Showing posts with label L. E. Doggett. Show all posts
Showing posts with label L. E. Doggett. Show all posts

Saturday, June 20, 2020

Birthday Sale on all of my novels


Hello, Time for my yearly birthday sale. Monday June 22 is a special birthday for I have reached a milestone. 

Everyone of my E-books is a $1.11 off (No I am not a 111 years old. It isn't that milestone yet  ) 

And all of my paper novels are two dollars off-except for one which they only allowed me to reduce 1.44 . They will be on sale until June 27.

Whatever the price they are fun reads with adventure, mysteries, suspense and action. Western short stories, Urban Fantasy, steampunk, Science Fiction adventure. 

Here is my Amazon author's page https://www.amazon.com/L-E-Doggett/e/B01C58R1II…

and https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/%22L.%20E.%20Doggett%22…


Saturday, August 3, 2019

New set of free tiny tales #saturdayscene Aug 2


         #saturdayscene  Aug 3


     Got busy and forgot last week, almost forgot again even though I planned to do this one so this is late but still Saturday my time.  

Another repeat which maybe one or two people here have probably read before. I have a cluster of seven stories here but all are shorter flash and mini tales. From 25 words to 607 words for a total of 1887 words. The mini stories were attempts to place or win in one of the onthepremises mini story contests. “Blue of Home” has been the only one to receive even an honorable mention so far. The longer ones were all based on pictures. All have been revised at least once.  That includes the mini stories that have been lengthened in a couple of cases. About three years ago I decided I like doing these mini stories and even the longer flash. I will be putting out an anthology with 20 to 24 stories. Most will be these very short tales but there will be another anthology with longer 650 to 3750 word stories. I just need two covers and to revise some of the longer ones. 

   These are a variety of genres: fantasy, general fiction, science fiction, historical with a touch of fantasy and one that could be a couple of different genres including steampunk, fantasy and general fiction. 

The first one is “Blue of Home” written on the premise of “Write a story no longer than 50 words that describes color in an innovative way. (No “black as night” clichés; etc.)” The last one will be “Good Work with Thread” the story that could be one of a couple different genre. The others are mixed up.

 Blue of Home 
                                                     

      The viewscreen showed a microscopic blue-Ben stared. The right blue, produced by life. The trip out  had taken too long. He’d seen red suns, green nebalue, black holes--from a distance. None looked this perfect, a blue made from air and water. Ben smiled, the blue of home grew.   


Ohh, no. Not Another One!

Ohhh no, not again-another one of those quests, the wizard thought, and it’s going to be long-again. Even as his friend the warrior, who would be king, cheered and challenged the four man team to see who would be first on those giant, wide steps. After  they became solid enough and moved in a touch closer, of course. The warrior’s cape still bellowed out even though the bottom was in tatters. His sword, though, was still sharp, undinged and whole. 
   
    The new steps had just appeared from nowhere while the team stood at the end of wide path that had led to two man height pillars on the edge of this path. They each had rounded tops and a hole one could reach through at their tops. A person could almost fit their whole head through the holes. The wizard had reached it first and waited for the others. 

      At least here we could breath okay even though the air had a different flavor to it; thorny and mulchy and old, he thought. 
      
      The rest of the path just appeared with no flash or sound. The wizard  could hear everyone’s steps and each one’s breathing, plus the warrior’s boosts, so there was sound here, but nothing when it came to be. It had taken him seconds to realize it was there. He assumed it had been the same for the others since they hadn’t said anything. 

      It looked like another ten minutes of walking would lead us to the doorway. Tall and it looked more like a cave entrance with a bright light inside. And what might be another two pillars. 
    
     They only had a basic idea of where it would take them. But it would be tough, scary, and they would have to use their strengths to the uttermost and to think hard, to get back to their lands. The wizard sighed. 
    
      The whole trip up he had wondered what beings needed a path this wide and steep. Fantastic torches set in the soil lined and lit one side all the way up. They seemed to be ever burning. What looked like giant thorns grew around the edges of the trail and along on the steps. It made it look like both sections belonged together. At the end of the short flight of steps   
  
    Everything had huge thorns here more than that TV show a while back. But the Wizard looked at the dwarf who was ready to go with the challenge even though he usually lost. The other guy just sort of stood there waiting, he went along with whatever happened without much compliant. His thick staff, or long club, came it handy. He could swing it fast and hard, plus his speed was enough to move out of the way of incoming swings.  

  But at just the right moment, when the three leaned forward and bunched their muscles for a jump, the Wizard stepped over the space and stood on the new steps while the others jumped. They each stared at him, incredulous showing. 

