The Lion

As we struggled, I realized he wasn't weakening at all, but I was, and he knew that, so he was waiting me out. Time to do something.

I gave him a head butt, but it didn't cause him any more pain than it did me. He retaliated by trying to get his teeth on my face again, which is what I wanted him to do. I clamped my teeth on his big hooked nose, and I bit down as hard as I've ever bitten on anything. Before he screamed, I felt his cartilage cracking under my teeth and I tasted the blood oozing out of his nose and into my mouth.

He was in real pain now, so he barely noticed that I'd released my bite on his nose. I spit blood into his left eye, and when the eyelid closed, I got my teeth on it and ripped at it.

I spit more blood in his eyes and said quietly, "I'm go

He spit back at me, then managed to get a bite out of my chin.

A man in great pain and great danger has super strength-adrenaline-charged muscle power-and Khalil arched his body up with me on top, which gave him the leverage he needed to go into a rolling motion, trying to reverse our positions and get on top of me. I lost my grip on his knife hand, and he immediately brought his knife down into my back again, slicing into my rib cage.

He would have stabbed me again, but I suddenly relaxed my muscles, and he found himself going through the rest of his twist and roll without resistance, and this put him unexpectedly face-first into the ground with me on his back. His knife hand was free, but he couldn't use it from that position, and he tried to scramble away, but I came down heavy, and he collapsed on his chest and stomach. Both my hands were free now, and I pulled his head back by his long hair and slashed his throat, then pushed his face into the mud. He didn't make a move or a sound, but my instincts said he wasn't finished.

In fact, his arm slid under his body, and I knew he was going for his gun. I got there first and snatched the gun out of his belt, and because you don't want a gun in play this close, I jumped off him and stepped back.

I stood there, breathing hard, keeping my eye on him.

The stadium lights were shining in my eyes, and my stocking feet were buried in the mud. A worse problem was that the wetness was spreading over my back, and it felt warm in the cool night air.

I realized that Khalil's second stab had gone deeper than I thought, and I was losing blood.

My head was getting light, and I felt my knees giving out, then I found myself kneeling on the ground.

Khalil was moving now, and I watched as he rose slowly to his feet.

His back was to me, but I saw him wiping his face with his hands, then he turned around, saw me, and began walking toward me.

His face and clothes were covered with mud, but I could see the blood on his throat and his shirt, and I realized that the blood wasn't gushing the way it should have if I'd hit his jugular or carotid.

He spotted his knife on the ground, picked it up, and kept coming toward me.

Die, you sonofabitch.

I stood too quickly, and I felt light-headed again. I thought I was going to pass out, but I took a few deep breaths and kept still so my heart wouldn't start pumping more blood out of me.

Khalil kept coming, holding his knife in front of him.

When he was less than ten feet from me, he said, "Your face."

Well, I didn't want him to deface me, and as far as I was concerned, the knife fight was over. So I raised Kate's Glock and pointed it at him. My arm was unsteady, and again I thought I was going to black out.

I said, "Drop the knife."

I noticed that the Glock was totally covered with mud, and I wasn't sure it was going to fire, and neither was he. I said, "Drop it, asshole," but I didn't really want him to drop it. I should have had no trouble just pulling the trigger, but… I couldn't do that; I wanted him to earn his bullet.

He took a few more steps, then sunk to his knees.

It was over, but it's not over until it's over-and he was still holding his knife pointed at me.

I would have waited it out, but I was starting to get that old bleeding-to-death feeling that I remembered too well, so I had to put the final nail in this bastard… I aimed at his head and squeezed on the trigger, but then I stopped and looked at him. I lowered the gun and shoved it in my belt.

Again, Khalil stood, and he did the zombie walk with his knife pointing the way toward me.

I took a deep breath, then lunged at him with my knife, parrying his arm away as I brought the K-bar up in an underhand motion. The blade sliced through the bottom of his chin, through his mouth and into his palate, where it stuck. I let go of the knife and stepped back.

His eyes widened, and he tried to speak or scream, but I think the blade must have passed through his tongue, and he just made a few unintelligible sounds as blood ran out of his mouth.

He started choking, then amazingly he took another step toward me, and we made eye contact, not three feet apart.

I looked into his eyes. One eye was filled with blood where I'd ripped his eyelid, but the other was bright and burning, and it stared at me.

The handle of my K-bar knife was stuck up to the hilt under his chin, and he looked like he'd sprouted a strange goatee.

I said to him, "My wife is alive. I am alive. You are dead."

He kept staring at me, then he shook his head.

I saw weird green-and-yellow stuff oozing out of his mouth and nose-maybe mucus from his sinus cavity, or maybe this guy was from outer space.

Asad Khalil was dead, but he wasn't finished dying, and I wasn't feeling so well myself.

So we both stood there, a few feet apart, our eyes fixed on each other, and I had the sense that this was a contest of wills-who was going to drop first?

Well, it wasn't going to be me. I managed to keep standing, even though my head was starting to spin.

Khalil suddenly seemed aware that he had a problem, and his right hand came up and grabbed the handle of the knife stuck under his chin.

Well, nobody but me touches Uncle Ernie's combat knife, so I hauled off and smashed him in the face.

He went down, and I knew he wasn't getting up again, so I let myself fall to my knees.

Then I crawled over to Khalil, turned, and dropped my head and shoulders on his chest to keep my wounds elevated.

I could feel his chest still rising and falling.

I stared up at the sky and felt a light drizzle on my face, which felt good.

I found my cell phone and called 911. I said to the dispatcher, "Ten-thirteen…" Officer in trouble. I IDed myself and gave her my shield number, then using cop lingo to make this sound real, I said, "I need a bus, forthwith," an ambulance-now. I gave her the location and had to repeat it, then I said, "Look for the… big semi… Carlino Masonry… yeah… let's be quick."

I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing and my beating heart. This was going to be close.

Within five minutes, I heard sirens up on Church Street, then a minute later I felt Khalil's chest heave and stop.

I turned my head and looked at Vince Paresi dangling from the big crane. I took a deep breath and said to him, "It's over, Captain-we won."