It moved stealthily toward Bellos.
Whatever it was, it was large—at least six feet long—but thin, insect-like, with long angular limbs not unlike those of a grasshopper, that clung to the vertical side of one of the bookcases. Although Swain couldn’t see its face very well, he could see that its sinister-looking head was partially covered by a steel, mask-like object. Its movements were accompanied by a strange mechanical breathing noise.
‘What is it?’ he whispered.
‘It is the Konda,’ Selexin said. ‘Very vicious warrior species from the outer regions; remarkably evolved insectoid physique; and, according to those who gamble on the Presidian, highly fancied to take it out. Keep your eyes on its two foreclaws—the tips of each thumbnail secrete a highly poisonous venom. If the Konda punctures your skin and then inserts its thumbnail into the wound, believe me, you will die screaming. Its only weakness: its lungs cannot handle the toxicity of your atmosphere, hence the breathing apparatus.’
The Konda was getting closer to Bellos, an ominous shadow moving steadily along the vertical sides of the bookcases.
Bellos didn’t move. He just stood beside the display case, rooted to the spot.
Swain felt a strange sensation as he looked down on the atrium. A kind of voyeuristic thrill to be watching something that no-one else would ever see. That no-one would ever want to see.
The Konda crept cautiously toward Bellos, picking up speed as it closed in—
Suddenly, Bellos held up his hand.
The grasshopper-like Konda stopped instantly.
Swain frowned.
Why had it—?
And then something else caught his eye.
Something in the foreground, something in between Swain and the Konda.
It was small and black—a shadow superimposed on the darkness—slinking swiftly and silently across the bare wooden tops of the bookshelves, heading towards the Konda from behind.
From behind.
Swain watched in amazement as another identical creature made its way across the tops of the bookshelves from the other direction. Its movements resembled that of a cat. Menacing in its supreme stealth.
Selexin saw them, too.
‘Oh, sweet Lords,’ he breathed, ‘hoodaya.’
Swain turned to face the little man. Selexin was staring off into space, wide-eyed and white with fear.
Swain spun back around.
Two more of the small creatures—each about the size of a dog—were creeping on all fours across the tops of the bookshelves, jumping easily from top to top, across the aisles below. Swain saw their jet-black heads—saw their long needle-like teeth and their bony but muscular limbs—saw their thin snaking tails swishing menacingly behind them.
Selexin was whispering to himself: ‘He can’t do that. He can’t. Good lord, hoodaya.’
The four smaller creatures—hoodaya, Swain guessed—had now formed a wide circle above the aisle containing the insect-like Konda.
The Konda hadn’t moved an inch. It hadn’t noticed them.
Not yet.
Bellos lowered his hand. And then he turned away.
Swain saw the Konda immediately shift its weight.
It hasn’t got a clue, he thought as he gripped the railing. Hasn’t got a prayer . . .
It was then that the four hoodaya leapt down from their perches.
Into the aisle below.
Hideous, high-pitched, alien shrieks filled the atrium. The bookshelves on either side of the aisle shook as the Konda flung itself violently from side to side in the face of the sudden onslaught.
Swain saw Hawkins’ face go blank with horror. Selexin was just stunned. Swain pulled Holly close to him, turned her face away from the scene, ‘Don’t watch, honey.’
The godawful shrieking continued.
And then, without warning, the near bookcase fell over and suddenly Swain saw the whole grisly scene—saw the Konda, screaming madly, completely covered by the four hoodaya, its two venom-tipped forelimbs splayed wide, pinned to the ground by two of the hoods, while the other two attack creatures tore ferociously at its face and stomach. In seconds the Konda’s steel breathing mask was ripped from its head and the hapless creature’s shrieks became desperate, hoarse gasps.
And then, abruptly, the pained gasping stopped and the Konda’s body slumped to the ground, limp.
But the hoodaya didn’t stop. Swain saw their long needle-like teeth open wide and plunge into its hide. Blood spurted out in all directions as one hoodaya ripped a large chunk of flesh from the Konda’s carcass and held it aloft in triumph.
