 . . . .
 . . .
again. Minutes later a shot rang out across the clearing and the fat redneck’s head exploded. It was from Jefferson’s rifle, and it was the signal. Chaos erupted among the rednecks as the Wolf Pack burst into the clearing from three sides. Unarmed, I remained in the woods. I watched Wolf as he led the charge from his side. His twin Desert Eagles roared as he advanced in a full sprint. Half a dozen of the rednecks fell before they could even begin to respond. One managed to point a shotgun, but he fell to the ground dead before he could pull the trigger as Jefferson’s rifle again boomed. By the time Wolf reached the pile of hippie body parts, all of the rednecks had been cut down by the gangs guns save one. The last redneck was tall and lanky. His eyes were filled with menace as he stared at wolf and brandished his axe. Wolf dropped his pistols without losing a step then drew his bangstick from a satchel on his
|
|