      He said, "If we are going, lets get going and get this one over with.”

end


Traveled

Joseph sat on the wood bench near where the train would stop. It looked like rain, which meant less people. He liked that idea, for that meant less people to see him.
       The sudden steam whistle made known his need to stand. He sighed, but put out the effort. After he boarded he could sit on the train all of the way home. He would practice with his new artificial legs at his parents’ house.


Brightest Night

The two surviving Three Domes were full of people. Every room had lights on that showed that. No one knew why the first one had been tipped over in that huge storm during the earthquake, 88 years ago, while the others stood. But the one piece structure had shattered when it hit the side of the rock rise it had been built on. Scavengers had taken a lot of the material; some had been used to enlarge Dome Three.
       Plus no one knew why the three large and two small domes had been built, centuries ago, on consecutive rises. For this purpose? To see and celebrate the brightest night of the year-and this one would the brightest in the years. To be used as way stations when people had to travel by horseback and on foot? The land here was cold and very rough. It had the end of a forest and the beginning of a very rough and cold mountain chain together after all. So a rest stop would have been good.
      It didn’t really matter though, for we were here to party. These were now used to show us the brightest night without light pollution, or cars driving by interfering. Very soon the lights here would become superfluous when the bright sky turned even brighter. We would shout, bang our feet and enjoy the beauty and rarity of the sight. 

end  



Tenth

Jimmy readied himself for bed, thought of a higher power, smiled. 
             Today is the tenth, so ten complete days without it.
             He had thought he would fail, but now he let pride fill him. 
             Even though he still wanted it, hope blossomed.
            Now, I know I can do this.



Last Viking 


The Viking looked over the side of his ship. The mountains rose out of the ocean, higher than he would want to climb anymore. The day looked cloudy and cold even though he was viking and therefore used to cold. While not as deep as in some places the water here was still deep enough to hide monsters, or even an angry whale. 
   Askell glanced along his longship. The wood looked aged, it had nicks, claw marks, and blacken areas. That last fire they barely got out in time. He supposed he could get one of the new style of ships with multiple masts but he, and his crew, were too old to change that much. 
   He stroked his grey beard, looked down. 
   "To port now!” He shouted
   Something scraped the hull as the longship turned too slowly. 
   So this ocean was not deep, those rocks were hard to see. Movement under the water, Oh oh, something huge lived down there. 
   It neared the surface and before he could cry out for them to raise oars, three of them hit it. It thrashed, caused water to splash into the longboat. Cold water that soaked their footwear. The oars didn’t break, thank Odin.
    He snarled, spat bile out. Nothing would sink them in this cruise.
     Once the water settled again he ordered them to head for the distant bit of land. It had what looked like a strip of land they could beach the longship. Further in lay the base of a tall cliff They might be able to build housing right next to the cliff and have fish, birds and seals and maybe even smaller whales to eating and to use for tools and clothes. 
   He looked around. No one would be chasing them this far, but if they did they would pay for that with their blood, for his crew still kept their weapons sharp.
   Askell double checked the depth and for any other movements. He would have to be on his toes to make sure nothing else hindered them.      

end



Good Work With Thread


        He sighed. He leaned back in his slightly stuffed chair-dirty gray after all these years. It was warm in here again. Too cold in the summer, too hot in the winter, even though just right in fall and spring. That meant winter existed outside. When he finished this grand design he would have to take a break and check it out. He liked the rain and fog. 
       A moment later when he took a second to watch the hundred and eleven threads come his way he realized something else. The cotton threads smelled of mildew. Only a wee bit, but enough for his nose to notice. The buyers wouldn’t. But it confirmed his idea of the season of the year. Tiny amounts of mildew only formed when it got hot after the threads got wet. It rained outside so they would get wet while they were brought in here, but then they would dry in the heat inside. And soon it may get in his mouth because very tiny amounts of mildew stayed on his hands. It built up after a while and would get on his tongue when he brushed his lips. 
      His hands played back and forth along his loom. He decided on which colors and which types of fabric joined the others to form the pattern he wanted. He liked the pure gold and silver threads he used at times. The bright colors were a nice break in the same colors most customers wanted. They felt more metallic too-a good change now and then. 
         The rattle the loom made was a subconscious song to him. Most of the time it went on without his mind paying attention. However if it sounded an off note he would know instantly. It had three weeks ago and he had gotten behind while it had been fixed. Now he was almost caught up with all of the orders. There would be always more for his work was excellent.   
      It hadn’t always been of course but over the long years he had gotten used to the old grey, stone walls behind him, the changes in the temperature and smooth wood on the loom. Even the strange way the many almost microscopic fibers in the air he breathed in changed the taste of his lunches. It didn’t matter what he brought with him, it always had a different flavor than at home. Except the once he had to use an oxygen tank for a few weeks because of a lung infection. He had been so glad to stop carrying that tank around, but he missed it at times during lunch. 
     He had been afraid he would die, perhaps falling over onto an unfinished project. Part of him wouldn’t have cared, this job had gotten boring. But they had cured him and now he again enjoyed the way the threads played over his hands and into the loom, forming the design he wanted. Afterwards he had taken chances with intricate motifs. Those he enjoyed the most and seeing, or reading, a customer express joy was worth the extra trouble. 
    The weather had become more enjoyable too. He didn’t use to like fog but now he did. 
     He paused to use a handkerchief to wipe perspiration from his forehead-to make sure he didn’t get any sweat on his project or in his eyes. Too much heat in the winter was still a pain though.  
      After many minutes, he smiled at the design that formed: a beautiful star field with golds, slivers, bright reads and some yellows. Yeah, this one would be great and worth the heat. 

