Except from my new novel The Courier

Since I am almost finished with the final corrections on my novel The Courier I decided to post some excerpts from it. This is 3,880 words of the first chapter. It ends with a cliffhanger.

I am not sure when I will be publishing the full novel but the way it is going now it will be in April. I have said this before but the corrections are going slow because they are tedious and I keep losing my place and have to spend time finding it. But since I am somewhat past half way I am starting to feel like I want to get it done so am spending more time on it and less on other writing and social media. I may end up doing four excerpts but three for sure. I will be publishing it on E-book and paper formats. And at the usual sites: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iTunes, Kobo, Smashwords etc. I am still looking into setting up my own site for the paper versions at least.

And I remind people that I have three novels already published. Two are in a Urban Fantasy series and one is a steampunk-special ops fusion. They are under L. E. Doggett and are at the usual sites, in paper and e-versions.

The novel is steampunk but set in our time. It is about a young woman who is a member of the Couriers. An organization of men and woman—even though there are mostly women couriers in this tale, it just worked out that way—who carry and deliver messages and hand held objects. That could be contracts, love letters, blueprints, gold, gems, parts, pictures, books and anything else that will fit in the special pouch they use. They have a reputation of delivering what they carry on time, if not early, no matter how far they have to go, or what obstacles they have to overcome-including gang members, robbers, ocean storms, dogs, and time. Kara Stronggear is one of them. And she will deliver what is entrusted to her no matter what, for she has a rep to build. She will become one of the better known couriers if she lives long enough to grow up.



Kara Stronggear ran around the corner of the high-rise office building. Steam cars and trucks rolled down the city street and the sidewalk up ahead looked half filled with people. A white steam bus with wide blue stripes went by, but she wouldn’t be able to catch it. The few people out and about got out of her way. The brown, denim-and-leather bag she carried gave away her occupation. Her short stature made it easier to whip around the slower ones.
A cool wind blew at her after she made the turn and made the few strands of her red hair outside of her cap flip around. A BMW steam bike roared by.
She had just passed a newspaper stand closed for the day and the smell of its fresh paint—for the first time in ten years—followed her. It mixed disagreeably with the odors from boilers: wood, oil, and coal fires and something else that a huge old steam truck burned that stunk and produced black smoke. She wouldn’t be surprised if the EPA went after that company soon.
Along the way she glanced at the theater and political posters stuck to the side of the building, as usual for New York they looked dark with grime. The many doors she passed invited her in but they might be locked and she didn’t want to take the chance that an office would turn into a trap. She had a rep to uphold, a bonus to earn and a baseball game to see after this delivery. The noise of the street vehicles echoed from the brick and steel buildings, but her hearing had adopted to it. She could pick out individual voices near her and still heard the footsteps of the person who chased her.
Maybe she should head for the new 911 memorial building. So many people there she could lose herself with ease. But no, too far away. That Baptist church nearby, had afternoon meetings for drug addicts and Celebrate Recovery, but she didn’t want to place those people in danger.
A white minivan with clear smoke that smelled of french fries almost jumped the curb when it hurried around another slower car. She glanced at it but it continued on. She spat, a very unladylike action, but the mixture of the paint and smoke produced a bad taste in her mouth. Her brown, with autumn red pockets, dungarees and leather shirt, with light read shoulders and pockets, would show people she wasn’t a lady anyway. Her shorter auburn hair lay mostly under a baseball cap snugged down tight. That made her scalp warm in this weather, but her whole body had to endure that. The cap's front panel showed her logo: a lightning bolt zipping down a city street. The bolt carried the same bag she did.
This time she had no idea what she carried in her reinforced bag. The pouch could carry more than ten red bricks. She knew that for once she had carried that many for a client. That job had taken a lot of her physically. She didn’t know who would want what she carried in it this time. If it contained cash or gems she could understand why, even if those contents were usually kept secret, which meant no one should know about it. But that knowledge could have gotten out. No one usually cared for contracts unless it involved industrial espionage or gangsters. The same went for plans and blueprints, or just plain letters. Unless it was some form of communication someone thought they could use for blackmail, no one cared. In her eighteen months of experience, and from advice from other couriers, she had learned that those who go after couriers hardly ever resorted to violence. The Mob might, but she had never had gangsters after her before. She might also be carrying evidence for a criminal case or secret government or military plans. The Mob could be after the first, but as far as she knew she hadn’t carried any secret papers or devices. That might be almost fun if she ever did.
