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But more than the faithful are drawn there. A gunman begins shooting at the lights, screaming “Go back to hell where you came from!” then turns his rifle on the innocent bystanders. As more and more people are drawn to the scene of the massacre, the stage is set for even greater bloodshed.
To save his wife, Page must solve the mystery of the Rostov Lights. In the process, he uncovers a deadly government secret dating back to First World War. The lights are more dangerous than anyone ever imagined, but even more deadly are those who try to exploit forces beyond their control.
David Morrell takes readers on a brilliant, terrifying journey. The Shimmer is suspenseful, yet thought-provoking; Morrell, the master, at his very best.
the generator fails, that’s no big deal, either. I’ll just put my head on the desk and do what’s normal at night: sleep. The time’ll speed by. Those poor bastards out there ... The lights went out. Raleigh found himself immersed in the deepest darkness he’d ever experienced. I’m safe. That’s what matters. In the morning, I’ll have all the light I want. Sleep. When Raleigh put his head on the desk and closed his eyes, he saw imaginary speckles that seemed to be on the backs of his eyelids—a
want,” Page said. “I will.” “I didn’t come here to stop you,” he tried to assure her. “I know. Besides, you can’t.” Page looked over at Costigan, who continued to lean protectively against the nearby post. He spread his hands as if to say, Are you starting to get the idea? But Page didn’t get anything, not anything at all. He was mystified. And afraid. He worried that Tori was having some kind of breakdown. If so, he realized, looking around silently, apparently a lot of other people were
scraping the dirt. Their lowing sounds had a nervous edge. Praying that they wouldn’t stampede, Nolan thought of the land that his grandfather and father had fought so hard to keep, and of the land he was determined to add to it. He thought of the quarter-million head of cattle he’d promised if the railroad built the town and the cattle pens. He lay on the hard ground with his rifle propped on his saddle. He stared along it toward the lights and silently recited scripture. From the gospel of St.
earlobe. “Blood’s streaming down your neck and onto your shoulder,” she murmured. “Good. If I help you position the camera, do you think you can get a shot of it?” “You really are crazy.” “You expect me to just wait here and do nothing while he tries to kill us? The camera’s the only weapon I have. I’m going to record as much of what’s happening as I can. If we get out of this, this’ll be the story of a lifetime.” The word “lifetime” made him pause. Desperate to distract himself, he added, “I
above the surface of the surrounding land. Whenever the eruption had occurred, the force of it had scattered chunks everywhere. Page had seen other areas like it while flying over Arizona. They were generally called “badlands,” a fitting name for something so bleak and forbidding. He couldn’t help concluding that the place looked the way he felt. Increasingly eager to find Tori, he flew from the ruined, uncharted airfield toward the airport that was marked on the map. Again the precision of