end


Hope you enjoyed them and make a comment or two.





#fantasy #sciencefiction #history #steampunk #generalfiction #contests #freestories #freebies #shortstories #amwriting #blue #indie #saturdayscenes 

Saturday, July 20, 2019

SaturdayScenes July 20 Four tales elsewhere



           #saturdayscene  July 20 ’19 

I am cheating a bit on this SaturdayScene and doing a repeat from last Aug. Which is why I added the year to the date. Most everyone who does read these most probably has not seen these already. If so please excuse the repeat. This set of four flash tales take place in other places. The first is Africa, second is somewhere around Norway and the North Pole, third is Africa too-a different part and time than the first story, and last Japan. You probably have seen a longer version of the viking story but still there other I don’t recall posting here before. As I implied before if I am wrong excuse me.   But do not forget my novels for sell, four great adventures, fun to read.  

So without further adeu here is story one:


The Tower
           The boy and girl, tall and lanky, even though in their early teens, walked toward the end of the hills. For now they were called Esiankiki and Loiyan, but that would change as they grew. 
     Both felt not right for the mountains they were leaving were strange to them. Not at all like the Savanna. They feet ached from the hard rough surfaces they had walked on. 
     They stood the beginning of one side of the part of the Savanna where they came from. The trees they knew still grew here and some of the animals they killed or competed with came here too. The air felt warm as it should. The scents of grass, the droppings of lions, and desert air all grew as they walked closer to the natural border. Loiyan thought he heard the cough of a lion far in the distance, but little of any other sounds. 
      It would be good to get back to the foods they knew, bread made from the grains they had grown with.
     Before going home though both had wanted to see the Tower. It looked manmade shape under many and many years of grime, but very few stories passed down to the next generation told of it. No one knew when it had been built or why. To worship the Red god or the Black one maybe. Loiyan thought it was something the evil Red god would like. Esiankiki wasn’t sure. It had different levels, each one with what looked like walls that swooped up to a sharp point. The oi-boni had never restricted the Masai from going there but he had given warnings, as far as they knew no one had climbed to the top-fear maybe or that it was just different?
      Both had some honey to eat so they did not worry about food. Water might be a problem later. It took them two hours or more to get to the tower. Up close it looked both man made and natural. Neither knew how that could be but each agreed on that.
     Loiyan placed the palm of his hand on it: rough like the huge rocks they had just climbed over but warm. Esiankiki placed her ear to it. She thought she heard something but so faint she couldn’t be sure: she said that she didn’t like the roughness against her ear’s skin. She pulled Loiyan back when he wanted to taste it with his tongue. Too rough for that she said. 
     Around the other side they saw a way in, or up. What could be very old steps, worn smooth by feet and weather. With very careful steps they went up. The first level had a place to walk but they couldn’t see over the edge of the wall even as tall as they were. The same with the second level. As far as they could find there was no way in, and no places to sacrifice offerings mixed with grass. Maybe that was on the top. But once they reached as far as they could go still nothing. The inside of the walls looked and felt smooth. The bottom had smelled of age and something neither one liked. But up here only air. They saw lions and tall grass further on, for the walls had grown shorter on the way up.
     No blacken areas with very old ash so no sacrifices up here either. So what was this used for? To watch the lions, to see if any enemies were coming? The People did sometimes fight. 
    They examed the walls carefully for long minutes. Loiyan found lines in the inner wall like a doorway, The People used curtains over doorways, but they knew others had wood and metal doors, some with metal and what was called glass. They both had been to cities, ridden in cars and a train. They had seen a helicopter land. That had been noisy, worse than a very large pride of lions Loiyan had been trapped in when very small. All of the beasts roaring at once had deafen him. The helicopter’s noise had been louder than a big rain storm with lightning and thunder. But if this was a door he nor Esiankiki had seen any way to open it. He tried to slide his fingernails into the cracks but something stopped them. Esiankiki noticed the indentations near waist level on one level, but they didn’t seem to do anything. Loiyan who had the hearing of a warrior thought he heard clicks from inside when he pressed then indentations, but nothing happened. Both felt tiny vibrations in the door but they did nothing. Esiankiki thought she tasted in the air something like what flavors the air when lightning strikes. The space in-between the lines grew warmer but only a little. That made no sense. 
    After a while they gave up and walked down. Back at the bottom they saw more lines in the tower but they were shaped wrong for a doorway for any person. And they all went into the ground. So they knew the Tower went deeper like a huge rock. These doors looked like something that slid out maybe. Esiankiki stated that she wasn’t sure why she thought of that. Loiyan thought it would be something larger than a hut if so. With a final shrug-that the People had picked up from the shorter white visitors-they left and finally headed home. The People or someone else had lived in the Tower many many ages ago, they were now sure of but who? And how did they get the doors to open? They would never know. Maybe The People had climbed those steps and but they came away with more questions that could not be answered so they either forgot them or decided not to bother others with unanswerable questions.  Maybe when Loiyan became a warrior he would ask and come back with others who knew more than he did. For now though they would just go home, it had been too long since they had seen family. 

