Sitting target

‘He definitely came in here?’  Halligan peered into the old factory.

‘Unless I was chasing a shadow,’ Jones said, breathing deeply. 

‘There’s probably a dozen ways in and out of this place.  Come-on.’

‘We’re not going to wait for back-up?’

‘He’ll be long gone by then.’

‘But what if he’s armed?’

‘That didn’t seem to bother you when you were sprinting after him.’ Halligan entered the gloom.

‘I wasn’t a sitting target then,’ Jones said, following.

Halligan gestured right and they divided.

Ten seconds later there were two shots and a lithe figure dashed for the door.

‘Jones!  Jones!  Shit!’



A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.