As a pentagon-funded project to create the perfect spy weapon goes awry, Dr. Tony
Villaneueva, a specialist in neurosurgery, stumbles across conspiracy by the project's
head scientist, R.R. Murphy. An illicit drug that not only enhances psi activity, but also gives non-psychic subjects temporary power of murderous proportions, is being fed to a control group of hard-core convicts. Villaneueva befriends nine teenagers highly gifted with natural telekenetic powers--self-named the Ghost Dancers--who are being held at a retreat in Montana as the unwitting objects of Murphy's drive for power. 

"We are the last desperate gasp of a dying culture," one of the Ghost Dancers
prophesizes, and they soon realize there is no way back from the precipice of a new and fearful age. In the chilling climactic scene, the Ghost Dancers come to grips with a horrible reality--their minds have become the ultimate weapons.

Science fiction at its best. First of a trilogy.
 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR 
C.J. Hannah lives near Hollister, California, and teaches writing part time at San Jose
State University. An earlier novel, "Ashes To The Wind," a study of death and identity,
was published by Avon Books.

EXCERPT 

     They joined once more, first seeing the man, then intensifying their concentration, visualizing a thick silver beam of light pouring from them into the man's mind.
     He collapsed totally and silently, slipping off to one side of his horse, which leaped forward suddenly, spooked by the unexpected shift in weight. The man flopped downward, one foot caught in the stirrup, his head and arms bouncing along the ground as the horse bolted, dragging the unconscious guard across rocks and logs and through clumps of sage brush until it reached the clearing near the front gate.
     Megan and Dan broke contact and stared at one another, their fright evident in their faces. Their powers were still increasing.
     The two guards on the bunk house porch leaped to their feet, weapons ready, as the horse clattered across the road. One of the guards ran out and grabbed the loose reins, jerking the horse around to a halt. The other guard rushed up and knelt over the body of the man hanging from the stirrup. He placed two fingers on an artery in the man's neck.
     "He's dead." He stood and looked in the direction the horse had come from.
     "Think maybe his horse spooked and drug him?"
     "Maybe, but he doesn't look all that beat up."
     The other guard shook his head. "Wouldn't take much. One good whack on the head..."
     His companion nodded. "We'd better notify..." He crumpled suddenly to the ground, his shotgun clattering on the road.
     "Hey! Bill! What..." The second guard collapsed as he reached out toward his companion.
     Beaux moved silently out of the shadows to the fallen men, quickly searched them, found the keys to the front gate, then hesitated as he reached for one of the shotguns. --no beaux, we don't need it.-- Dan's voice came clearly to him.
     Beaux nodded, ran to the front gate and unlocked it. As the three Ghost Dancers moved silently past the fallen men and out the gate, several dark figures watched from the nearby hills several miles away. In the distance the two coyotes yapped and howled at the high riding moon.