The driver of the hijacked police car gave Robin a thumbs up as she pulled onto Locksley High Street. Marion took a different path, aiming for the giant weeds up back, then cutting onto the overgrown plot behind.
Robin ducked as a bullet went off, but had no idea who was shooting or if he was the target. As they pulled onto one of the town centre’s many barren side streets, the searchlight beam lit them up and the police SUV set off down the alleyway between Hipsta Donut and Captain Cash.
They had a three-hundred-metre start, but dirt bikes are designed for rough ground rather than speed, and they’re slower still with two riders and luggage.
‘Can’t hold that monster off,’ Marion said, looking for a narrow alleyway or some rough terrain as the SUV’s chrome bull bars got bigger in her mirrors.
Robin glanced behind as the cop car closed to ten metres. He had the last of his three arrows in hand, but his family wasn’t rich enough for ATVs, quad bikes or horses, so he had zero experience of shooting on the move.
He twisted around, clamped his legs as hard as he could to the bike and felt properly scared when he let go of Marion’s waist. He figured two things. First, the police driver could easily make an evasive swerve if he took too long to aim. Second, the only way to disable a car with a single arrow was to shoot out a tyre.
‘Veer into the opposite lane,’ Robin shouted. ‘I need an angle to shoot the front wheel.’
‘There’s got to be an alleyway around here,’ Marion yelled back. ‘Or a canal bank. Even a damned swing park …’
There was probably some regulation saying police officers weren’t allowed to smash two twelve-year-olds with no helmets off a bike doing fifty miles an hour. But the driver didn’t seem to care, flooring the accelerator as they hit a straight section of road in front of an abandoned cement works.
The front of the cop car was less than five metres behind when Marion swerved. Robin wasn’t sure if she’d done it to help him shoot, or because the car was about to destroy them. Either way, he raised the bow and took aim.
The bike hit a pothole, delaying the shot. From less than five metres, the arrow went exactly where Robin wanted it. But it only nicked the SUV’s spinning tyre before flipping up and getting sucked into the wheel arch.
‘I don’t think it punctured,’ Robin yelled.
Marion knew they’d never win a straight race and took a sharp right turn. The heavy cop car had to slam the brakes to follow. But as the driver turned the wheel at speed, the sideways load turned the small hole Robin’s arrow had made in the sidewall into a tear that split the entire tyre from its metal rim.
With the tyre flapping, all deceleration got thrown to the passenger side. The nose of the SUV dipped, tearing off its front fender and showering sparks. In panic the driver braked harder, but this locked the rear wheels and made the turn into a pirouette.
The SUV flipped when the nose hit a kerb. The flashing top lights got ripped away and the roof scraped along the sidewalk until a trash can smashed through the windscreen. It finally stopped after buckling a streetlamp and bouncing on the cement works’ chain-link fence.
‘We got lucky,’ Marion said, as she felt Robin’s hand slide back around her waist.
‘Luck?’ Robin laughed. ‘That’s exactly what I was going for.’