The men rushed for the table. Rick reached out and grabbed an ankle. Bracing his legs, he gave a mighty heave. Striped shirt went over backward in front of Barby, who stamped with both bare feet on his stomach. The breath went out of him with a whoosh.
Rick gathered his legs and shoved upward. The table heaved into the other man and threw him off balance long enough to give Rick a chance to get to his feet. Keeping the table between him and the dark man, Rick watched for an opening. Striped shirt was on his knees, shaking his head.
The dark man was tired of waiting. He launched himself across the table, arms outstretched. It was the best move he could have made, from Rick's point of view. The boy knew he could not compete with either man in strength. He had to depend on speed, and the infighting tricks he had learned from Scotty. He used one now. At the last moment he side-stepped and his hand flashed down. It was a judo chop, the hand held stiff, the blow delivered with the side opposite the thumb. It was effective. The man dropped to the floor, shaking his head. Rick used the savate, the blow delivered with the heel. It landed against the side of the man's neck. He went over sideways.
Striped shirt was on his feet now, but still starved for air. His mouth hung open as he gasped, but he was coming forward.
Rick met him. He dove into the man's stomach and felt his head smack into soft flesh. The breath went out of striped shirt again. Rick regained his feet and turned to Barby. She was making sounds through her gag, her eyes desperate.
The boy whirled. The women were back in the fight, one of them scrambling for the gun under Jan's chair. Jan kicked it far back, out of reach. Rick scooped up the table and slid it along the floor at them. The table caught them like a pair of tenpins and knocked them into the corner. He turned back to Barby and started to untie her, his fingers racing.
A blow landed on his shoulder. He turned in time to meet another one across the cheek that knocked him back against the wall. He rebounded, fighting. The dark man was crouched low, fists weaving. Rick danced lightly around him waiting. Let the man come to him.
The man led with a right. Rick rolled away from it, watching the left that was cocked for a Sunday punch. The man threw his punch. Rick caught it on the forearm and gasped with the pain of it. The guy had a wallop like a mule!
Rick feinted with the hurt arm, then drove a chop at the man's nose. It connected and brought a gasp of pain. Barby was screaming through the gag again, but he couldn't look now. He brought a roundhouse punch up under his opponent's guard and felt it smack solidly against ribs. Then an arm encircled his neck and a clenched fist crashed against the back of his head. He saw stars, and for a moment his guard dropped. Then both arms were pinioned.
Striped shirt had caught him from behind. Now the dark man stepped in, fist cocked for a knockout punch. Rick saw it coming and braced himself.