What happens when a 5,000-year-old Starman, a Voodoo Queen, a sarcastic, telepathic cat, and a motley crew of former Louisiana Creole military veterans join forces to save America from a mutating Nano virus?
New Orleans is Ground Zero for the Russian Mafia’s most sinister plot yet. But their plan to release a Nano virus that mutates food crops is missing one vital component… water. Lucky for them, The Big Easy has plenty to spare.
A band of untamed and unfettered misfits join forces to stop the Russians or watch as they destroy crops from coast-to-coast.
With questionable skills, highly volatile personalities, unadulterated chaos, and more drama than a soap opera, the crew of unlikely allies must achieve the impossible.
Can they do it without creating another disaster?
Find out in this Sci-fi Action-Adventure novel!
Targeted Age Group:: 18-65
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
Walking on the beach, staring at a fiery sunset over the ocean, enjoying a fine cigar with a scotch. I wondered "What if my cat Juno was telepathic and could levitate objects." And "What if he was 5,000 years old and from another planet?"
I went back to my motorhome and began a story featuring a sarcastic, telepathic cat and assortment of heroes.
The Binding Volume 1 came from the beach, a cigar and a scotch. I don't advocate that process for everyone, but for me it always works!
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Bastet the Cat was modeled after my cat, Juno. For her to be 5,000 years old with special magical skills, she had to be from another planet. Thus her traveling companion is a 5,000 year old Starman with many powers of his own.
Mindy the last Voodoo Queen of New Orleans was modeled after my wife Mindy.
Neurotic Jerry has special cloaking powers to become invisible and he just snuck in the back door into the book one night. Totten, leader of the New Orleans street people along with Mama Mindy, was based on my wife's best friend.
The Louisiana Creole militia is a gumbo of many different friends from my life.
The Russian Mafia, I am not sure about.
Double Trouble at the Double Deuce
Jerry entered the Double Deuce parking lot and threw caution to the wind. He parked in front.
He entered and transitioned from bright sun to darkness, making it impossible to see anything other than the large bar. For a moment, Jerry thought he was staring into the flaming dark pit, but he knew it was only a trick of the mind.
He stumbled to the bar blinded from the sun. He looked up and down the bar for an empty stool and was in luck since there were about thirty.
The bartender slid over to Jerry and asked what he would like. A lot of things, thought Jerry, but for now, I will settle for an ice cold Tecate. It had been so long since he had a drink, he was not even sure he liked Tecate, but it had an alluring name and was from Mexico, so maybe it contained mescal.
“An ice cold Tecate, please,” Jerry replied.
The bartender set the beer down, asking Jerry, “Need anything else right now?”
“No, thanks.” He smiled at the bartender.
He sipped his beer and enjoyed every tantalizing drop. He spun on his stool to look around as the darkness lifted and light filtered in. Jerry took inventory with whom he was celebrating this special day.
He noticed a couple with a single candle burning over in the corner where daylight whimpered out. The filtered light could not compete with the white flame in their eyes. That flame was stoked by the beers and martinis enjoyed as far as possible from their respective home.
The only other folks gracing the Double Deuce this day included an old, hunched-over man in for his daily dose of life. Further down the bar was a haggard middle-age man with a drooping mustache. Down from him, Jerry saw a large hulk of a man downing what he thought was vodka. He was best left alone, Jerry thought.
He drained the Tecate and thought the only thing to add to his day would be to order nachos; the greasier the better. “Barkeep,” Jerry yelled to catch his attention while he leaned over the counter. He figured the barkeep didn’t hear him because of his heavy workload.
“Barkeep,” Jerry yelled the second time while he leaned over the bar. The barkeep resigned himself he had to wait on the idiot hovering over the edge before he fell over.
“What do you need?” the barkeep asked Jerry.
“I would like to order nachos; the greasier the better,” Jerry responded.
The barkeep replied “My friend you are in luck. Our nachos are the greasiest in town, in the Parish and in the South.”
Bless the barkeep’s heart; he is having a bad day and should have eaten a toad this morning! Jerry thought to himself.
The nachos arrived, steaming hot with enough grease to elect a new mayor of New Orleans. Jerry said, “All right!”
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