Swain’s head snapped left as he heard another noise.
Footsteps.
Rapid footsteps. Soft, barely audible, getting softer. Running away.
One of the hoods heard it, too—lifted its head from its feeding. It leapt from its mount on the Konda’s body and raced off into the nearest aisle, heading for the stairwell.
Swain didn’t know what was going on until he heard a stumbling noise, like someone being crash-tackled to the floor.
And then he heard another scream—a desperate, pathetic yelp—that stopped no sooner than it had begun.
Swain heard Selexin gulp next to him and he realised.
It had been the guide. The Konda’s guide. Swain saw the look on Selexin’s face. The other guide had never stood a chance.
Swain looked back at the dead Konda and the hoods on top of it.
‘Selexin.’
No reply.
Selexin was simply staring into space, in shock.
‘Selexin,’ he whispered, nudging the little man back to his senses.
‘W. . .what?’
‘Quickly,’ Swain said harshly, trying to get Selexin out of his daze. ‘Tell me about them. These hoodaya, or whatever the hell it is you call them.’
Selexin swallowed. ‘Hoods are hunting animals. Bellos is a hunter. Bellos uses hoods to hunt. Simple.’
‘Hey,’ Swain said. ‘Just tell me, okay.’
‘Why? It won’t matter. Not anymore.’
‘Why not?’
‘Mister Swain, I commend you. Your previous efforts had until now given me some hope of survival. Already you have exceeded any previous human effort in the Presidian. But now,’ Selexin was talking quickly, desperately, ‘now I have the misfortune to tell you that you have just witnessed the signing of your own death warrant.’
‘What?’
‘You cannot win. The Presidian is over. Bellos has defiled the rules. If he is discovered, which he won’t be because he is too clever, he will be disqualified—killed. But if he isn’t, he will win. No-one can escape Bellos if he has hoods. They are the ultimate hunter’s tool. Remorseless and vicious. With them by his side, Bellos is unstoppable.’
Selexin shook his head.
‘Do you remember the Karanadon?’ he said, pointing to the green light on Swain’s wristband.
‘Yes.’ Swain had actually forgotten about it, but he didn’t tell Selexin that.
‘Only one hunter being has ever successfully killed a Karanadon in the wild. And do you know who that was?’
‘Tell me.’
‘Bellos. With his hoods.’
‘Great.’
There was an awkward silence.
Then Swain said, ‘Okay then, how did he get them here? If he was brought here just like I was, wouldn’t you guys have made sure that he didn’t bring anything with him?’
‘That’s exactly right, but there must have been a way . . . something he found that no-one thought of . . . some way to teleport them in—’
‘Hey,’ Hawkins touched Swain’s shoulder. ‘he’s doing something.’
Bellos was bent over the Konda’s body, doing something that Swain couldn’t see. When at last he stood, Bellos had the Konda’s breathing mask in his hands. A trophy.
He fastened the mask to a loop on his belt, and then he barked a sharp order to the three hoods that were still feasting on the Konda’s torso. They immediately jumped of
f the dead contestant’s body and stood behind Bellos, at the same time as the fourth hood returned from the stairwell, large shreds of blood-stained white cloth dangling from its teeth and claws.
Then Bellos walked over to a semi-circular desk in the middle of the atrium. Swain could just make out the words on the sign hanging above it: INFORMATION.
Behind him, he heard Hawkins take a quick breath.
Bellos bent down behind the Information Desk, picked up something in one of his large black hands and carried it back over to the Konda’s body.
As soon as he saw it, Swain knew what it was. It was small, white and limp. Bellos’ own guide.
Bellos said something quickly, and the hoods darted behind the Information Desk. Then he draped his guide’s lifeless body over his shoulder and pointed it toward the dead contestant.
‘Initialise!’ Bellos said, loudly.
