Thin Lines (The Child Thief #3)(90)

There weren’t any alleys in this neighborhood, and I knew immediately that if we were going to get away quickly, it was going to mean getting a hell of a lot more creative, and hoping the homeowners stayed out of our way, for at least a little bit.

“Get us directions,” Jackie told Ant. “I can’t get to my phone. You still have the tracking app I gave you?”

“Got it,” Ant replied. “I’ve already pulled it up. I can see exactly where you are.”

“Find a way for us to get out,” Jackie said. “We need to lose the agents and then get out onto the highway and away from here.”

“On it,” he replied.

We were nearing the end of the road, now—of course we’d managed to pull onto a cul-de-sac—and we were going to be well and truly trapped if we didn’t get out of here.

I slowed and swerved a quick U-turn, hoping that we could get out of this street entirely before they managed to find us, then saw the van racing right past the opening of the cul-de-sac.

Jackie, who’d turned next to me, came to a stop right next to where I’d halted. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “Do you think they saw us?”

I shook my head. “No idea, but I don’t want to wait around to find out. Let’s go!”

I hit the gas on my bike, let the back tire jump on the pavement and then engage, and screeched right toward the first likely lawn I’d seen. There was a gate there, and I thought that if we built up enough speed, I might be able to just bust through it. Hopefully no one was standing right there watching the chase through a hole in the fence. I sped across the street and over their lawn, tearing up the grass as I went and not feeling at all bad about it, and then I was at the gate.

I busted right through it, just as I’d hoped I would. Splinters and larger pieces of wood exploded into the air around me, and I heard Jackie gasp in the comm, but I didn’t slow down. We needed to hide first and get the hell out of here second. If we were at all lucky, and the people who lived here were too shocked to immediately communicate with the Authority officers, this unorthodox move would accomplish both of those needs.

The gate opened into a short alleyway at the side of the mansion, where the people who lived here evidently stored their trashcans and various gardening tools, and we spent the next minute trying desperately to avoid the hoes, shovels, bags of dirt, and trashcans that littered our path, while maintaining our speed.

“Why do rich people have all this?” Jackie shouted, frustrated. “I thought people came and did their landscaping for them!”

“I apparently managed to choose the one house with an owner who believes in doing things himself,” I huffed, steering my bike around a particularly inconvenient wheelbarrow. “Figures.”

Then I was past the gardening tools and into the wider garden area, and I saw not only a large lawn, but also a rose garden and a swimming pool.

A pool. For a split second I thought it might be the place for us to hide. If we could get under the water and under one of the floating toys, we might just be able to hide from anyone who came after us.

But no, I realized a second later. We wouldn’t be able to hide the bikes that way, and if we were in the pool, we’d be trapped. The homeowner would have the chance to call the cops, and any Authority agents with guns would be able to pick us off as they liked.

I sped past the pool, revving the engine to pick up speed again, and aimed for the gate on the other side of the monstrous lawn. Plenty of space to pick up speed here, though the lawn was spongy with moisture and making it more difficult, and if we could just get through there and make another turn before the Authority’s van turned around and decided to search the cul-de-sac, we might get away. I wasn’t holding my breath, but things were starting to look a lot more positive than they had when we were out on the street.

“Freeze!” a voice roared behind us, the tone magnified by a loudspeaker. “You’re under arrest for violations of Code 315 of the Burchard Regime, and for suspected murder of government agents!”

I clenched my jaw and revved the engine again, having no intention of freezing. I knew they had guns, and I knew they were aimed right at our backs, so I swerved right and aimed for the fence that was running along my side, rather than the gate ahead of us. I bashed right through it, wood exploding out around me, and Jackie zipped through after me, and we fled through yet another backyard—which looked exactly the same as the one we’d already been in.

But we needed to get out of here. That van might not be able to follow us, but agents on foot surely could, and being in wide-open areas like this was the stupidest thing possible. I also didn’t know how much fence-bashing my motorcycle was going to take. Sure, it seemed to be doing fine, but it was only a matter of time before a piece of wood punctured the engine, or worse, the fuel tank, and that would be the end of me, and probably Jackie as well.

We needed to get out onto the street again, where we could run, and where I could stop using my bike as a battering ram.

“Ant, how do we get back out onto the street?” I asked, breathing heavily in a combination of effort and panic. “I want out of the backyards and onto pavement again.”

“I second that idea,” Jackie muttered from behind me. “I don’t feel like being shot in the back today.”

My mind screeched to a halt and then stuttered forward again at that. Jackie was behind me, and therefore in a lot more danger of getting shot than I was. But she was also wearing a second-skin suit, at least.