The blow knocked the wind out of Dak, and he cursed himself for not seeing it coming. His plan had been to let Bo wear himself down, then counter with a quick attack of his own and finish the fight.
Instead, it appeared Bo had been ready for that plan, and now he didn't seem fatigued at all, aside from the shallow panting for air.
Dak wished he could get even a minuscule amount of air in his lungs, but his chest remained locked as his enemy stalked toward him.
"You get too caught up in what's right in front of you, Dak," Bo preached.
Dak scooted backward along the gravel, still clutching the knife as he retreated.
"When you narrow your focus, you forget the big picture, the grand scheme of things." Bo extended his hands out above his shoulders. "Just like with how you found yourself in this predicament." He pointed the knife at Dak, letting it bob as if chastising a child with a ruler.
The air abruptly returned to Dak's lungs and he sucked it in with huge gasps. Relief flooded him and he glared at Bo again while clawing himself back to his feet.
"I don't think you should be telling anyone how to live their lives, Bo. You're a murderer and a liar. I'm not sure which is worse."
Bo pouted his lips as if he didn't care that his opponent was correct. "Yes, well, that may be true, Dak. But don't act like your hands are so squeaky clean. You've killed. I'm not just talking about Iraq either. You killed men you served with, men you knew. You're no better than me."
"I didn't say I was better," Dak responded. "I know I have sins on my ledger, ones that I'll live with for the rest of my life. But your boys got what they deserved. Just like you will."
Bo snorted a derisive laugh. "Perhaps, but not today. And not from you."
He launched an unexpected strike, stepping quickly toward Dak and then leaping. Dak didn't anticipate the attack, but he reacted in time to dive onto the gravel again. Instead of trying to get away, he rolled directly at his enemy, who flew by before he knew what had happened.
Dak and Bo stopped suddenly, but Dak recovered faster and from a crouching position drew the blade's sharp edge across the achilles tendon of Bo's right leg. The knife sunk deep as it carved through skin and tissue, easily slicing the tendon in two.
Dak heard an audible pop followed by a scream of pain.
Bo fell onto his side, grasping at the wounded heel. A look of anguish stretched his face, replacing all of the bravado he'd worn just seconds before. Amid a flood of profanities, mostly directed at Dak, the air around the two men grew heavy, as if the reaper himself had descended into the hills to collect another soul.
Upon sensing the change in the air, Dak glanced around and realized it was just a cloud overhead, giving them shade, though he could have sworn something else loomed in the ether around him.
It didn't matter.
He would finish this fight.
Dak trudged toward Bo, who kicked his good leg out to push himself away. He repeated the process, looking like a wounded animal.
"What were you saying about not getting cocky?" Dak asked.
"You got lucky," Bo said. "But it's not over yet."
He scrambled to his feet… or foot, and leaned on it with all his weight. Bo grimaced in agony, but he would not surrender, not even when he had to fight on one leg.
"Maybe I got lucky," Dak admitted. "Or maybe you never had control of your emotions. You let them get in your way and make rash decisions, just like in Iraq."
Bo's eyes gleamed hungrily. He still believed he would win, that he would kill Dak. He couldn't believe he'd been so foolish, so careless.
Dak stopped five feet from his ex-teammate. Bo flashed his teeth. Ever the predator, he had no intention of going down easily.
"Come get it, Dak."
He flicked his fingers, beckoning Dak forward.
Dak knew better. He'd already calculated the five potential moves Bo had in his now limited arsenal.
Seconds ticked by as Dak decided what to do. Leaves fluttered through the air around them as a breeze swelled to a gust. Dak knew Nicole was watching from the barn's second floor, but he didn't dare look at her. He focused only on Bo and the attack.
Bo licked his top lip to relieve it from the dry air, but Dak only took it as a disgusting gesture from a back-stabber.
Dak lunged abruptly, the knife in his right hand diving toward Bo's upper chest. Bo reacted, but a fraction too soon. He overcommitted, turning his body to avoid the strike and counter with his own backhanded stab. Dak's motion changed in an instant. As his body twisted, he tossed the blade from his right hand to his left. When his fingers and palm made contact, he squeezed and jerked the knife toward himself.
Bo's exposed neck stood in the way, and the man only realized what was about to happen a fraction of a second before the tip pierced his skin.
Dak felt the blade resist for a second as it plunged into his enemy's throat. He pulled through that resistance effortlessly, driving the long hunting knife into Bo's neck and up into the bottom of his skull.
Bo's eyes blinked once and then remained open, staring lifelessly into the sky over the farmhouse. His body went limp and fell to the ground. Dak let go of the knife handle and let it drop to the ground with his victim. Bo's body lay on the ground, his head on a gravel pillow.
Dak's breathing slowed again. The scene around him returned to the peaceful tranquility from before. The birds' songs resumed, and it was only then Dak realized that nature itself seemed to have watched the duel between the two men.
He tore his gaze away from the dead man at his feet