The person who chased her now might be just interested in her. There were rapists around this city, after all. She thought of herself as attractive yet on the lower end of the pretty scale, with a pixie face to go with her light red hair. All of her walking, running and carrying, not to mention workouts, gave her figure a nice shape but that included muscles that most women didn’t carry. This guy might learn the same as two men, and a few assailants had. And experienced the unpleasant surprise of finding out how strong she was.
That brought up the memories of when she had been attacked on two of her recent jobs. By men who had wanted what she carried not her. That didn’t make any difference to her though, she had a good rep for getting what her clients wanted delivered on time and in one piece. She always made sure she kept that rep. One of the men had woken up in a steam ambulance while the other two had been run off even though they had knives. They had found out the hard way that she was armed in more ways than one.
That included her outfit which hid a steal underlay-a new type made stronger than ever. Chest, stomach and back armor covered her and her hat hid padded segments that would protect her head from most blows. She also carried a small three-shot pistol, two knives—one for throwing, which she hadn’t had to use so far—and two other weapons no one but her knew about. Not that her other weapons were common knowledge. Lastly three ball bearings of various sizes that were good to throw, marbles to drop on the ground in front of someone running, and a pocket full of long tacks for the same purpose but for anything with air tires.
She turned another corner and zipped through a space between buildings. Her steps echoed between the two buildings and the shade cooled her a little. A leap over some empty boxes got her on the far side fast. But the stinks here were so bad her body thought she could taste the mixture of rotten food, poo, decay and old paint.
The man hadn’t even slowed but by his footsteps she knew he still chased her. Kara wondered if she would have to resort to weapons. The father she barely knew had taught her the uses of a knife along with the marble and tack tricks. She picked up moves from two different boxers in training and she had taken courses from a teacher of eastern martial arts. An old Indian friend of her dad’s had showed her how to run long distances and how to hunt. The lessons had started when she reached ten years of age and had been living with relatives. Kara used lessons from the last to detect anyone hunting her. It had safeguarded her life once at least—before she had gotten the idea of this job—and saved the bag she carried twice. The padding and armor were her own ideas as had been her second knife. One long and thick enough to serve as a very short sword. On top of that a professional had shown her how to drive many types of land vehicles which included the multi-gear older trucks, and she knew the controls of some boats. She had picked up the basics for airship control. The large cargo and passenger ships needed more than one operator however but she thought she could pilot one if she ever needed to.
Kara dodged in and out of the walkers on the sidewalk—she hoped to lose her tail in the mix of clothing on this block. Workmen in blue denim, men and women in business suits and casual outfits, some women dressed in skimpy outfits that worked in a certain other type of business. The last were supposedly illegal in this city but the police usually left them alone unless they gathered together in a brothel or near a prominent building, church or school.
She aimed for a group of the last as she hoped their clothes would distract any man who followed her. She began to breath hard but a block later though she knew that last gambit hadn’t worked. He must be a pro or perhaps he was gay. It didn’t matter though. She weaved between a small mass of teens, through a group of nuns, turned right to cross the street, but as she passed around one very tall couple she made a sudden turn to the left into an alley. The darkness in it might throw off her tail if they had seen her flit down there. It smelled of urine, vomit, alcohol, decay and maybe old blood, but she heard no scuffles beyond rats. No breathing or snores either. The air cooled down, probably because the buildings on either side blocked the sun.
The rotten-food odors reminded her of the time she had had to eat some moldy bread and cheese to live, only a couple of years ago before her current career. Even now Kara appreciated she had left the meat alone. She had barely held down what she did eat, even though the old cheese hadn’t been too bad in its flavor. With a shake of her head she pushed those memories back where they belonged.
Kara studied her surroundings—shadows covered almost everything. Some light came from both alley mouths and from some widows two and three floors up. She didn’t know if those were tenants or offices. Offices might be easier to open up and climb into if needed. Some windows would be unlocked. Her dad and uncle taught her that. But she hadn’t wanted to make a living being a second-story man or cat burglar to work her way up to a top level all around crook like her dad.
Damn
That came so sudden she almost let it out. A scoff at the mouth of the alley she had come through warned her. She caught a slight movement there when she pivoted so quick she almost received an air burn on her cheeks. This guy knew his stuff. If he came from the Mob he was no ordinary gangster or hit man. From the government maybe—a special forces operative. If so, she would be dead.