Instantly, a small sphere of brilliant white light appeared above the dead guide’s head, illuminating the wide open space of the atrium. Instinctively, Swain bent lower behind the railing, away from the light. The white sphere glowed for about five seconds until it vanished abruptly and the atrium was dark once more.
Selexin turned solemnly to Swain. ‘That, Mister Swain, was Bellos confirming his first kill.’
Swain turned to the group gathered around him. ‘I think it’s time to get out of here.’
‘I think you’re right,’ Hawkins was already moving away from the railing.
Swain grabbed Balthazar and heaved him onto his shoulder. ‘Holly,’ he whispered, ‘quick honey, the elevator.’
‘Okay.’
He turned to Hawkins, ‘we’ll go back to the elevator. Stop it between floors again. that’s been the safest place to hide so far.’
‘Fine by me,’ Hawkins said.
Swain began dragging Balthazar away from the railing, with Holly by his side and Hawkins, Selexin and Balthazar’s guide in front. They all headed for the open, darkened elevator.
And then it happened.
The elevator’s doors began to close.
Swain shot a look at Hawkins, who immediately dashed forward, trying to get to the doors in time. But the doors joined just as he got there.
‘Damn it!’ he cursed.
Swain came up beside him, looked up at the numbered display above the elevator doors. The illuminated number was moving down the line from 1 to G and then to SL-1.
‘The elevator . . .’ he whispered.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Hawkins said, realising, ‘they figured out how to use the goddamn elevator.’
‘They’re intelligent—’ Selexin said.
‘They’re animals, for God’s sake,’ Hawkins said, perhaps a little too loudly.
‘Alien, yes. Animal, no,’ Selexin whispered. ‘I would say understanding a contraption like your elevator would be regarded as remarkably intelligent.’
Hawkins was about to say something in retort when Swain cut in, ‘All right. It doesn’t matter. we’ll find somewhere else to . . .’
‘Hey Daddy, don’t be silly,’ Holly said, standing next to the elevator call button. ‘I can get the elevator back for you.’
Swain’s eyes went wide with horror.
‘Holly, no!’ He lunged to stop her, but it was too late.
Holly pressed the UP button.
Swain closed his eyes and bowed his head. The round UP button glowed brightly in the darkness of the First Floor.
He couldn’t believe it. Now, whoever was using the lift wouldn’t even have to guess which floor they were on. Nor would they even have to figure out how to use the elevator. Because now that Holly had pressed the call button, once the elevator picked up its new passenger, it would automatically stop here, on the First Floor.
Holly said, ‘What did I do? didn’t I do the right thing, Daddy?’
Swain sighed, ‘Yes. Thank you, honey. You did the right thing.’ He handed Balthazar over to Hawkins, and walked quietly back to the balcony overlooking the atrium.
Bellos was still standing behind the Information Desk, putting down his guide, oblivious to their presence.
At least that’s good, Swain turned back toward the elevator, head down in thought. They still had to go. Something would be coming up in that elevator very soon and he didn’t want to be here when it did.
Finally he looked up toward the elevator.
Holly was staring straight at him.
Selexin and the other guide both stood there with their mouths wide open.
Hawkins was just standing there, too, propping up Balthazar, staring fixedly at Swain.
But it was Balthazar who seized Swain’s attention.
The tall bearded man had his left arm draped over Hawkins’ shoulder for support. His right was held high, a glistening, evil-looking silver blade in his hand.
Poised.
Ready.
Swain didn’t know what to do. What had happened? Balthazar was ready to throw a knife at him and the others weren’t doing anything . . .
Balthazar threw the knife.
Swain waited for the impact. Waited to grab his chest and feel the burning pain as the blade lodged deep into his heart . . .
The knife whistled through the air at astonishing speed.
Right past him.
Swain heard a thud as the nasty-looking knife lodged into the railing behind him. The steel railing.
Then Swain heard the scream.
A piercing, wailing scream of pure agony.
Swain spun to see that Balthazar’s knife had pinned the hood’s left foreclaw to the steel railing. The force of the throw was so strong that it had lodged the knife several inches into the steel. It had caught the hood as it had been attempting to climb over the railing from the Ground Floor below—right behind Swain.
