{"id":15502,"date":"2013-09-05T20:08:16","date_gmt":"2013-09-06T01:08:16","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=15502"},"modified":"2013-09-05T20:08:16","modified_gmt":"2013-09-06T01:08:16","slug":"unlimited-by-davis-bunn","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=15502","title":{"rendered":"Unlimited by Davis Bunn"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/strong><\/span> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between!<\/p>\n

Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Today’s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n

\u00a0Davis Bunn<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0and the book:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0Unlimited
\n<\/a><\/span><\/strong>B&H Books (September 1, 2013)<\/span><\/p>\n

***Special thanks to Rick Roberson for sending me a review copy.***<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n
\"\"<\/a><\/div>\n

Davis Bunn is a three-time Christy Award-winning, best-selling author now serving as writer-in-residence at Regent’s Park College, Oxford University in the United Kingdom. Defined by readers and reviewers as a “wise teacher,” “gentleman adventurer,” “consummate writer,” and “Renaissance man,” his work in business took him to over forty countries around the world, and his books have sold more than seven million copies in sixteen languages. Among those titles are The Presence<\/i>, Winner Take All<\/i>, and Lion of Babylon<\/i>.
\nVisit the author’s website<\/a>.<\/p>\n

SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>Simon Orwell is a brilliant student whose life has taken a series of wrong turns. At the point of giving up on his dreams, he gets a call from an old professor who has discovered a breakthrough in a device that would create unlimited energy, and he needs Simon’s help. But once he crosses the border, nothing goes as the young man planned. The professor has been killed and Simon is assaulted and nearly killed by members of a powerful\u00a0 drug cartel. Now he must take refuge in the only place that will help him, a local orphanage. There, Simon meets Harold Finch, the orphanage proprietor who walked away from a lucrative career with NASA and consulting Fortune 500 companies to serve a higher\u00a0 cause. With Harold’s help, Simon sets out on a quest to uncover who killed the professor and why. In due time, he will discover secrets to both the world changing device and his own unlimited potential.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/object><\/div>\n

Product Details:<\/strong><\/p>\n

List Price: $8.99
\nPaperback: 320 pages
\nPublisher: B&H Books (September 1, 2013)
\nLanguage: English
\nISBN-10: 143367940X
\nISBN-13: 978-1433679407<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

AND NOW…THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong>
\n<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

A hot, dusty wind buffeted Simon through the Mustang\u2019s open top. He started to pull over and close up the car. But the convertible\u2019s electric motor did not work, and he would have to fight the top by hand. When he had started off that morning, the predawn air had carried a frigid bite. Now his sweatshirt lay in the empty passenger seat, covering the remaining water bottle and his iPod.The car\u2019s radio worked, but one of the speakers was blown. The iPod\u2019s headphones were hidden beneath the sweatshirt as well. Simon doubted the border authorities cared whether he listened to music on an in-ear system. But he didn\u2019t want to give them any reason to make trouble.He didn\u2019t know what he had been expecting for a small-town border crossing, but it definitely was not this. An American flag flew over a fortified concrete building. The flag snapped and rippled as Simon pulled forward. In front of him were three trucks and a few vans. One car had Texas plates, one produce truck was from Oklahoma, and the other half-dozen vehicles were Mexican. That was it. The crossing was four lanes in each direction, and all but two were blocked off with yellow traffic cones. The border crossing looked ready to handle an armada. The empty lanes heightened the sense of desolation.As he waited his turn, a harvest truck rumbled past, bringing sacks of vegetables to the United States. The driver shot Simon a gold-toothed grin through his open window. As though the two of them shared a secret. They were passing through the only hassle-free crossing between Mexico and the USA.Or so Simon hoped.To either side of the crossing grew the fence. Simon had heard about the border fence for years. But it was still a jarring sight. Narrow steel girders marched in brutal regularity out of sight in both directions. The pillars were thirty feet high, maybe more, and spaced so the wind whistled between them in a constant piercing whine, like a siren, urging Simon to turn back while he still could. Only he didn\u2019t have a choice. Or he would not have made this journey in the first place.<\/p>\n

Simon passed the U.S. checkpoint and drove across the bridge. Below flowed the silted gray waters of the Rio Grande.The Mexican border officer took in the dusty car and Simon\u2019s disheveled appearance and directed him to pull over. Simon heaved a silent sigh and did as he was ordered.<\/p>\n

The Mexican customs official was dressed in blue\u2014navy trousers, shirt, hat. He circled Simon\u2019s car slowly before saying,<\/p>\n

\u201cYour passport.\u201d He examined it carefully. \u201cWhat is the purpose of your visit to Mexico, se\u00f1or?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m making a presentation to the Ojinaga city council.\u201d<\/p>\n

The officer glanced at Simon, then the car, and finally the black duffel bag that filled the rear seat.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat kind of presentation?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy advisor at MIT retired down here last year. We\u2019ve been working on a project together.\u201d He plucked the letter from his shirt pocket and unfolded it along the well-creased lines.<\/p>\n