Maybe she should give him the bag this time. She would more than likely be alive then even if she had to rebuild her rep. With slow steps Kara moved backward to the wall. The end of the alley proved to be a wall made of large, rough, cement blocks instead of the side of a building. The wall might lead to another alley or a parking lot. Either would be good.
Kara stood still, not only to make herself a harder target to find but also to listen. He would more than likely make a noise in an unfamiliar, dark space full of unseen objects just waiting to be bumped or stepped on. A nice cat’s tail would be good, or a trash can’s lid. They used bins now, but some habits die hard.
Damn, no sounds!
No deeper shadows, no breathing, no tiny movement of air caused by someone moving either. Either he was waiting for her to make a sound of her own or of that movement had been her imagination. That had happened once before, not long ago.
She breathed in as soft as possible through her nose: no extra odors. Not sweat, aftershave, hairspray, or other bodily smells. That last had let her know the position of one attacker a year ago and twice since. She had been out for a day of nature bonding when she had almost mistaken BO for animal droppings.
Now nothing. She hoped her body wouldn’t betray her, her own sweat at least might be tracked to her. And maybe she should start being careful what she ate the day before a run like this one.
How long could she stay in this position?
I am going to have to move one way or another soon.
A touch made further internal debate stopped, for it wasn’t needed anymore.
Minute vibrations through her bag alerted her. Something touched it. Her mind went through a series of possibilities: cat or rat? A huge spider? But she dismissed them almost as quick as they formed. It got to the only real answer in a heartbeat.
Damn, he’s even better than I thought.
He had moved without the slightest noise, or shadow and had found her. How? Kara asked herself as she pivoted, elbowed the guy with her left arm, and as she finished the turn, rammed the heel of her hand into the man’s chest—or that had been her plan. Her elbow hit something soft and hard but the heel of her hand just grazed a part of his torso. She pivoted outward and away but even as she settled two hands gripped her and a second later a knife edge found her throat. It just rested there, but her skin knew how sharp it was. Her sudden breath inward brought a whiff of her own fear-infused sweat. What felt like a hand moved along her bag; she knew the choice he had just given her. Her life for the bag. She breathed in again, and this time she tasted blood in the air. Her own? From her throat? Or maybe she had bit her lip again. It didn’t matter now. The choice did. It wouldn’t be a fair trade, for only one side would be permanent. Her rep would be gone, but as she had thought earlier she could remake it. Her life was another deal. Her eyes narrowed as did her lips. She willed her muscles to relax. She sighed even though she couldn’t say sure how much of it got out between her lips.
He seemed to be giving her time to think on it. She couldn’t stomp on his foot as much as she wanted to, as the motion might force her throat onto the blade and he would know that trick. His hand moved up the strap, stopped at the level of her chest. It moved over slightly. She couldn’t help it— she grunted, jerked, and smothered a snarl, before she realized he wasn’t copping a feel. The buckle for the strap lay against her body there. He probably didn’t mind his hand being there though.
Now her anger was up, even if he wasn’t manhandling her breast, she thought. He couldn’t see her face so wouldn’t know what the expression on her face meant. When her upper cheeks hardened, her nostrils flared and her mouth set in a certain way she knew. A tinkle suggested he had hold of the buckle and would be able to undo it even one handed.
A slow deep breath—she no longer could smell her own fear—and she waited.
The knife slipped very slightly but before she could react a memory of what her dad and Twoskunks each had said. In this situation it boiled down to wait more—it could be a fake. A second move of the knife hand—this could be a fake too but he almost had the buckle undone. Grabbing the hand would not do, as he had more strength than her. Kara could tell that by his hold. Being this close she could feel his strength and a few muscles. His warmth and build wormed its way into her thinking. She wanted to roll her eyes, but it did something for her feminine side. Now wasn’t the time to even feel that much less think about it and it went against her personal morals anyway. But his body felt like a good type of warmth, her face burned as if she were blushing, when she responded to his strength. Part of her feelings might be caused by the way his wrist rubbed her breast—not hard enough to bruise but still it created some friction.
Her mind back on her danger. Bite his wrist? Ready or not that would distract him. Might cause him to back hand her too through. She would have to take the chance. All she needed was a few seconds to get her other weapon into her hand. She tried a move for his eyes, but her fingers encountered something hard, smooth and glass-like.