The hood screamed, and for an instant Swain saw its features up close. Four muscular black limbs, all with long dagger-like claws; a long slashing tail; and strangest of all, the head. It seemed as if the head of this dog-sized animal was nothing more than two gigantic jaws. There were eyes on it somewhere, but all Swain could see were its needle-like teeth, bared wide with the help of its massive lower jaw.
And beyond the hood, Swain caught a glimpse—a split-second glimpse—of Bellos, standing by the Information Desk.
Gazing up at him.
Smiling.
He had known all along . . .
Swain turned away, stumbling away from the railing as the hood wrenched at its pinned foreclaw. It seemed to Swain that the knife fixing the claw to the railing was the only thing holding the hood up.
At that moment there was another whistling through the air and suddenly a second knife thudded into the forearm of the hood, slicing right through the narrow bone just above its pinned foreclaw, cutting the claw clean off!
With a shriek, the hood dropped instantly out of sight, falling to the atrium way below—leaving in its place a bony five-fingered claw, impaled on the railing by the first throwing knife.
Hawkins yelled to Swain, ‘Here! Over here!’
Swain saw the ramshackle group hurrying toward the photocopying room to his right. He ran after them and when he reached the door to the photocopying room, he looked back over his shoulder to see the first of the remaining hoods slink slowly and menacingly over the railing.
Swain shut the door behind him and looked around the photocopying room.
Hawkins was leading the way with Balthazar over his shoulder, throwing open the other door at the far end of the room, the one that read: INTERNET FACILITY. Apart from that door, a solid concrete wall separated the two rooms. Swain followed as Holly and the others hurried through the doorway behind Hawkins.
Swain paused at the threshold. He was standing on a dusty handwritten sign that must have fallen from the door some time ago. It read:
STATE LIBRARY OF NEW YORK
INTERNET/ON-LINE SERVICES FACILITY
CLOSED FOR REPAIRS.
WE REGRET ANY INCONVENIENCE.
‘I do
n’t know if this is such a good idea,’ he stepped inside, shutting and locking the door after him.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang from somewhere behind him and Swain spun around. He peered out through a small rectangular window set into the door—and saw that the hoods were pounding on the outer door of the photocopying room.
He turned to face the Internet room.
‘Sorry,’ Hawkins said, lowering the weary-looking Balthazar to the floor.
The Internet facility of the State Library of New York—a relatively new addition to a relatively old building—was little more than a wide empty room, with open-ended wires hanging down from an unpainted ceiling and bared electrical outlets on the walls. No computers. No modems. Even the light switch next to the doorway was merely a stumpy metal housing with lots of frayed wires. A corner room, there were windows along two of its sides, but no other doors.
There was only the one entrance.
It was a dead end.
Wonderful, Swain thought.
The banging outside continued. He looked back out through the small rectangular window in the door. The photocopying room’s outer door was still, except that every few seconds it would vibrate suddenly as the hoods rammed it from the other side.
Hawkins and Holly were standing at the windows, gazing out helplessly over the park outside.
Swain pulled Holly back protectively. ‘Don’t get too close,’ he said, pointing at the window frame, at the tiny blue talons of electricity that lashed out around its edges.
‘Uh, excuse me, but I think we have more pressing problems than the windows,’ Selexin said impatiently.
The pounding of the hoods on the outer door continued.
‘Right.’ Swain’s eyes swept the room, looking for something he could use. Anything he could use. But there was nothing here. Absolutely nothing. The room was completely bare.
And then, with a sudden, loud crash, the outer door to the photocopying room burst inwards.
‘They’re inside,’ Hawkins said, racing to the door, peering out through its small window.
‘Christ,’ Swain said.
In an instant, the first hood hit the door. Hawkins stepped back as the whole door shook.
‘Get back!’ Swain said. ‘They’ll go for the window!’
The second hood went for the window set into the door.
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