end


The Last Viking

The Viking looked over the side of his ship. The mountains rose out of the ocean, higher than he would want to climb anymore. The day looked cloudy and cold even though he was viking and therefore used to cold. While not as deep as in some places the water here was still deep enough to hide monsters, or even an angry whale. 
   Askell glanced along his longship. The wood looked aged, it had nicks, claw marks, and blacken areas. That last fire they barely got out in time. He supposed he could get one of the new style of ships with multiple masts but he, and his crew, were too old to change that much. 
   He stroked his grey beard, looked down. 
   "To port now!” He shouted
   Something scraped the hull as the longship turned too slowly. 
   So this ocean was not deep, those rocks were hard to see. Movement under the water, Oh oh, something huge lived down there. 
   It neared the surface and before he could cry out for them to raise oars, three of them hit it. It thrashed, caused water to splash into the longboat. Cold water that soaked their footwear. The oars didn’t break, thank Odin.
    He snarled, spat bile out. Nothing would sink them in this cruise.
     Once the water settled again he ordered them to head for the distant bit of land. It had what looked like a strip of land they could beach the longship. Further in lay the base of a tall cliff They might be able to build housing right next to the cliff and have fish, birds and seals and maybe even smaller whales to eating and to use for tools and clothes. 
   He looked around. No one would be chasing them this far, but if they did they would pay for that with their blood, for his crew still kept their weapons sharp.
   Askell double checked the depth and for any other movements. He would have to be on his toes to make sure nothing else hindered them.      

end


Congratulations 


      Jacob snarled, he wouldn’t let them smash him into the mud. He shoved against one man the same age as himself. That worthy went “ufff” as another two bodies jumped on top of the others. Some of them let out exclamations too. His lighter brown skin could easily be identified among their black skin. They all were from around here while he came from somewhere different.
     He twisted his body one way then another, kept his legs moving so they couldn’t be grabbed. He sneezed: someone wore an awful cologne. Probably Kensu. 
    Someone used both hands to shove him harder, forced his face toward the mud patch on the parade ground. The whole area was plain dirt, not even grass. Mud holes were not rare even though most of it was dry dirt. Light metal bleachers filled one side. But they would be of no advantage to Jacob, nor would the various light and speaker poles around the area.
    Jacob surged his back upward to flip off whoever was on his back. It didn’t work. He thought it was time to start punching and jabbing. A second thought, no one used fists, hands or feet as weapons. They all depended on brute strength, and their weight, to get his face into the mud. 
    Their grunts and heavy breathing filled his ears, but no name calling or obcentaites, which surprised him. He managed to get his feet and hands on the ground: one hand and knee splashed the mud around. He shoved upward and managed to stand as his attackers fell off. However his victory lasted one-second for someone tackled him and rolled with him toward the mud. Kerrich, he thought for. Sweat matted his hair, the clothes of those that touched him were clammy with it. He spat out the mud in his mouth-at least they used fresh water and mostly clean dirt.
    Again he tried to get his hands under him so he could shove off the ground, but two more joined in the, what was still called, a dog pile. His face inched closer to the mud. No! These guys weighed a lot even though he had proven himself the better, stronger fighter. 
    With a snarl he surged upward, but only moved an inch, more poundage landed on him. He could smell the mud, at least it seemed to be just water and dirt. Before he could take a breath his face smashed down into the mud. It filled his mouth when he breathed in, splashed up his cheeks, got in his ears and hair. A roar of victory followed that and with a suddenness that surprised him all of the weight vanished. 
    He jumped up, turned to face them. Eight young men stood in badly formed semi-circle. Their formation instructor would not be happy with that a part of his mind said.
    Half of them looked unsure, would he attack them?  
    The leader stepped forward but only so close. 
    He said, “Congratulations, you will be the first cadet to become Captain.”
    Jacob blinked, they knew that? 
   “We honor you with our traditions.”
   He nodded, for he knew of this one where they congratulated another cadet to raise in rank, but never expected to have it done to him. They had never really excepted him. 
   He spat though, to get the taste of the mud out of his mouth.
   Jon-Wel said, “The commissary has a new batch of Mars Malt beer. You can wash out your mouth with a bottle. I will buy the first one.”
   Jacob didn’t know if that was part of the tradition or because Jacob didn’t usually have much money unlike them. But…
   He smiled, “I would be happy to wash the mud out that way,”
  Some of the men looked relieved. 
  The leader nodded and motioned toward the store. 
  Jacob thought, He may never be one of them, but he had their respect and well wishes, that was good.    

