I could hear his footsteps as he raced down the path and was able to time the swing of my arm to clothesline him perfectly. His whole body rose in the air as my arm caught his chest and slid up to his chin. He landed on the ground with a thud.

The gun flew from his hand and landed somewhere in the brush, out of sight. In the few seconds I spent looking for the gun, the man was on his feet and facing me.

He was about my size, with close-cropped brown hair and a tattoo of a teardrop next to his left eye. That meant either he had never been in the military or had been out long enough to get the facial tattoo. Right now that kind of deduction wouldn’t help me. He was tough. Too tough for his own good.

He also knew how to fight. His stance gave away nothing, with his fists up to protect his face.

I stepped in and his right leg swung up, blasting me on the right side of my body with a round kick. I deflected some of it with my arm but it still sent a shiver of pain and shock through me. So now I knew he was as fast as lightning, too. I leaned in again and drew a swing of his right fist, which was what I wanted. I dipped slightly and connected with a big punch into his side and was rewarded with the sound of a rib cracking. It might not stop him, but it would make him think every time he moved.

The man backed off slightly but gave no acknowledgment of the blow. We were both breathing hard already and starting to sweat. Most people have no idea how hard it is to actually fight. Adrenaline and physical exertion together can be a bitch.

The man moved forward and threw two front kicks, which I blocked, but they were still powerful. I managed a glancing elbow to his chin, which drove him back and also convinced him he wasn’t going to beat me hand to hand.

He kept his distance as he reached into his rear pocket and yanked out a knife. It was the Army Ranger version of mine.

I matched him by jerking my knife from my front pocket and flicking it open, then holding it steady a little in front of me.

The man had a loose grasp on his knife and swung it from side to side as he circled me, looking for an opening.

A trickle of sweat slipped into my eye, but I couldn’t wipe it.

The man’s lip was bleeding from my elbow strike.