"HEAD FOR THE WOODS!"

  Hickok took a step, his eyes on the aircraft.  "Look! It's diving!"
  Blade tensed as the plane banked and dove.  "Move it!" he shouted.
  The gunfighter ignored the command, his hands flashing to his pearl-handled Magnums, the Colts clearing leather at the same instant the gunner in the aircraft opened fire.  A pattern of exploding turf stitched a direct path toward Hickok, who calmly stood firm and blasted from the hip.
  Frowning in annoyance, Blade quickly brought the M-16 into play, stopping and raising the automatic rifle to his right shoulder and squeezing off a hurried burst.
  Rikke-Tikki-Tavi joined in with his Uzi.
  The gunner in the plane was concentrating on Hickok.  His shots came within inches of the gunfighter's moccasins as the craft winged within 20 feet of the Warrior's head....

#18
MEMPHIS RUN

THE HOUNDS OF HADES

  Three of the squad were still standing.  A man with a scar on his chin raised his M-16 to shoot, but took a slug in his right eye that spun him completely around and stopped him in his tracks.
  Only two left.  Both were within six feet of Blade, one to his left, the other his right.  With consummate skill, Blade raised the knives overhead and threw.  The blades glistened in the sunlight as they flew into the chests of their respective targets.  Twelve inches of cold steel were imbedded to the hilt in each Hound.  Both men looked astonished; both dropped their machine guns and clutched at the Bowies; both gawked at Blade in amazement for a moment; and both sank into eternity without uttering a sound.