end

            
The Way Stop Castle


Jounn turned in his saddle to face his friend Brock. He felt glad they had stopped. The horses hoofs had been stirring the sand dust. It made his mouth dry when he breathed it in, not to mention making him cough.
          “There is the castle I told you about.”
          After he spoke he looked back down from the small dune they both had stopped on. Night covered the desert which is what they wanted. It cooled quickly here after the sun went down. But the dark made it better not to be seen.
           The castle, a ruled by a neutral Duke far from England, sat on a hill. The neutrality though will probably have to change to one or the other roses, he thought. The structure looked gray tall and narrow with a full moon behind it. A village in front of it. Guards walked the wall. The gate looked still open even this late.
           Brock said, “That wall, most be a good ten feet hight and what? Three feet thick. It would hold an army for a while. If one came here at all.” 
           “I am not fearful of armies, but of sudden changes of neutral Dukes. Or of an assassin.”
          “You think they would really send one after us?”
          Jounn shrugged, “They have done it before. During the last bit of fighting, which I can barely recall, my cousin was challenged to a duel by someone who turned out to be en expert swordsman. After the duel the man disappeared but left a rose. I have heard of that all my life with warnings to be watchful.” 
          “But if you don’t trust the Duke, why stay here?”
          “We are not staying here. We present ourselves and the Duke gives us a suite of rooms. He knows me so will not think it strange that I would come here. We say we need to mediate over the conflict so we need to stay in the rooms without being disturbed. Once settled we change to less conspicuous clothes, bathe and be rid of traveling odors then head down to the stables. In my last two visits I learned that there is a back gate through the wall. It is small but a horse can get through. We get our horses and leave that way. Even if a guard sees us and if he should report it the Duke would be still able to say that he gave us rooms and then we left without even a proper thank you or good bye. That he knows not when, or where we went. Or even if we left the castle. We could be hiding among the vassals and others that live here.”
          “Do you think that will work?”
          “I believe it will, but we still need to be on our toes and watch. We will be able to get supplies for a long trek through the desert, but we hide our trail and head South, which might further confuse anyone that is sent after us.”
         “Well, that plan is better than no plan, or just running.”
        “As I said we will watch and keep our hands close to our swords and daggers. If he portrays us we will sell our lives dearly. If he is still neutral than we go as I said and leave him with an excuse.”
         His friend nodded and said, “Than we should make sure we have no roses on us then he can say he did not realize we had chosen sides.”
         Jounn nodded, picked off a brooch off of his chest, while his friend ripped off a fastener on his cloak, and started his horse down the dune. 

