The Wilco Project By Daniel Springer

Aug. 8, 2013 - PRLog -- "The Wilco Project" has been optioned for film by Villavision.

 

Author: Daniel Springer

 

Description:

When a phone call requesting his presence at a campus murder scene shatters Professor Steven Archer's Saturday morning, he has no idea how the tragic events of the next forty-eight hours will change his life forever.

The dot-com millionaire turned college professor rushes to the scene and is devastated to learn that the victim died playing a cell phone game he invented. When his project manager becomes the prime suspect, Steven is thrust into the complex murder case against his will.

After a second student is murdered, everything is at risk—the fate of his project manager, the lives of the college students and Steven's own career and reputation. Together with an old detective friend and a campus cub reporter, Steven must hunt down the killer using all of his expertise before he strikes again.

http://www.amazon.com/The-Wilco-Project-ebook/dp/B004BDP6U6/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1375983543&sr=8-1&keywords=the+wilco+project

Excerpt:

Prologue

 

 

Saturday, November 8 -- 12:07 A.M.

 

Not much farther. She quickened her pace using the intramural softball field's chain link fence to guide her to the woods directly beyond. The light over the equipment shed fifty feet behind did not reach this far, and the moon was new, little more than a sliver. With the tree line only a few strides away, she stopped, a shiver rippling through her body.

This is totally stupid. She knew an attractive female student should not wander alone in a remote corner of the campus—especially at midnight—but she had fought too hard to give up now. She swiped a forearm, prickly with goose bumps despite the muggy air, at the sweat droplets streaming down her face.

With trembling fingers, she pressed a key on her cell phone and studied its color display. The game screen glowed with a digital map of her immediate vicinity. The white icon positioned to her right on the map, just beyond the outfield fence, made her smile.

Good. No one figured it out and got here before me. This just might give me the power I need to win the game.

There were no red enemy icons on her screen.

Looks like no one is following me.

She rubbed the phone's display with her shirttail. I hope this damn thing works.

She held her breath and listened for sounds of other players in the area. Nothing. She exhaled.

Okay, move, girl. A few more feet of chain link and then the woods. That's where it is. You have to go into the woods to get it.

She reached the end of the fence, and a wave of panic overtook her, almost buckling her knees. Adrenaline surged into her bloodstream, her heart rate soaring. She dropped the phone and grabbed the fence post with both hands, holding on hard against the urge to turn and sprint back to the safety of the campus.

She took deep, even breaths and willed herself to calm.

Damn it—get a grip.

 She pried herself loose from the fence and flexed her aching fingers.

I guess I already had a pretty good grip.

Somehow, she managed a smile.

Squatting, she picked up the phone and brought it to eye level. Thumbing the button on the keypad again, she scanned the phone display. The map was still clear of enemy players. She wrinkled her nose at the stench of body odor and sniffed her armpit. She reeked.

Is this stupid game worth it?

She stood for a moment debating her question. Estimating she would have to go no more than thirty feet into the woods to grab the prize, she gnawed her lower lip.

 Yes, I've come this far, and I'm not turning back now.

She moved a dozen steps into the woods. Darkness forced her to navigate through the trees and sparse underbrush using the backlit display of her cell phone as a makeshift flashlight. She squatted next to the trunk of a large oak tree to rest and get her bearings. Surrounded on all sides by woods, it took a couple of seconds for her eyes to adjust. Twisting oak branches and spiky palmetto fronds, which moments before her panicked mind had identified as horrible monsters, focused into harmless trees and bushes. Her racing pulse eased, and she relaxed her grip on the phone.

This isn't so bad.

She inhaled several deep breaths, the pungent smells of the earth and trees filling her nostrils as she listened to the rhythmic chirping of the crickets. She sponged the sweat from her face with her shirtsleeve and chuckled.

Twenty-one and still afraid of the dark, sheesh.

Studying the electronic map on her phone's display, she determined that her current position placed her almost directly on top of the prize's white icon. She smiled.

Only a few more feet to go, and the prize is mine.

Ready to push on, she stood. Her head whipped around when she heard a noise, like something rustling the fronds of a nearby palmetto bush. Halting, she listened as a fresh batch of adrenaline exploded inside her. Silence. She rewound the tape in her mind and replayed the sound.

Yeah, she nodded, nothing to worry about, that sound came from deep in the woods.

Seconds ticked by as she replayed the sound again and again until she convinced herself she didn't know how far away the noise had occurred. She stood frozen for a minute, which seemed like hours, listening for further movements over the thundering sound of her beating heart.

Convinced a fallen branch must have caused the rustling, she keyed the cell phone and studied the map again to verify no other player had somehow managed to sneak up on her. The map still showed no enemy icons.

Damn it—stop acting like a paranoid wimp!

She drew in a deep breath.

This is just a silly game.

She exhaled and took a small step away from the tree, deeper into the woods toward the prize. Just before her foot touched the ground, a twig snapped behind her. Spinning around, she flinched as the vague outline of a human figure rushed toward her. 

Paralyzed, she tried to scream, but before the sound left her throat, the lunging figure clasped the back of her neck and clamped a gloved hand across her mouth. Arms flailing, she kicked backwards but failed to connect.

 The hand gripping her neck slipped down around her waist, pinning her arms and cinching her body tightly against her assailant. Not able to move or utter a sound, she was as helpless as a moth entangled in a spider's web. The more she struggled or tried to scream, the tighter her captor squeezed her close. After thirty seconds of unsuccessful thrashing and kicking, she fell limp with exhaustion, guttural sobs backing up in her throat. No longer able or willing to fight back, the realization hit her—the game was over and she would probably never leave the woods alive.