To Celebrate my retirement E-book sale

It has been a while since I have posted anything. That last set of stories had more looks than I thought it night-thanks all. Now though:

Yo: to all readers. As some of you will know I am retiring from work, after 40 years on the same job. To help celebrate it I have placed everyone of my E-books on sale. Half price off. That includes the story sets. You can now get my books from .99, 2.99 and 3.99 for the longer novels. Each one is a very good adventure read and an enjoyable plot.
Sale from today to Nov 12 

My Amazon page minus one novel.
https://www.amazon.com/L-E-Doggett/e/B01C58R1II…

That missing book-
https://www.amazon.com/Courier-Kara-wants-s…/…/ref=sr_1_154…

My Barnes and Nobel page.
https://www.amazon.com/Courier-Kara-wants-s…/…/ref=sr_1_154…

They are also on Kobo and many other e-book sites. 

As I said, great gift that gives to two people. Good reviews even though the novels could use more of them.

#books #urbanfantasy #femaleleads #steampunk #adventure#booksforsale #indienovels

SaturdayScene for June 29 two cyberpunk mini tales

     #saturdayscene    June 29th. After my birthday and two days before the end of my E-book sale-which is Sunday the 30th. Great adventures with a twist-fun reads. Urban Fantasy and Steampunk action adventures. 

       Someone one a writers’ group on FaceBook wanted to see my cyberpunk story about two “sisters”. Here are two very short tales about them. The first one is more an introduction than a story and I may have a third tale someone but I have to find it. Both were inspired from a picture.

      For quite a few months I wrote short stories from pictures. One set was a weekly challenge: writing a story less than 600 words based on a pic of the week. Another set were inspired by Charlie Hoover’s Geekscape daily picture. I seem to have lost touch with the web site so I have not done any for a while. Others did the same but my tales ended up being the longest usually. A couple did some very good 125 to 250 word mini stories. Mine usually began with 250 to 400 words but than later I expanded on them to make stories 500 words to 3,500 words or so. 

So these two I believe came from the Geekscapes pics. I describe the scene in the pic in every story which is one reason, but not the only one, they were so long. 

Both of these two together have  908 words. I might expand on the second one later. Or if I find that third one. 

I am a pryotech and my metal friend can make holograms appear, some are very solid and can hurt if they hit you. Sometimes they explode with the same energy that makes the hologram. 

      She is from a Western City-perhaps on another earth-while I grew up, as a half breed, in an Eastern city. The poor section of that city. 

      I do not have almond eyes but I still have an Asian cast to my skin and face. My hair would be good for a lion's mane even though I am fully female. My braids go down past my bosom almost to my hips. I have the forehead cut high to look alien. 

      My companion has no hair, even though her measurements might be the same as mine. She even likes to show off her belly and her bare arms as I do. They are blue, though, and show the metal panels and joints her limbs are made of. She likes to tie a sweater around her waist though while I like a belt with pouches. Powders, food and weapons fill the pouches. She doesn't need those. She does have a couple of hidden panels with weapons-two of the same type I carry.  

     We met by accident. Some type of rift opened between our two cities. They happen at times and no one knows if they are natural, the result of an accident, or if someone does them on purpose. When this one opened we stood there and stared at each other. Ready for a fight but somehow we each knew we would not need to. We talked and later reveled to the other our childhoods, struggles and powers. Now we get together to go on missions; sometimes to help someone, sometimes to smuggle or do a two story job. Of course that last is more like a ten to fifty story jobs, but everyone still calls that type or work a two story job.  

     We take turns in the other person's home-if you can call them that. Mine has many buildings two to ten stories high, even though few past five, and those in the richer areas. There are staircases and tents plus awnings on each level for most of the levels are open or have very large and long balconies. Hers buildings are taller, even though they have short ones too, with holographic and 3D signs that show what you can get on any level. Hers city has laser cars and holographic neon signs everywhere. It does have a few markets like mine does but most are on the street level with a couple on second and third level what was once parks. 

     My city gets much of its water from a small lake they built it next to.  Hers does to even though they have other sources too for it is a larger city. We are both wanted, and unwanted, we have each other's backs though. We could be sisters.

Second mini story

We were in town together again, we like to visit other cities even other earths to do our work. My sister from another city and me, who has a power not like mine. She has no hair though, even though she can use illusions to make it look like she does. 

