They were shoulderto-shoulder, their pistols raised. Their technique was sloppy. They were looking straight ahead, tunnel visioned. They forgot to look up. I moved silently along the metal rafters. The warehouse was old, and the beams were thick with dust, but sturdy. I was directly above them. Ian was shaking. I don’t like this, Grant.
Did you see Kyle’s hand? It looked like hamburger meat. Shut up, Grant hissed. Just find the breaker and turn the lights back on. They reached the door. Grant reached for the handle. I dropped a heavy coil of rope I had found on the catwalk. It hit the ground 10 ft behind them with a loud thump.
Both of them spun around, firing blindly into the dark. Bang! Bang! Bang! Muzzle flashes lit up the warehouse like lightning strikes. They were shooting at nothing. “Hold your fire!” Victor screamed from the center of the room. “You’ll hit the crates.” I used the noise of their gunfire to drop down behind a forklift. I was now on the ground level behind their line of sight.