The officer studied it. \u201cDo you read Spanish, Dr . . . . ?\u201d<\/p>\n

He started to correct the man, then decided it didn\u2019t matter. The officer had no need to know Simon had dropped out. \u201cDr. Vasquez, my professor, he translated it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have cut this very close, se\u00f1or.\u201d The officer checked his watch. \u201cIt says your appointment is in less than two hours.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI expected the trip from Boston to take two days. It\u2019s taken four. My car broke down. Twice.\u201d<\/p>\n

The officer pointed to the duffel. \u201cWhat is in the bag?\u201d \u201cScientific instrumentation.\u201d Simon reached back and unzipped the top.<\/p>\n

The Mexican officer frowned over the complicated apparatus. \u201cIt looks like a bomb.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know. Or a vacuum cleaner.\u201d He swallowed against a dry throat. \u201cI get that a lot.\u201d<\/p>\n

The officer handed back Simon\u2019s passport and letter. \u201cWelcome to Mexico, se\u00f1or.\u201d<\/p>\n

Simon restarted the motor and drove away. He kept his hands tight on the wheel and his eyes on the empty road ahead. There was no need to be afraid. He was not carrying drugs. He was not breaking any law. This time. But the memory of other border crossings kept his heart rate amped to redline as he drove slowly past the snapping flags and the dark federales\u2019 cars.<\/p>\n

His attention was caught by a man leaning against a dusty SUV. The Mexican looked odd from every angle. He was not so much round as bulky, like an aging middleweight boxer. Despite the heat, he was dressed in a beige leather jacket that hung on him like a sweaty robe. The man had a fringe of unkempt dark hair and a scraggly beard. He leaned against the black Tahoe with the ease of someone out for a morning stroll. He caught Simon\u2019s eye and grinned, then made a gun of his hand and shot Simon.<\/p>\n

Welcome to Mexico.<\/p>\n

A hundred meters beyond the border, the screen to his iPod map went blank, then a single word appeared: searching. Simon did not care. He could see his destination up ahead. The city of Ojinaga hovered in the yellow dust. He crossed Highway 10, the east-west artery that ran from the Atlantic to the Pacific. He drove past an industrial zone carved from the surrounding desert, then joined the city traffic.<\/p>\n

Ojinaga grew up around him, a distinctly Mexican blend of poverty and high concrete walls. The city was pretty much as Vasquez had described. Simon\u2019s former professor had dearly loved his hometown. Vasquez had spent his final two years at MIT yearning to return. The mountains he had hiked as a boy rose to Simon\u2019s right, razor peaks that had never been softened by rain. Vasquez had bought a home where he could sit in his backyard and watch the sunset turn them into molten gold. But they looked very ominous to Simon. Like they barred his way forward. Hemming him in with careless brutality.<\/p>\n

Between the border and downtown, Simon checked his phone six times. Just as Vasquez had often complained, there was no connection. Landline phone service wasn\u2019t much bet- ter. Skype was impossible. Vasquez had maintained contact by e-mailing in the predawn hours. He had claimed to enjoy the isolation. Simon would have gone nuts.<\/p>\n

The last time they had spoken had been almost two weeks earlier, when Vasquez declared he was on the verge of a break- through. After months of frustrating dead ends, Vasquez had finally managed to make their apparatus work. Since then, Simon had received a series of increasingly frantic e-mails, imploring him to come to Mexico to present the device to the city council.<\/p>\n

What neither of them ever mentioned was the real reason why Vasquez had taken early retirement and returned to his hometown in the first place. Which was also the reason why Simon had made this trip at all. To apologize for the role he had played in the demise of Vasquez\u2019s career. That was something that had to be done face-to-face.<\/p>\n

Simon found a parking spot on the main plaza. Downtown Ojinaga was dominated by a massive central square, big as three football fields. Simon imagined it must have really been some- thing when it was first built. Now it held the same run-down air as the rest of the town. A huge Catholic church anchored the opposite side of the plaza. The trees and grass strips lining the square were parched and brown. Skinny dogs flitted about, snarling at one another. Drunks occupied the concrete benches. Old cars creaked and complained as they drove over topes, the speed bumps lining the roads. In a nearby shop-front window, two women made dough and fed it into a tortilla machine.<\/p>\n

The city office building looked ready for demolition. Several windows were cracked. Blinds hung at haphazard angles, giving the facade a sleepy expression. A bored policeman slumped in the shaded entrance. Simon entered just as the church bells tolled the hour.<\/p>\n

The guard ran his duffel back through the metal detector three times, while another officer pored over the letter from the city council. Finally they gestured him inside and pointed him down a long corridor.<\/p>\n

The door to the council meeting hall was closed. Simon heard voices inside. He debated knocking, but Vasquez had still not arrived. Simon visited the restroom and changed into a clean shirt. He stuffed his dirty one down under the apparatus. He shaved and combed his hair. His eyes looked like they had become imprinted with GPS road maps, so he dug out his eye- drops. Then he took a moment and inspected his reflection.<\/p>\n

