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Tremendous pressure, crushing, relentless. Daniel felt his knees bend, buckle. He sank, skewered.
Baldwin's grin was wider than ever. Triumphant. He pressed down, painting, sweating, the oil mixing with the sweat, ru
Daniel looked up at him, saw the swastika brands.
The crowbar-too far away.
Baldwin laughing, shouting, churning the knife.
Daniel pushed up with all his strength; the knife blade continued devouring his hand, extended its scarlet dominion.
He bit back screams, locked onto Baldwin's eyes, held the monster fast, refused to succumb.
"You first her for dessert."
Daniel felt the blood leave him, the strength leeching out of his muscles, and knew he couldn't hold out much longer.
He pushed up again, harder, made his arm a rigid, jointless length of steel. Held his own, then let go suddenly, ceasing all resistance, falling backward in a paratrooper's roll, the impaled hand slamming to the ground, the knife pursuing it, but purposelessly, fueled by gravity, not intent.
The tension-release caught Baldwin off guard. He stum bled, held on to the knife, and went down after it, bending awkwardly at the waist to maintain his grip on the weapon.
Daniel kicked up at his knee, again.
This time hearing something snap.
Baldwin howled as if betrayed, clutched his leg, collapsed. Falling full force on top of Daniel, one hand bent under him. the other still clutching the knife.
Baldwin closed his eyes, pulled up on the blade, trying to free the Liston, go for a kill-zone.
But the knife was lodged between bones, refused to spread them. All he could do was saw it back and forth, open more blood vessels. Knowing time was on his side. The nigger-kike's pain had to be terrible-he was puny, inferior, bred for defeat.
But the little fuck was holding on, fighting back!
Hard blows stung his Aryan nose, cheeks, chin, mouth. His lower lip burst open. He tasted his own blood, swallowed it-hero-sweet but it made him gag.
The blows kept coming like razor-rain and his own pain got worse, as if the nigger-kike was taking everything he'd absorbed and spitting it back at him.
He forced a D.T. grin, looked down, searching for signs of fadeout.
Kikefuck was smiling back at him!
The scum-this fucking untermensch scum-didn't care about pain, didn't care about the Liston dancing on him, eating him alive.
He marshaled all his strength, pulled up on the knife. Scumshit used his hand as a weapon, pushed back, stuck to it.
Suddenly brown fingers were imbedded in his cheek and raking downward. Shreds of flesh peeling down like tree bark.
Oh, no!
Blood-his blood-splashing in his face, his eyes, everything red.
He sobbed with frustration, said farewell to the Liston and let go of it. Used one hand to block the endless blows, tried to clamp the other around the niggerfuck's throat.
Daniel felt big wet fingers scrambling over his larynx.
He rolled free. Punched Baldwin's nose, mouth, chin. Aiming for the cheek-gouges. Erase that grin, forever.
Keep smiling. It scared the coward.
Baldwin regained the stranglehold.
Getting a grip on the larynx. Squeezing, crushing. Trying to rip it out of Daniel's throat.
Daniel felt the breath leave his chest in a sad hiss. The perimeters of his visual field turned gray, then black. The blackness spread inward, blotting out the light. His head filled with hollow noises. Death rattles. His lungs filled quickly with wet sand.
He kept striking out, tearing at the monster's face. The big fingers kept choking him.
The knife still piercing in his hand, lodged tight, hurting so intensely.
Two loci of pain.
Baldwin cursed, spat, throttled him. The blackness was almost complete. Acid flames raged in his chest, licked upward, scorching his plate, advancing toward his brain.
So hot, yet cold.
Fading
The monster, stronger than he. Intent on destruction.
Her for dessert.
No!
He reached inward, beyond himself, beyond sensation, mined a last filament of strength, embraced the pain, went past it. Arching his body, blind, breathless, he bucked, groped, found one of Baldwin's fingers. Took hold of it, bent it backward, breaking it in a single, swift movement.
A popping sound, then a distant cry. The grip around his neck loosened. A drink of air.
Two more fingers grasped together. Bent, broken. Another.
Baldwin's hand flapped loose. He screamed, flailed aimlessly.
Daniel pushed him hard, threw himself upon the big oily body, dived after it as it went down.
Baldwin was bawling like a baby, eyes closed, flat on his back, clutching his hand, unprotected.
Daniel pulled the knife out of his hand. Baldwin thrashed wildly, one of his feet caught Daniel in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him.
Daniel gagged, gasped for breath. The knife fell loose, clattering on stone.
Hearing it, Baldwin opened his eyes, sat up, reached for the weapon with his unbroken fingers.
Daniel threw himself upon Baldwin, avoided gnashing teeth, clawing fingers. Baldwin snarled, head-butted, tried to bite Daniel's nose. Daniel pushed back reflexively, felt something soft. Familiar. Yielding.
His fingers had discovered Baldwin's left eye. He closed them around the orb, pried, ripped it loose.
Baldwin shrieked again, and sank his teeth into Daniel's shoulder. Finding the wound, chewing it, enlarging it.
Daniel felt his flesh give way-he was being consumed.
Nearly blacked out from the pain, he forced thoughts of Shoshi into his mind, struggled for consciousness, plumbed Butcher's Theater memories, and went for the other eye.
Realizing what was happening, Baldwin twisted maniacally out of reach. But Daniel was pure intent now, his hand a hungry land crab, stalking its prey, undistractable. It found what it was looking for, seized it, tore it loose.