end 
    
Way of the Samurai 

      “You are late.”
    “I know, Father, I have no excuse,” even though I did-saying good bye and finding my round hat had not been easy. I had tied my waist long hair into one braid. My long dress would be help against the cold. I wore a lighter outfit under it, if it warmed. I suspect that my Father had on something under his armor. His helmet with the grimace face hid his face as it should. He wore his two favorite swords and I am sure a third. He stood between the posts of the gate as the sun sank. He looked magnificent.  
     He grunted and nodded once. 
     Our road led between two tall strands of bamboo over a rough surface. No one had come this way in years so they had not kept it up. The wind blew leaves around.
    Father was a hard man, but a tough, experienced, brave and honorable warrior. He showed his love in training me well so I would be able to defend myself and in teaching me honor. I have only the one sword though. I am not a Samurai so can not wear the armor but I am not sure I would want to.
     The air smelled strongly of bamboo and growing things. Maybe we should take some of the shoots to eat later, but Father is ready to leave now. 
     I sighted, I have already defended myself. That group of three thieves had shown surprise when their heads rolled to the ground. The last one had been a fair fighter-he lasted five swings. And months later, the first man I had killed for trying to dishonor me-he had been someone important. Later when questioned Father acted like he didn’t know who had killed him. 
     Now we go-to somewhere else. He has not told me where but I trust him. Maybe it was to protect me, or because he was tired of this place and just wanted to go to some place new, or he knew of something bad coming to this area soon. He would train me more in the way of the Samurai as we go. Maybe I would be able to make my own armor by the times we get there-if I decided to wear some.
    I am glad I had brought two skins of water and two bags of nuts and cooked rice, they would last if we found nothing else to eat later and didn’t collect the shoots here.  He would have something on under his armor too. 
    I kept my eyes on him and did not turn for one last look. 

end




Saturday, February 24, 2018

Second excerpt of my novel The Courier

Feb 24 Aaannddd it’s the last weekend of February already.

This is the second excerpt of The Courier even though I split it into three. This whole scene is way too long for SaturdayScenes so I am only showing-off a 2,884 word section from chapter four.

Right now I am aiming for the last week of March for publication. That will depend on different details though. I may be able to say a closer date next week.




Enjoy:


She had been in New Orleans twice before but they had been quick in-and-out runs.
A quick glance out one of the main windows showed her older brick-and-stone buildings that were shorter than the ones in New York. There were some skyscrapers but not in this part of the city. She could see few people as they walked on the sidewalks and the streets here. Many steamcars rolled along. A few buses and trucks too. Of course the city had several districts, and not all were restaurants and night clubs. She did have a list, gotten from other couriers, of what were supposed to be great eating establishments and most were not in the French Quarter. Two would be hard to find but they had great Cajun food while another one had a terrific crayfish, but first she had something to deliver and a response to get. Then she would see how much time she had to go searching for good food. A late-night train ran to New York even though it made one stop where she would have to switch trains.
When one vehicle puffed up to the curb she thought, Good they have cabs here. That would make the trip to the water front easier and faster.
She picked up her gym bag—she already wore her backpack—and headed out the door to fresher air.
Once out, through she coughed. So much for cleaner smelling air. This air contained various types of steam.
More accurately it was what they burned that produced the steam that varied.
Cigar odors joined in with that and, she tilted her head, food smells. There had to be someplace cooking up a storm close by.
Kara decided she could walk a bit to find a driver who might charge her less and who wouldn’t try to take her somewhere else—like a club. So she walked five blocks, and found what appeared to be an empty cab. She looked inside and saw a black man who she assumed was the driver lying on the front seat with his eyes closed. He looked only a little older than herself so he might be a college student, or someone just married who had two jobs. Just like some cabbies in other cities who took naps between fares. Or,… She took a closer look. No blood so probably not a victim of crime or a Mob fight.
She tapped on the driver’s window until the driver’s eyes opened. He looked startled but recovered quickly. He rolled down the window and said,
“You need a cab? And please excuse me I must have fallen asleep while waiting.”
“Yes, I do need a cab; and don’t worry about that, it is early still.”
She got in the back seat and told him the port she needed to get to.
“You taking a small boat out for a run?”
She nodded because he had looked at her in his rearview mirror. The thought came to her that he could be a upcoming jazz musician, who had played late last night but now had to do his day work.
He shifted his eyes to the front, put the car into gear and they lurched forward in a belch of steam she could see out of the back window.
“Sorry about that, but this cab sometimes does that at startup.”
She said, “I understand.”
The cab had looked newer and kept up, but even a steamer in good condition could develop bad reactions.
Over half an hour later he rolled through what could be a small courtyard and pulled up to the parking lot of a certain long one-story building. It looked like it had six storefronts. One other building the same size as the one he parked in front of, graced a side of the courtyard. She paid the driver and gave him an eleven-dollar tip. After she got out he asked if she wanted him to stay around. The day had warmed and she didn’t want to lug her stuff around but she would have to.
Kara said, “You can, but I don’t how long this boat trip will take. Could be three hours or more. So if you get another fare you should take it. But if you’re here I will have you take me back.”
He nodded and she headed for one of the offices in the long building up close to the water. A cool wind like the beginning of a weather front picked up during her walk but it wasn’t bad. The area smelled of the sea and fish as well as the boilers from the cars, trucks and the building itself. It became obvious that some of the fish were rotten even though that odor was faint. She got out some gum with one of the new intense mint flavors. Once she started to chew she almost smiled. Much better. She heard a faint sound that she took to be the ocean, or gulf in this case.
Kara found the correct door and went in.

