Both men went down, Lou on top, still hammering downward with as much power as he had in him. It was as if he were punching stone. The man, with at least a four-inch and fifty-pound advantage, reached up and grasped Lou by the throat. He was a beast, and his ham-hock hands were pure power. Lou tucked in his chin to protect himself, but too late. His trachea and larynx were seconds from collapsing.

Still on top, he slammed his forehead down onto the man’s nose. Blood burst from both nostrils, but incredibly, the killer’s grip hardly lessened. His teeth were bared in a snarling rictus, and Lou’s vision began to dim. Grinning obscenely, he rolled Lou onto his back. Thick dollops of blood splashed down into Lou’s eyes.

He landed two more wild blows, but the behemoth simply squeezed harder. Lou’s flailing weakened. It was over. Images of Emily and Renee, his father and brother took over his thoughts. At the instant his vision went completely dark, he heard a loud gunshot followed by a muffled cry of pain from on top of him. The flow of blood from the man exploded into a fountain, and he toppled limply to the ground.

Gasping, Lou could only lie where he was.

Finally, he managed to turn.

The huge killer lay motionless beside him, blood soaking through the groin of his trousers. Then Lou realized that the top of his head had burst open as well.

George knelt nearby, smiling proudly. “I couldn’t find my thirty-eight,” George said, “but this damn water buffalo had a cannon. Just look at this thing. This is some serious firepower.”

Groaning, Lou forced himself to his knees. George’s bullet had gone straight up between the man’s legs and had blown off the top of his head.

Serious firepower, indeed.

“Nice shot,” Lou understated.

“You all right, Welcome?” George asked. “You look like something Jason got ahold of in Friday the Thirteenth.”

Lou pawed at the gore on his face with the sleeve of his jacket. It took some work, but gradually his vision cleared. “I’m okay, thanks to you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry about your cousin.”

“I can’t believe this has happened. We gotta find him. He’s not dead. I know my cousin, Welcome. He’s not dead!”

“We’ll look for him as soon as we can,” Lou said, knowing in his heart what they would find. “We’ve got to get back to the car. We can call for help, provided there’s any reception.”

“How many you estimate are out there, not countin’ him?”

“I’m guessing four. Could be five. Stay low, George, and try not to fire that thing anymore unless someone’s about to kill me again.”