There was a soft echo of a door being snapped back into place and McCracken knew the Minotaur had risen from the subterranean corridors beneath the structure. He strained his ears to hear the monster’s footsteps approaching, then recalled the giant’s feet had been clothed in light sandals that would not produce a sound. He could stay in the same place and wait for the Minotaur to make his move, but inaction was not part of McCracken’s nature. The thing to do was hunt the monster, who would expect that least of all. Fass would get a better show on his video than he could have possibly imagined.
The cameras! If he could find and disable them, he could blind Fass to whatever escape he chose after slaying the Minotaur ….
Wait, Blaine urged himself. He was getting ahead of himself, way ahead. First he had to deal with the creature, which promised to be a near impossible task in itself.
Not creature, he reminded himself. He’s just a man and that’s how I’ve got to think of him ….
McCracken swung right and found a wall before him. A quick turn to the left brought him to another. He had trapped himself and would have to double back. Damn! How could he hunt the monster hunting him if he couldn’t even find his way? He supposed the giant had memorized these corridors, but perhaps there were coded signs on the wall or floor.
Blaine felt the pounding of his heart intensify and fought to steady his breathing. He tried to listen for the sounds of the giant approaching, but his own thoughts got in the way.
Relax! he urged himself. Release! ….
Advice and training from Johnny Wareagle. Release everything, the big Indian had counseled him, and surrender to the forces. Feel what lies around you. Don’t wait to see or hear it. Release!
McCracken stopped. He had come to a point in the Labyrinth where he could go left or right. He calmed himself and let his feelings take over. Going left would take him back in his own path. Going right was the answer.
He stayed on the move, thinking now that the best strategy would be to lure the Minotaur into a closed-off corridor and then attack. He came to the end of a small corridor and turned to reverse his footing.
The noise was slight, flesh grazing wood, but he had heard it. Blaine released. The Minotaur was three turns away, coming directly for him, aware of his presence.
A weapon, I need a weapon ….
McCracken pulled up his shirt quickly. Fass’s guards had searched him but neglected to strip off his belt with its heavy brass buckle. He had forgotten about it, just as they had. Wielded properly, it could make a potent weapon indeed.
Blaine yanked it through the loops and wrapped it twice around his arm, leaving a foot-and-a-half or so extended with the heavy buckle dangling free. He could feel the Minotaur closing now, and he imagined the sharp glove spikes and head horns. Others in this position would have waited to jump out when the giant was close. Waiting was what had gotten them killed.
McCracken headed toward the Minotaur’s position, felt him just around the next turn and lunged forward at the instant he expected him to appear.
The timing of the move was perfect. The Minotaur glided round the abutment just as Blaine swung his belt into violent motion. It lashed upward against the side of the giant’s mask. He grunted, and Blaine wasted no time in whipping the belt again. The Minotaur ducked late and the belt buckle snapped into his eye. This time the giant howled in pain and staggered, blinded and instinctively bringing the back of his spiked glove up to his brow.
McCracken continued his assault, blasting the much bigger man several times in the kidneys. Then he leaped behind the Minotaur and looped the belt around his throat. He pulled both ends tight, taking up the slack and tightening the noose. Blaine heard the rush of air trapped in the monster’s throat and felt certain he had won.
But Fass’s Minotaur had managed to sneak one of his spiked gloves upward and wedge it between his flesh and the belt. One of the spikes was close to ripping through it. McCracken managed to close off most of his air but the Minotaur was conscious and still struggling.
Blaine yanked backwards on the makeshift noose, and the giant’s huge throat emitted a watery sound. Blaine drew closer, trying to increase pressure for the kill.
A mistake.
The Minotaur sensed his position and sent his free glove, the one that wasn’t fighting desperately to tear through the belt, hurtling backwards. The tips of the spikes ripped through the flesh of McCracken’s midsection. The pain was enormous, blood spreading through the ragged rips in his white shirt and jacket. Now it was McCracken who screamed, easing up enough for the Minotaur to tear free from the noose.
He swung the spiked glove at Blaine and McCracken managed to duck at the last possible instant, feeling the steel whistle over his head. The main problem now was to neutralize the monster’s deadly hands. McCracken wrapped his arms around the Minotaur’s waist, locking the bulging arms at his sides, and drove the massive frame backwards against one of the walls. The whole structure seemed to tremble and Blaine felt the monster struggling futilely to pull his spiked gloves free of the lock, while Blaine angled himself to ram his knee into the giant’s groin.
The huge testicles, a bull’s indeed, made a welcome target and Blaine pounded them twice. The Minotaur, gasping in pain after McCracken’s second strike rammed home, lowered his head, tensed his neck, and thrust the sharp horns directly at McCracken.
Blaine felt them pierce his back and screamed in agony. The giant tore them out, taking a measure of flesh with them. Then with one swift motion, he tossed McCracken to the floor.
Even in the darkness, Blaine could see the spiked gloves converging toward his head. He shrank back and the steel clanged together. McCracken backpedaled as the beast stalked him for the kill.
The belt! The damn belt! Where was it? Blaine needed a weapon, and he needed it now.
The monster had slowed his pace to regroup and ease the pain in his groin. He moved with his legs closer together, involuntarily protecting his ruined testicles. McCracken retreated until he reached a dead-end wall. He could almost feel Megilido Fass ogling in expectation of the kill. Well, it wasn’t going to come as fast as he thought….
McCracken tore off both his loafers and pushed his hands into them. In the next motion he moved away from the wall, in order to meet the Minotaur where he would have the advantage of his greater mobility. His strategy was simple. He could not possibly hope to fend off the spiked gloves with merely his hands. He needed more, something to parry with to buy himself time.
The Minotaur hesitated, unsure, then came at Blaine fast and hard. His right glove lashed out for Blaine’s throat. McCracken deflected it with the shoe and launched a kick into the giant’s knee. The Minotaur grimaced and limped sideways, swishing the other glove through the air. This time McCracken stepped to the inside and extended his shoed hand to block the spikes. With the second shoe he rammed the Minotaur’s solar plexus. Again the giant gasped and staggered backwards. For the moment the advantage was Blaine’s.
What do you think of that, Fass?
The taunt was only in his mind, but it was enough to disturb his concentration. The Minotaur swung out wildly with a spiked glove and Blaine tried to reroute the force and lodge the spikes in the giant’s midsection. But in doing so he totally neglected the second glove which pounded his left side with fiery pain as the spikes tore in and then out. McCracken closed in reflexively to prevent the giant from fashioning a killing blow, but the Minotaur was equal to the task. He heaved McCracken upward by the throat with his two huge arms, then slammed him into the wall. McCracken could see him angling the spikes for a simultaneous sweep across his throat. But before they found flesh, Blaine was able to smash the giant’s ears with his forearms. His balance shaken, the Minotaur dropped Blaine to the floor.