————————————-

Forty-five minutes later they neared a platform that stuck out of the water on four legs. She made out two cranes, one of which seemed to move. As they neared it she could tell that each leg looked thicker than a steamtaxi. She wondered how they had planted them in the ocean floor. At this point she could now make out structures on the platform. Two tiny fires burned in different parts of the oil derrick. Electric lights lit up other areas.
Mr. Johnson aimed for a metal ladder that looked welded to one leg. A very small platform sat there along with another two up higher. The ladder led to each one and then to the main one. A man on the larger platform saw them and headed down the ladder.
“I wasn’t able to contact them to say we were coming, but they get unexpected visitors almost every day,” Mr. Johnson said.
Kara nodded.
Mr. Johnson tried two ropes to rings set in the leg.
The man coming down the ladder stopped and shouted, “Who are you?”
Kara raised her voice, “A courier with a message for your OIM and a one for a hydraulic mechanic.”
“Good, we were told to expect a courier. Come on up.”
She looked at the ladder, gave herself a little shrug and grabbed a rung. She went up easily even though the rungs were wet from sea water. Mr. Johnson followed. He looked like he had experience climbing these ladders.
Once up on the platform itself she looked around.
WOW!
She could see for miles. It looked like mostly water with a few ships in the distance. But she wanted to stay and look.
Up here she could still smell the sea but an odor of burnt oil invaded her sinuses also. Flashes of light showed where men welded and she could see other men carrying pieces of metal, or wrestling machinery into place. An occasional cuss word could be heard as well as sounds of metal against metal and the unique hiss of welding. And she heard something about boiling a certain part of a certain man in the main boiler. Three men in scuba gear walked by, headed inside, it looked like. The wind ripped over the structure. She felt it through her outfit. Mr. Johnson looked cold too. Most of the men were dressed in warm clothing.
The man that met them led them to one of the higher structures, and up a stairway that clanged with their footsteps. She wanted to spit because oil in the air got in her mouth when she breathed in. But she wasn’t sure how they would take it.
Once inside the man led them down a hallway. Or is that “passageway”? she thought. No wind in here, so it was warmed. Everything was metal even though an attempt had been made to make it look like an office building on land. He continued to what looked like an office: carpet on the floor, cushioned chairs, a clock on a desk, artwork on walls. A man sat behind a desk. It smelled a little of cleaners, cigars and cologne.
“Mr. Dampfgang? A courier has a delivery for you.”
The man in a black turtleneck looked up from a piece of paper. He took them all in at a glance Kara saw.
He said, “Good, I was expecting something today. Thank you for showing them in.”
The man must have taken that as a dismissal for he left. Mr. Dampfgang motioned them in. He greeted Mr. Johnson, looked at Kara and said, “Good, you arrived early. Ms…?”
“Kara. As you probably know, I have something for you to read, and I was told to wait for a response.”
The manager nodded. “In that case let me have what I am to read.”
Kara stepped to the desk. Even through her boots the carpet felt thicker than she expected and it seemed to be warmer than the metal floor. That last had to be just in her mind. She wore her work boots for one reason.
She took off her pouch and placed it on the desk. She found the correct folder and gave it to Mr. Dampfgang.
Kara said, “I have one more delivery here,”—he looked up with surprise on his face, “for a John Kilgood. One of the junior hydraulic mechanics.”
“I know him.” He paused than shouted, “Greg!” A man in coveralls looked in. “Go get John Kilgood. Tell him he has a message.”
The man said, “Yes sir,” and took off.
“I can read this and maybe have a response before he gets here.”
Kara said, “Sounds good.”
She stood there while Mr. Dampfgang read. Mr. Johnson had whispered that he had something to do and would be back in a couple of minutes. After what may have been ten minutes Greg came back with another man. This one wore greasy coveralls. The new guy looked twenty-three and in good shape with short blond hair.
Kara stood and said, “Are you John Kilgood, married to Aurore Kilgood?”
“I am John Kilgood and I am married to Aurore,” he said with a worried frown. He spoke with a Scottish accent which changed the pronunciation of Kilgood.
Kara reached into her pouch and drew out a thick, large brown envelope and handed it to Kilgood.
He took it from her with worry still in his eyes. He opened it and pulled out what looked like a handwritten letter. He read and his expression changed to a different type of worry, and then they lit up and he broke into a large smile.
John looked up and said in an almost shout, “I’m a father! My wife had a baby boy. It was a month early, but she says everyone is fine and healthy.”
He reached into the envelope again and withdraw a bunch of what looked like photographs. John went through them and said, “Here are pictures of my new baby.”
With a proud look, he showed them to Kara. “Here’s the baby, here’s my beautiful wife, the doctor, and others holding my son.”
She thought the wife might be a little embarrassed that he had showed pictures of her breast feeding, but then again maybe not. Kara brought out a form and asked him to sign it, just to say he received the package and that it was in good shape. He did with a thanks to her.
“I only charged your wife the basic price without expenses, since I had another run out here anyway.”
She had thought about giving them a further discount but John made good money even on the lower end of the pay scale here.
He smiled at her in gratitude, but went back to showing the pictures around.
—————————————

