connecting. Maybe it was being jammed somehow, but most likely it was just rubbish coverage in the countryside. He checked again. “Nothing. You getting anything?”

      “Who knows,” Jade told him. “My phone’s charging up back at the cottage.”

      Rich didn’t like to think about when he’d last charged his phone.

      The lights from the car seemed a long way back. They’d gained some time, but the car would soon catch them up. Rain was falling heavily now— large drops angled in and quickly drenched Rich.

      “Right,” McCain announced. “Time to lose ourselves.” He turned the tractor towards the group of outbuildings.

      The nearest building was a Dutch barn—barely more than a roof supported by metal pillars. Hay and bags of fertilizer were stacked inside, but there was room for the tractor between them. Once through the barn, Rich could see the lights from the car crossing the courtyard behind them, picking out the bales of hay.

      McCain turned the tractor towards another barn. This one was a proper building, the doors standing open.

      “What if there’s no way out?” said Jade.

      “Let’s hope there is.”

      “Good plan,” she muttered.

      The barn was full of farm machinery. The tractor scraped past ploughs and seed drills; a combine harvester. There were doors at the back— mercifully standing open like those at the front.

      “Don’t think much of the farmer’s security,” McCain shouted above the sound of the tractor echoing round the barn.

      “He’s in the middle of nowhere,” Rich pointed out.

      Outside the barn, a grassy bank led down steeply into a large field. The edges were lost in darkness. Water was already running off the paved area and down the slope as the rain got even heavier. As soon as they were out of the back of the barn, McCain turned the tractor so it was hidden behind the building. The car’s lights spilled out of the barn as it approached.

      “Out—quick!” McCain ordered. He had to shout over the sound of the engine, the thunder, and the pounding of the rain.

      As soon as they were out of the tractor, McCain spun the wheel, pointing the tractor down the slope into the field. Guessing what he was doing, Rich grabbed a brick from a pile holding the barn doors open.

      “This any good?”

      McCain smiled a thank you, and took the brick. He braced himself against the door of the cab as he wedged the brick down on the accelerator. The tractor started to move off, gathering speed, and McCain jumped clear. He rolled like a paratrooper, coming up quickly and running with Rich and Jade for the next building.

      Seconds later, the car emerged from the barn behind them, speeding after the tractor as it careered down the hill into the field, skidding and slewing in the mud.

      “They’ll soon find it’s empty,” said Jade.

      “But they won’t know where we jumped ship, or even if we all got out at the same time,” McCain pointed out. “With luck they’ll assume we bailed out in the field somewhere and legged it. The rain will make it hard for them to find any tracks or see very far.”

      “But they’ll come looking,” said Rich. “We need a really good hiding place, and we need it fast.”

      The farmhouse would have been the most comfortable, but also the most obvious hiding place. Rich was getting tired and he was willing to risk it —their pursuers would probably assume they had jumped off the tractor in the field and escaped into the darkness. But McCain was more cautious. “Not the house. Unless you want to wake up with someone’s gun to your head.”