Extremists building terror weapons in backwoods Florida, Bikers, Snipers, Truck drivers, Shifters and Strippers, what more could you ask?
A lone shaman with military connections must gather a force of unconventional heroes to derail terrorist attacks. Although they may not realize their own powers, each of his warriors are skilled in an unconventional form of warfare. With a great deal of luck their leader may convince them the key to victory rests not in the hands of their allies, but in their allies' paws and claws...
Outside, Tammy stepped over the curb and headed into the woods. “You should stay back at the bikes.”
Charlie shook his head. “Sorry, my macho ego won’t let me watch you wander around the big, dark woods all by your lonesome.”
Tammy was pleased at his concern but didn’t want him to know it just yet. “In that case, let me give you a piece of Native-American woodlore.”
She brushed past a sapling and a thin limb swatted Charlie on the chest. Aggravated, he pushed it aside.
She chuckled. “Don’t follow so close and you won’t get smacked in the face from a branch.”
Taking her advice, he dropped back a little, but kept her in sight as she slowly moved from shadow to shadow. The only sounds seemed to be distant engines on the Interstate. Suddenly, she froze and held a warning hand, palm-open, towards him. He froze and tried to see past her.
The sound of a vehicle startled him, and he could just make out the tail lights and a couple of figures in the dashboard glow. The pickup left too quickly to get any sort of identification.
As soon as it was out of sight, Tammy started moving forward. He followed her, and when they left the woods, he could see a small open trailer in the middle of the fire road. It had a dark tube taped to the top and some wires.
Suddenly, he realized what it was.
“Tams! Stop! Don’t get near―”
His mind registered the brilliant, orange-white flash with a corona of blue sparks and then the concussion threw both of them back into the trees.