A blast of light and sound showed that lighting had struck too close. She hoped that Mr. Johnson knew the way to his dock, as she couldn’t tell where they were. But she decided it would be better to not distract him to by asking.
She spat out more water and breathed in more. Ozone had built enough to smell and taste it, even as the rain washed it away. Her clothes were very uncomfortable since they were soaked and now clammy. At least they were not getting wetter. Kara looked out of the front and saw a light. Not large enough to be a lighthouse—at least she assumed there would be some near here on the Gulf. She looked around. There seemed to be a light over to her right—far to her right. Around Mobile? Kara shook her head she didn’t know enough about this coast to even guess.
One would be very good at this point though. It could show the way into the bay. But Mr. Johnson seemed to know where he headed for so maybe the light was coming from a building or something.
Kara wondered if her new goggles would help her to see through this weather, but more than likely they would be wet and hard to see through in no time. Water splashed up into the front of the boat. She tried to move even closer to the windshield. It offered at least a tiny bit of protection. And she hoped the boat had some form of pumps to make sure they didn’t fill up with water.
A sudden cough made her jerk. It had come from an engine. She spun around and looked at it. Not much she could do if it failed but maybe if it was only the boiler. She slipped and slid to the boiler near that engine and found that its fire had gone out. Too much water in it from the storm?
How to cover the boiler to keep the fire going?
Not too many ways out here.
A new thought and she ran to the compartment with the slickers. She grabbed one and slipped and slid back to the boiler. She tied one arm to a pole that stuck up near the boiler and the other to the other boiler. The back of the slicker top hung down over the burner. She might have to hold it away from it, but first…
Kara brought out a cheap lighter and got a flame going. This older contraption did not have the same burner that Danny used but still they were all similar. She looked up at where they were headed. The boat had slowed but the rain had sped up. From the way the boat bounced, so had the waves. She could smell the oil Mr. Johnson burned. It should easier to light than other materials used. The wind and waves made too much noise for Mr. Johnson to yell any advice or encouragement. But he might be trying anyway, she thought.
She licked her lips and discovered that not all of the moisture on her face had come from the clouds. How could she be sweating in this weather? With a frown she bent back down and tried to light the starter. It wouldn’t. She stood again and looked around. A gust of wind pulled the slicker out of her hand and almost knocked her down.
She tried again but the starter refused to catch fire. Kara bit her lip. She wasn’t going to drown in this storm. There had to be an answer.
More wind. This time she had to retie one of the arms. She made sure the other one stayed tight. A sudden bounce. One foot slipped on the wet deck. Kara moved her feet fast in what could have been a dance under other circumstances. A break dance, she thought.
I hope I don’t land on my head.
Her face twisted into a frown then a snarl. Her head went up to stare at the sky, but she aborted that move. All that would happen once her face was out from under the hat, is that she would get water in her eyes and probably mouth.
One corner of the slicker top pulled out of her hand and slapped her face even as she tried to duck.
Aww, it got my eye.
Not bad enough to injury it but she still had to rub it—gently of course. Once her eye would open again she bent over the starter again. She needed to get it going now.
She looked at the where the fire would start.
What?
Kara reached out and touched it.
Damn, wet.
There was only thing to do about that, so she pulled out one of her knives, trimmed the wick and tried again. This time it started. She pulled back when the burner flared. This time when it died down, the fires kept going.
Good.
Kara thought of something she should have checked already. She looked in the water tank to make sure of the water situation and found it still at a good level.
Better, something worked out.
I am not drowning. That would allow my dad to say he knew I couldn’t do it. He said I would need every bit of training he could give me but that I would still fail myself.


End excerpt