Simon was tall enough that he had to stoop to fit his face in the mirror. His hair was brownish-blond and worn rakishly long, which went with his strong features and green eyes and pirate\u2019s grin. Only he wasn\u2019t smiling now. There was nothing he could do to repay Vasquez for what happened, except help him get the city\u2019s funding so they could complete the project. Then Simon would flee this poverty-stricken town and try to rebuild his own shattered life.<\/p>\n

He returned to the hall, settled onto a hard wooden bench, and pulled out his phone. For once, the phone registered a two- bar signal.<\/p>\n

Simon dialed Vasquez and listened to the phone ring. The linoleum floor by his feet was pitted with age. The hallway smelled slightly of cheap disinfectant and a woman\u2019s perfume. Sunlight spilled through tall windows at the end of the corridor, forming a backdrop of brilliance and impenetrable shadows.<\/p>\n

When the professor\u2019s voice mail answered, he said, \u201cIt\u2019s Simon again. I\u2019m here in the council building. Growing more desperate by the moment.\u201d The door beside him opened, and Simon turned away from the voices that spilled out. \u201cProfessor Vasquez, I really hope you\u2019re on your way, because\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cExcuse me, se\u00f1or. You are Simon Orwell, the professor\u2019s great friend?\u201d<\/p>\n

Simon shut his phone and rose to his feet. \u201cIs he here?\u201d<\/p>\n

The two men facing him could not have been more different. One was tall, not as tall as Simon, but he towered over most Mexicans. And handsome. And extremely well groomed. The other was the product of a hard life, stubby and tough as nails. The only thing they shared was a somber expression.<\/p>\n

Even before the elegant man said the words, Simon knew. \u201cI am very sorry to have to tell you, Se\u00f1or Simon. But Professor Vasquez is dead.\u201d \u201cNo, that\u2019s . . . What?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAllow me to introduce myself. Enrique Morales, I am the mayor of Ojinaga. And this is Pedro Marin, the assistant town manager and my trusted ally.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVasquez is dead?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA heart attack. Very sudden.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe thought the world of you, Se\u00f1or Simon.\u201d Pedro spoke remarkably clear English.<\/p>\n

The mayor was graceful even when expressing condolences. \u201cNos lamentanos mucho. We lament with you, Se\u00f1or Simon, in this dark hour.\u201d<\/p>\n

For some reason, Simon found it easier to focus upon the smaller man. \u201cYou knew the professor?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was a dear friend. My sister and I and Dr. Harold, per- haps you have heard of him? The professor was very close to us all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re sure about Vasquez?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSuch a tragedy.\u201d The mayor was around his midthirties and had a politician\u2019s desire to remain the center of attention. \u201cYou came all the way from Boston, is that not so? We are glad you made it safely. And we regret this news is here to greet you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI . . . we\u2019re scheduled to meet the city council.\u201d<\/p>\n

A look flashed between the two men. \u201cI believe they have completed their other business, yes? Pedro will escort you. I must hurry to the city\u2019s outskirts. We are dedicating a new water treatment facility. Long in coming. But so very needed. It is our attempt to aid the poorest citizens of our community. Like the professor\u2019s bold project, no? So very noble.\u201d<\/p>\n

Enrique was clearly adept at filling uncomfortable vacuums. \u201cPlease join me for dinner tonight. Yes? Splendid. We will meet and we will talk and I will see what I can do to assist you through this dark hour. The restaurant by the church. Nine o\u2019clock.\u201d<\/p>\n

Enrique turned and spoke a lightning-swift sentence to Pedro, whose nod of acceptance shaped a half bow. The mayor\u2019s footsteps clipped rapidly down the hall. He tossed quick greetings to several people as he departed, clapped the senior guard on the shoulder, thanked the second guard who opened the door for him, and was gone.<\/p>\n

Simon stared into the empty sunlight at the corridor\u2019s end, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow him whole.<\/p>\n

Then he realized Pedro was waiting for him. \u201cThis way, se\u00f1or. The council will see you now.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\"divider2\"
\nMY REVIEW:<\/strong><\/p>\n

Most movie companion books\u00a0 leave me a bit underwhelmed but when I saw that Unlimited<\/a> was written by Davis Bunn I was intrigued. I have never been disappointed by any novel written by this author and I have the utmost respect for his talent. I am happy to report that Unlimited<\/a> lived up to my high expectations.<\/p>\n

What I found in Unlimited<\/a> was a well blended story of suspense and political intrigue with a touch of science fiction, a subtle romance, some danger and adventure. The plot is well-paced and populated with remarkable characters who quickly made me care what happened to them. I enjoyed seeing the changes in Simon as he worked beside the others in the orphanage. Harold was an inspiration and Pedro, Sofia, and Juan were also wonderful examples. The theme of finding purpose in one’s life and depending on God’s help to achieve it came across strongly. I did suspect the primary villain before he was revealed but that did not detract in any way from my enjoyment.<\/p>\n

After reading Unlimited<\/a>, I find myself eager to view its companion movie. I hope it will come to my city.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8,60,33],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-15502","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books","category-contemporary-fiction","category-suspense"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15502","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=15502"}],"version-history":[{"count":12,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15502\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15516,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15502\/revisions\/15516"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=15502"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=15502"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=15502"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}