A steam bike roared by outside the alley, it sounded like the rider rode on the sidewalk, headed in here, she thought perplexed and a tiny bit hopeful. They always made more noise than a steam car even with smaller boilers. The toot toot of a back-up steam horn sounded for seconds. She pulled in a slow breath through her nose. Got some of his scent along with her sweat. She rolled her eyes. No more distractions.
Kara let out a moan of pleasure that wasn’t all faked, and he paused as if thinking about what he just heard. She reacted by sliding away from the knife through the crook of his arm on that side. From the way his arm had rested she knew where that space would be. Her smaller size came in handy here. She brushed against his side and arm as she squeezed through that space. A smile crossed her face when she made it through before he could close his arm to trap her.
Once free she took a step to one side and spun around in a circle. In a second, even faster circle to gather speed, she lifted her right leg as far as possible as she came around the second time. She figured, hoped, that he would be facing her at this point. Her ankle connected with something hard with a flap. It moved. The sound of a body as it impacted the cement floor showed her that she had been correct in her aim—mostly. Her foot not her ankle should have hit his head. That joint now hurt, but she wouldn’t let it slow her. The pain reminded her of practice sessions. None of her teachers allowed her to stop because of pain.
To give her ankle time to recover and to do something unexpected, she drew her newest weapon. Slid a small knob on one side of it with her thumb. A very slight buzz sounded, she backed up, aimed to where the sound of the impact had come from, waited two heartbeats and then press a stud under it. A bright electrical bolt shot out. In the darkness the bright light dazzled her eyes, even through her closed lids. The hiss and very small electrical thump it made when it hit the cement revealed that she had missed. She backed up more, not caring about any noise she made for he knew where her location. Kara drew a breath in, breathed hard even as she moved. The air brought with it a tang of ozone. As she knew there would be.
Another three heartbeats and she moved to avoid whatever motions he made for her. A touch of air movement caused her to slide sideways, a darker man height mass in the darkness caused her to duck instinctively. She duckwalked three steps and stood. She knew he came for her. It hadn’t been quite long enough but Kara aimed the device in front of her and pressed the stud again even as she moved her arm. A less bright bolt shot out. She thought it moved slower—but that had to be her imagination. By the flash, she saw her bolt hit his side. He had to have slid that way when she aimed it. Too slow this time though. Again her vision clouded with stars and bright flashes, yet that didn’t interfere with the sound of a body impacting the cement a second time. The charge hadn’t been powerful enough to knock him out, but this time he should stay down at least long enough for her to climb that back wall.
A look around OH OH.
If I can find it again.
The darkness surrounded her, probably because her eyes had adjusted to the two bright strobes. A quick mental replay of their fight and she headed in one direction. The image of the area created by the electrical shock she supported her choice. There were no sounds except for those outside the alley. That included a siren. No way to know if someone had seen their fight and called the police. She didn’t want to talk to them anyway. Not only would that make her late but the electric stunner was illegal.
With her ears tuned to any sounds of the man getting up she hurried toward the wall. A solid bump on her nose that stopped her progress, revealed she had been closer than she thought. A short rub on the nose and a grunt was all the response she would give to the pain. React to it later; more lessons from her teachers but she had learned that one that hard way, too. The stink here also revealed where she as. An old, odor of urine strong enough for this to be a latrine for an army of homeless bums, she hoped—she hadn’t stepped in anything worse, but it hadn’t felt like it or smelled like it.
From around her waist Kara pulled out a small multi-pronged hook with a rough, very tough rope tied to it. She spun it then threw it upward. A clink followed. A heartbeat later by a second one on the alley floor. Another throw. She knew the height of the wall so she should be able to get this hook over it. The third try worked, she pulled on it to test how strong it stuck. It held so without further thought she started up. The wall was rough against the back of her hands and it tore her skin. The substance scraped her nose and one cheek when her body swayed, but she had known it that could happen. Sweat dripped into her mouth but she ignored the salty flavor it brought, as she couldn’t wipe her eyes or mouth.
Darkness showed above her and below. Some light behind her, but she climbed in shadows. It felt like she had been stuck there forever. Muscle strain began. She had to get up there before he caught her.
Just Darkness. Where am I? How much longer before I get to the top? If he gets me he will no doubt kill me and steal get my bag. I will have failed in this job, too. I can’t let that happen. Pain doesn’t matter, scraped skin isn’t important. My dad will know I failed for the rest of his time here, in the seconds I have to live I will know I failed. I want this life and this job-I need to do it!
She snarled and mouthed, “No! I have to get up there.”


end excerpt