I jumped to my feet and already the noise and pain was fading. My head must have been creased. I saw Nessa step in front of the yellow-haired beast and then almost by reflex I did what I'd have done years before on the football field. I collected my strength and hurled myself at Cuff's shins in a flying tackle.
He was a brawler, a magnificent piece of muscle, but his technique was to pick people up and tear them apart. At fighting this way, falling and being walloped himself, he wasn't so good. What I had to do was avoid being gripped by those bear-traps of his, and whittle him down. Maybe I could do it, if Skagarach would let me.
As I catapulted out of the way of a flailing paw, and gained my feet again, I saw Skagarach fling Nessa to the side, swearing in gutturals. I was standing by the control board and my heavy revolver lay within reach of my hand. I snatched it and the basic infuriated male animal was uppermost in me and I didn't even recognize what I held. It wasn't a gun, it was a heavy projectile. I threw it at Skagarach as he aimed his own weapon at me. My gun crashed into his face. He dropped as if he'd been shot.
Shot! My God! I'd thrown a loaded revolver away!
Bill Cuff was up and the room was too tiny for ducking purposes. I eluded one massive arm but the other enfolded me from behind and the giant hand clasped my shirt front. I aimed a kick for his groin, and saw the fist coming in time to duck and catch the blow slanting on the side of my face. I thought my cheek had been ripped off.
He still had me fast but I jammed down my heels and thrust my whole body backwards. The cloth went to hell, and I was free.
He bore down like a bulldozer. I was in a corner, unable to dive under his hands or between his legs, unable now to avoid those deadly fingers. I backed and there was a stool behind me. My groping hands discovered nothing to snatch and throw. Without reasoning I leaped up and landed on the stool, a short thing about twelve or fourteen inches high. Then the football period came back again, and I could almost see the field before me and the men pushing in to stop me from making that punt....
I swung my right foot back in a short arc and swept it forward and up, old science and old muscles responding to my need, and neatly and viciously I drop-kicked Bill Cuff under the chin.
His head jerked back and there was a report like a .22 rifle going off. He crumpled down into himself like a granite pile collapsing. I knew without looking close that he was good and dead.