The Shimmer by David Morrell Read Free Book Online Page B

control his respiratory rate and subdue his pulse.
    A target sped out of a doorway ahead.
    Raleigh aimed and held his fire. The target was an old man holding up his hands in surrender.
    Raleigh peered into the room, saw that it was empty, and continued down the hallway, but at once, a noise behind him made him pivot. Another target sped from the room. Somehow it had been concealed from him. It was a man with a rifle, but before it stopped, Raleigh pulled the trigger, sending three rounds into the opponent's head. He blew another three rounds into the old man's head on the assumption that he was in league with the assailant and that in an actual firefight, the old bastard would probably pick up the dead man's gun the moment Raleigh's back was turned.
    Raleigh quickly scanned the rest of the corridor. Ready to shoot, he moved forward through growing shadows. The trick was to keep his weight balanced, never placing one foot too far ahead of the other.
    Sliding his feet, he progressed in an efficient shuffle, always capable of adjusting to the M4's recoil.
    Another target popped from a doorway. Raleigh almost fired before he saw that it was a woman holding a child. But then he realized that the child was actually a doll and that the grip of a pistol projected from behind it. He pulled the trigger and sent three bullets into the woman's brain.
    The smell of gun smoke was thick in the corridor now. Although Raleigh wore protective earplugs, his awareness was at such a level that he swore he could hear the clinking sound of his empty shells hitting the concrete floor.
    How much time had gone by? How long had he been there?
    Don't think about it! Just get the job done!
    The corridor went to the right. Raleigh entered an area that had a receptionist's desk and wooden chairs in front of it. Without warning, a target surged up from behind the desk. A man with a handgun!
    As Raleigh fired, a figure rushed from an office doorway--a woman in a white medical coat. She held up her hands as yet another target sped into view, this one from another doorway, a man about to throw a grenade.
    Raleigh shot him, then shot a target that hurried from a farther doorway, a woman with a rifle, then shot two gunmen who rushed from the corridor on the opposite side of the reception area.
    He pivoted, scanning everything that lay before him, on guard against more attacks.
    His mouth was dry. His hands sweated on the M4.
    The rush of his heart was so powerful that he felt pressure in the veins of his neck. Breathing deeply but not quickly, he assessed the scene before him. Were all the threats eliminated?
    No.
    The woman in the white medical coat continued to stand before him. Weaponless, her hands were raised.
    Is the sergeant setting me up? Raleigh wondered. Is that a weapon in the pocket of her medical coat?
    He twisted the M4's selector to full auto and emptied the remainder of the magazine into her, the powerful burst blowing the plywood figure apart.
    Through his earplugs, he heard a sharp electronic whistle, the signal that the exercise had ended. He pulled out the earplugs and turned toward Sergeant Lockhart, who approached along the corridor.
    "I finished before the ninety-second time limit," Raleigh said.
    "Beat my own record, didn't I?"
    "Yes, sir," Lockhart said, but there was doubt in his voice. He glanced behind him, and Raleigh knew he was thinking of the bullet holes in the target that portrayed the old man. Then Lockhart peered ahead toward the disintegrated target of the woman in the white medical coat.
    "Collaborators," Raleigh explained. "They'd have moved against me the first chance they had."
    "Of course, sir." Lockhart still sounded doubtful.
    "Sergeant, don't you like this assignment?"
    "Sir, I'm very happy with it."
    "I could arrange to have you sent someplace that offers you more of a challenge. Perhaps a war zone."
    "I'd prefer you didn't, sir."
    "Combat builds character, you know."
    "Sir, I've been in combat. With all due respect,