Free Hunt the Dragon by Don Mann Page A

and hurrying—a short man with a wrestler’s body wearing a black tracksuit.
    Crocker got up and sprinted toward him. Halfway there, someone screamed from the helo. Shots rang out. He fixed his eyes on the man’s legs and launched himself. Hit the back of the man’s knees hard and saw stars.
    They were grappling in the dirt, dust in his eyes and mouth, more swirling around him, the man screaming and swearing in a language that sounded like Chinese.
    Crocker located the man’s head with his hands, delivered some quick, short blows to the front and right. Then the man twisted violently and kicked him in the groin. All the air went out of Crocker, and the pain was so intense he couldn’t help but loosen his grip just enough for the man to squirm away.
    He reached for him blindly, ignoring the pangs that shot up his back and down his legs. The helo started lifting off. Shots rained down on Crocker, tearing up the ground around him. He rolled under the helo and looked for the man but couldn’t find him.
    As the helicopter rose, he rolled left, then got to his feet and zigzagged sharply left and right. The helo stopped at thirty feet and hovered. Automatic-weapon fire poured from the doors and windows on both sides—like a wave of deadly bees.
    Seeing a boulder ahead, he dove behind it and hugged its base, heart pounding, dirt in his mouth. The firing paused momentarily. He thought of Cyndi waiting. Jenny, Holly. Maybe the guys in the helicopter had lost sight of him. Maybe they were going to wait for him to give up, which would never fucking happen.
    While the helo continued to hover as though the men inside couldn’t decide whether to land and eliminate him or fly away, he quickly considered his options. There weren’t any.
    Past the bottom of the boulder he saw a glint from the chrome hardware on the black Pelican case the man had been carrying. Either Crocker had managed to wrestle it away or the man had left it. Didn’t really matter.
    Maybe the guys can’t see it ’cause it’s black and covered with dirt?
    He hoped so as he looked for a route of escape. Any movement of his part would involve tremendous risk, so he waited, hoping that the next moment would reveal a solution, the tension stretching tauter by the second.
    Looking at his dirt-covered hands, he realized he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. He felt for it in his pocket.
    Yeah, it’s still there.
    Moments like this distilled existence to its essence—life and death, good and evil, love and hate. He loved Holly and always would.
    Imagine thinking of her with my last breath.
    The sound of the helo engine deepened. He saw the landing lights wash over the landscape.
    Taking what he knew was a foolish risk, Crocker snuck a look. The helicopter was landing, which meant he was fucked. They would see the boulders. They would figure it was the only place in the vicinity where he could be hiding.
    Just as he expected, shots rang out and pinged off the rock. He glanced behind him, looking for the route of escape. Facing forward again, he saw the flicker of flames in his periphery near the SUVs. Seconds later the sky lit up with a massive explosion that shook the ground and pushed the helo up and to the left like a toy. A large piece of metal from one of the Escalades clanged off the rocks. The closer SUV was engulfed in flames.
    Manny? WTH!
    He held his breath as the helo spun left. He was praying for it to crash, but the pilot managed to level it. The engine whined higher and the helo ascended and banked left. He followed its dark shape along the ridge of the mountain as the Escalade continued to burn.
    He waited a minute until the sound of the rotors chopping the air receded and was replaced by the hiss and crackle of flames.
    “Manny?” he called.
    “Boss.” His small, pained voice tripped across the landscape to his right.
    He found Manny lying on his side, his face glowing orange in the reflected light.
    “You saved my ass, buddy. You torch that