The silvery form stopped and elevated the Fryer nozzle, aiming at the giant.
Blade leaped to the passage below before the Terminator could fire. He sprinted to the end of the corridor and turned left at the first junction, then right at the next.
Glisson was 20 feet away, and he smiled broadly as the Warrior came into view. “Blade!”
“We must reach one of the doors,” Blade declared as he ran forward.
Less than a dozen feet remained to be covered when the hobo’s mouth slackened in alarm and he pointed at something to Blade’s rear.
“Look out!” he shouted.
Reacting instinctively, Blade threw himself to the floor, scuffing his elbows and knees. Sudden, blistering heat prickled the back of his body from his head to his toes. He saw a tongue of red and orange flame shoot overhead.
The fire enveloped Glisson.
Screaming in terror, ineffectually swatting at the flames, the tramp staggered backwards as his clothes combusted. He shrieked, spinning in circles, smacking his clothing repeatedly. “Help me!” he wailed.
Prevented from rising by the sheet of flame. Blade watched, shocked, as Glisson burned to death. Not more than 30 seconds elasped between the moment Glisson was struck by the flames and his near-total incineration.
His flesh blackened almost immediately, and he seemed to shrivel as the scorching heat engulfed him. The last sound he uttered was a pitiable whimper.
And still the Terminator poured on the flames.
Blade twisted on his stomach, squinting, trying to see the assassin but hampered by the flames. He realized the Terminator could not see him either, and he slid toward the killer, hoping he could reach the silvery slayer before the Terminator lowered the wall of shooting fire. His heart pounding, he crawled quickly until he detected a pair of silver boots a few feet in front of him.
There the bastard was!
His countenance set in grim lines, Blade pulled himself closer and reached out, gripping the Terminator’s ankles in his viselike hands and surging up and in. Excruciating, scalding anguish lanced his back, and the putrid scent of burning flesh, his burning flesh, assailed his nostrils. He rose, upending the Terminator.
As the killer fell, he lost his grip on the Fryer nozzle and the flamethrower quit spitting fire.
Blade held onto the Terminator’s ankles, and when the executioner fell onto the tanks with a loud clang, he savagely extended the Terminator’s legs as far as he could reach.
The man in the silver attire screeched as his groin was seared by exquisite torment.
In a cold, fierce fury, Blade kicked the Terminator where it would hurt the most, then released the man’s ankles and pounced on the killer’s chest, his knees gouging into the Terminator’s ribs. He drew the Bowies, the blades glistening as they arced through the air, and he sank the knives into the Terminator’s eyepieces, one in each eye.
Bucking and convulsing, the Terminator’s demise was grisly and fitting.
Blade tugged the Bowies loose and stood slowly, his gray eyes smoldering. He looked over his right shoulder at the charred form of his former acquaintance, then stalked into the maze, the knives at his sides.
He wasn’t running anymore.
There was a score to settle.
He threaded through the labyrinth, seeking the last pair of Terminators, and he came on them both simultaneously, rounding a corner.
Neither Terminator spotted the Warrior. Their backs were to him, and they were involved in an earnest discussion.
“…lost sight of him,” one was saying.
“And I haven’t seen Cooper anywhere,” said the second.
“Do you think that big son of a bitch got them?”
The second Terminator shrugged. “I don’t know. Who is he? I heard a crash and looked up in time to see him drop down.”
“I thought I saw a body fall first.”
“We should stick together,” suggested the second. “We’ll have a better chance of nailing the big guy.”
“If he’s alive,” remarked the first. “Did you hear those screams?”
“I’m alive,” declared a firm voice behind them. “Why don’t you come and get me?”
They swiveled, bringing up their Fryers.
Blade darted to the right, sprinted along a short passage, and turned to the left. He paused in the junction and waited, his expression steely.
A second later the Terminators jogged into view.
“Here I am!” Blade taunted them, and took off again. He weaved through the maze, never running at his full speed, deliberately holding back so the Terminators wouldn’t lose him. Whenever they managed to narrow the distance, he would increase the pace enough to preserve his lead. He was playing a deadly game of cat and mouse, and he led the pair on a winding chase for over ten minutes.
“Slow down and fight, you prick!” one of them yelled, frustrated by their failure to catch the giant.
“We want your ass!” snapped the second.
Blade reached an intersection and looked back, and as they came into sight he raced to the left. They were angry, and probably fatigued, and such a combination inevitably resulted in carelessness.
Now was the time to finish it.
He veered into a right-hand corridor, placed the Bowies in his sheaths, and executed a flying leap. His fingers closed on the lip of the right-hand wall, and he hauled himself up with fluid ease and flattened.
“Where the hell did he go?” a Terminator bellowed from the passage the Warrior had just vacated.
Blade slid closer to the junction until his boots were at the corner. He placed his palms on the edges of the wall and tensed. If the men in the silver suits were as provoked as he expected, they would come barreling around the corner without bothering to look upward.
An instant later, they did.
Blade sprang, his body serving as a massive projectile as he launched himself into a flying tackle. They were side by side when he plowed into them from behind, his arms looping around their waists, his momentum bowling them over.
Encumbered by their tanks and their Fryer nozzles, the Terminators were awkward in recovering.
Blade was on his feet first, and he grabbed the left arm of the nearest Terminator and twisted sharply until there was a distinct snap.
The Terminator shrieked.
Remorseless in his revenge, Blade swept his left leg into the other Terminator, who was trying to stand, and knocked the man to the floor.
Still grasping the arm of the injured assassin, he gripped the wrist in his right hand, the shoulder in his left, and drove his right knee into the man’s elbow.
There was a popping sound and the Terminator voiced a shrill cry.
Blade flung the first man to the floor.
The second Terminator heaved erect. At such close quarters he could not employ his flamethrower for fear of incincerating his companion.
Instead, he lashed out with his right boot.
A piercing pain racked Blade’s left kneecap and he inadvertently doubled over.
Pressing his advantage, the second Terminator aimed a kick at the giant’s face. The blow never landed.
Blade caught the Terminator’s boot in his hands and wrenched the leg, rotating the boot clockwise until his adversary vented a muffled oath and toppled to the right. Mentally suppressing the torment caused by his throbbing knee, Blade closed in and planted the knobby knuckles of his right fist on the Terminator’s headpiece, at the point where he estimated the man’s chin to be, as the silvery executioner was scrambling upward.
The Terminator went flying and crashed onto his back.
His ponderous fists clenched, Blade stalked forward, moving methodically, not bothering to draw his Bowies. He saw the Terminator struggling to rise yet again, and he waited until the man was almost upright before striking.