"I'm ba-ack…" the familiar, raspy voice called over the noise of the rain. I slowly turned-and faced my deceased adversary.
"That's impossible…I left you under a pile of rocks at the Indian burial ground…" I murmured.
"Well I'm back…and I remember how I died." he said, lifting his filthy shirt up so I could see the stab wound. I glanced at the knife in the wall, thinking if I could only kill him again and bury him somewhere that he'd STAY dead…
I looked back at Dib; our eyes locked in a silent stare-down. I lunged for the knife. He lunged for my throat. And he barely missed me.
Not waiting for him to get up off the floor, I brought the razor-edged PAK legs out and prepared to stab Dib again. At the last second he turned over on his back. It made no difference to me.
But just as the glinting blade was about to pierce his skull, it was stopped, and with inhuman strength wrenched out of my grip and thrown away. Dib grinned evilly up at me. His glassy eyes seemed to be staring daggers into my soul. It came down to now or never.
