Contest

Its 'neck' was like a string of white pearls flowing down from the flat, two-dimensional triangular head. Presumably it flowed into a body that was still out of his sight.

Hawkins continued to stare at the creature -- just as it seemed to stare curiously back at him.

And then Balthazar spoke. A deep, husky voice.

'Codex.'

'What?' Hawkins said. 'What did you say?'

Balthazar pointed at the alien. 'Codex.'

The Codex moved forward -- effortlessly, smoothly -- floating through the air.

It crossed the threshold of the room and Hawkins saw that it had no body at all. The string of pearls that formed its neck was, in fact, about five feet long. And it dangled down from the head, curling upward at the tip, never touching the ground.

And at the tip of the tail, burning brightly, was a green light that glowed from a tight grey metal band. The Codex was another contestant.

The tail slithered back and forth like a snake's, hovering upright, one foot above the ground.

'Oh man,' Hawkins grabbed the matchbox and pulled out a phosphorus-tipped match. He struck it on the floor.

The flare of white light made the Codex hesitate. It stopped above the pool of methylated spirits.

Hawkins held the match aloft, the flame slowly burning its way down the white wood of the matchstick, blackening it.

He swallowed.

'Aw, what the hell,' he said. And he dropped the match into the pool.

Levine was standing out in front of the library when his radio sputtered to life.

'Sir! Sir! We have a light! I repeat: we have a light! Looks like a fire. Third floor. North-east corner.'

'I'm on my way,' Levine said. He switched channels on his radio. 'Sir?'

'What is it, Levine?' James Marshall sounded irritated by the interruption.

'Sir,' Levine said, 'we have confirmation of activity inside the library. I repeat, confirmation of activity inside the library.'

'Where?'

'North-east corner. Third Floor.'

Marshall said, 'Get over there. We're on our way.'

The walls of the janitor's room flared bright yellow as a curtain of fire burst upward from the pool of methylated spirits, engulfing the Codex.

Hawkins and Balthazar stepped back from the flames, shielding their eyes. The Codex could not be seen through the blazing wall of fire.

And then it emerged.

Floating forward. Through the flames. Oblivious to the heat.

It moved inside the janitor's room, clear of the fire.

'Oh, man,' Hawkins said, edging backwards.

Balthazar spoke -- again, just one word in a flat monotone.

'Go.'

Hawkins said, 'What?'

Balthazar was staring intently at the Codex. 'Go,' he repeated solemnly.

Hawkins didn't know what to do. The Codex was hovering right in front of them. And even if he got past it, he still had to get through the fire -- the fire that he had set up to keep intruders out. It had never occurred to him that that same fire might serve to keep him in.

There was no way out. There was nowhere to go.

Balthazar turned to Hawkins and looked him squarely in the eye. 'Go... now!'

And with that Balthazar launched himself at the Codex.

Hawkins watched in astonishment as the Codex leapt forward at the same moment and coiled its thin body three times around Balthazar's throat.

With both hands, the big man pulled desperately at the Codex's stranglehold around his neck. He stumbled backwards into the remains of the cyclone fence that divided the room, tripped, and fell to the floor beneath the shelves packed with detergents and cleaning agents.

Hawkins was still just standing there, stunned, watching the battle in awe, when Balthazar cried, 'Go!'

Hawkins blinked and turned immediately. He saw the fire, spreading across the room, creeping across the floor toward him. He saw the dusty methylated spirits bottle he had used, lying on the floor, inches away from the approaching flames.

Too late.

The flames devoured the bottle as Hawkins dived over the nearest pile of wooden boxes.

Under the intense heat, the glass bottle -- still half full -- exploded like a Molotov cocktail, shooting out missiles of glass and fire in every direction.

Beyond the cyclone fence, Balthazar was back on his feet again, struggling with the Codex.

He fell back heavily against the wooden shelves and they collapsed under him. Glass spirit bottles, plastic detergent bottles and a dozen aerosol spray cans crashed to the floor.

Hawkins saw the shelves collapse, saw all the bottles hit the floor -- cleaning agents and detergents that carried conspicuous red warning signs: DO NOT mix with DETERGENTS OR OTHER CHEMICALS, and highly flammable aerosols with their own glaring warning labels.

The fire moved inexorably forward, across the room.

'Oh my God,' Hawkins' eyes darted from the fire on the floor to the chemicals lying in its path.

Behind the cyclone fence, the Codex's body was still coiled tightly around Balthazar's throat. Balthazar's face was twisted in a tight grimace, his cheeks beetroot red.

Hawkins spun to warn him about the fire and in that instant their eyes met, and Balthazar, staring intently at Hawkins, tightened his grip on the Codex's snake-like body.

Hawkins saw it in the big man's eyes. Balthazar knew what was going to happen. The fire. The chemicals. He was going to stay in the room. And keep the Codex with him.

'No!' Hawkins cried, realising. 'You can't!'

'Go,' Balthazar gasped.

'But you'll--' Hawkins saw the flames creeping steadily across the floor. He had to make a decision fast.

'Go!' Balthazar yelled.

Hawkins gave up. There was no more time. Balthazar was right. He had to go.

He turned back to face the fast-approaching wall of fire, and, with a final glance back at Balthazar -- locked in battle with the Codex -- Hawkins said softly, 'Thank you.'

Then he covered his face with his forearm and plunged into the fire.

Levine arrived at the north-east corner of the library building just as Quaid and Marshall came running up. The agent in charge of the perimeter, Higgs, was there waiting.

'Up there,' Higgs said, pointing at two long rectangular windows up on the third floor, just below the overhang of the library's roof.

The two windows glowed bright yellow, with the occasional flash of orange flames.

'Jesus Christ,' Marshall shook his head. 'The goddamn building is on fire. That's just what I need.'

'What do we do?' Levine said.

'We get inside,' Harry Quaid said flatly, gazing up at the glowing windows. 'Before there's nothing left.'

'Right,' Marshall scowled, thinking. 'Damn it. Damn it!' Then he said, 'Levine.'

'Yes, sir.'