The Shimmer by David Morrell Page A

rifle's muzzle flash casting him in a grotesque silhouette. "Going back to hell!"
    Where's Costigan? Page wondered frantically.
    He inhaled sharply when he saw the police chief 's body sprawled on the ground halfway between the observation platform and the crowd. Costigan's pistol lay near his outstretched right hand.
    The gunman fired at a twitching body, the muzzle flash revealing a spray of blood. He dropped an empty magazine and inserted a fresh one so quickly that Page didn't have the chance even to think about charging across the parking lot and tackling him.
    The man aimed down, about to shoot at another squirming body, but suddenly stopped and lowered the rifle. He turned as if something had caught his attention. Page followed the direction of his gaze.
    What the shooter looked at was conspicuous, even in the dark. It was white, so big that it couldn't be ignored. Inside it, people whimpered and wailed.
    The tour bus.
    My God, Page realized, before he started shooting, some of the passengers went back to their seats.
    The gunman walked toward it. With his back to Page, he faced the dark windows of the bus. He stood straighter, as if energized, and took long steps over bodies, approaching his new target. As he rounded the front, disappearing toward the door, Page was tempted to hurry from the side of the observation platform, wanting desperately to reach Costigan's pistol. But the sound of his footsteps on the gravel would almost certainly attract attention. There was little chance that he could reach the pistol before the gunman heard him coming and reappeared, shooting.
    A fist banged against the opposite side of the bus.
    "Open the door!" the gunman demanded.
    Page backed along the sidewall of the observation platform and headed toward the dark road.
    "Open the damned door!"
    Page got to the road and hurried along it, his sneakers hushed on the pavement.
    Shots clanged through metal. The gunman was firing into the side of the bus. The AK-47's bullets were capable of penetrating the metal, passing straight through, and going out the other side. A human body would barely slow them.
    After the next shot into the side of the bus, someone screamed.
    Page reduced speed as he came along the road and neared the back of the bus.
    The next shot was followed by a cry of pain. Bullets shattered windows. The sound of terrified wailing intensified.
    Page was troubled by another sound he began to hear: that of liquid spilling onto the gravel.
    "Came from hell!" the man screamed.
    The smell of gasoline drifted into Page's nostrils.
    "Going back there!"
    Page's training had taught him that only in the movies did a shot to a vehicle's fuel tank cause a fire, let alone an explosion. This guy could shoot at the bus's fuel tank all night, but unless he had incendiary ammunition, the only effect would be a lot of holes.
    And more leaking fuel. The gasoline fumes smelled stronger.
    He moved warily, hoping the darkness behind him would conceal his outline. Peering around the back of the bus, he saw the gunman, who was so intent on shooting at the gas tank that he didn't notice anything else. He stepped back from a pool of gasoline that was spreading on the gravel.
    Oh, God--surely he isn't . . .
    The man set down his rifle and pulled a book of matches from a shirt pocket.
    Page charged.
    The man tore a match from the book and struck it along the abrasive strip. The match flared.
    Then he heard Page coming and turned. The light from the match cast shadows up his face, exaggerating its harsh angles. His eyes reflected the flame, emphasizing their intensity.
    He lit the entire book.
    Page ran faster, yelling obscenities as fiercely as he could, trying to startle the man, to distract him from what he intended to do.
    The shooter dropped the burning matches an instant before Page crashed into him. As they hit the gravel, Page could only pray that they would go out, but instantly he heard a whoosh behind him.
    Flames dispelled the darkness. Heat