General Namgung stopped and lowered the nose of his rifle, aiming at the man crawling away.
He showed great courage in attacking us, but now runs like a coward, thought the general.
As he pushed the trigger to fire, he felt the hot wind of hell swirling around him. He glanced up, realizing it was a helicopter.
In the next instant, a half-dozen 9 mm parabellum bullets riddled his neck and chest.
Rankin leapt out of the Little Bird as it touched down, running toward the body to the left of the chopper. At first glance, he thought he’d made a mistake; it looked like a Korean.
At second glance, it looked dead.
Ferguson pitched himself onto his back, trying to bring up the AK-47.
Rankin stepped on the gun. Ferguson was so weak he lost his grip on the weapon. He blinked, then realized who was standing there.
“About fuckin’ time, Skippy,” Ferguson croaked. “You missed all the fun.”