     This time we had gone to a big city in my Eastern World. The market in this city was lighted with glow sticks, energy bubbles, battery torches, and whatever light floats down here from the tall buildings that surround this area. It smelled strongly of herbs and spices with apothecary added on. Strangely an odor of Rosemary was strong here. There is an added scent of the pollution of the city here but that wasn't what I smelled. That could be why the one booth owner we saw had an air mask on. I burnt the air in front of me to make sure. I tasted when I breathed in. My sister could stop her breathing when needed.

     Maybe the odor came from the man in the white robe who stood there as if he waited for us.

     A warlord who lived here had something we wanted. A very small, basketball size, fusion reactor. He uses it for emergency energy. We know someone who seems to have their own continual emergency, and so would pay for it a lot for it

     Evidently one of his guards found out that we take what we need, especially from the likes of him. I think this guard does not know us that well, which isn’t surprising. This will be tricky but we can outclass him. Once he is out, or worse, we will head directly for the Warlord's place, high in the building ahead of us. That building has a bridge high up to another highrise. We can use the bridge to escape but not the usual way. 

    My sister looks at me, I nod she produces the ball of blue light between her hands I prepare a concussion out of my powders, and filings. I wait to activate my heat power until he is distracted. 

   At my nod we come out of the shadows and head his way as if we were just out here to buy something. He may suspect us but his stance shows arrogance therefore overconfidence. He has won too many battles but that is good for us.

     We near him ready for whatever unfolds for we make a good team.    

#indie #freestories #shortstories #fun #reading #cyberpunk #femaleleads 

The Courier finally published-grand reading.

New book: an exciting tale of adventure and suspense.

Meet Kara Stronggear, a very young member of the cadre of Couriers. She thinks she has what it takes to be one. After all her dad trained her to fight, in the use of weapons, to know when to run. Kara knows how to operate most steam boilers, how to fly airships.
But when someone wants something she has and is willing to kill for it, she finds she isn’t as ready as she thinks.
From gun battles, to hurricanes, to fighting guard dogs, to running on the torn up streets of a strange city, to a dogfight over a desert, she finds it hard to keep ahead of the man who want something she has.
Kara has friends that are willing to help even as she doesn’t understand why. She needs to find her own heart even as she tries to protect a tiny object that could start a new world war with invincible weapons.
She has hard decisions to make and growing up to do, but she may not live long enough to do either.

Links to the Electric version can be found here: $5.99
https://www.books2read.com/u/mvjkXz
Amazon also has the paper version There is a paper version on Barnes and Noble online also and at SmashWords
https://www.amazon.com/Courier-1-L-Doggett/dp/1986253562/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1523742152&sr=8-4&keywords=L.+E.+Doggett

Third and last except from The Courier

March 3 Yo, the first part of March. Better weather for this time of year-which means rain-but we shall see how it goes from here on. We still have at least three months where it can rain.

This is the third and last excerpt of The Courier. This time from chapter six. It includes some byplay between characters as well as part of a fight. I still aim to have this out the end of March. So watch for it. But don’t wait I have tree other novels out you can buy. :)


Kara is on an airship piloted and owned by an “indie”, an independent airship owner who flies people and freight around. Many are honest but some will cheat you, while others will carry contraband and be involved with other illegal activities, which includes attacking other Indies-that comes in later in the novel. Kara is on a week long “run” to get various contracts signed but she finds herself attacked more than once and she finds something in her courier pouch that she didn’t place in it.







Enjoy:



Before she could answer with an apology he looked around at the disassembled gun on her cot and the stunner lying next to it. He might have smelled the gun oil too.
“What’s up?”
She looked up at him confused.
He pointed at the weapons. “You left suddenly just because you had a case of weapon withdrawal?”
“No, I’m sorry for not saying anything. I should have—too much time by myself, but this is something I do every so often. In my occupation I never know when I will need one of these, so I make sure they are operational.”
He nodded. “I understand that. You never know when some dust, spare oil, or insect or something will get into your weapon but this is sudden. Were you attacked at your last stop?”
“What? No.” She sighed. “This has nothing to do with being attacked. I mean, I could be, I have been while doing a run, but this is about being ready just in case.”
Kara almost rolled her eyes at her own verbal confusion. She could converse better than that. Danny gave her a look that said he didn’t believe her, but let it drop and said he needed to get back to the cockpit, and left.
Once she heard his footsteps go down the hallway, she said, “Damn! I hate lying to him.”
She grabbed one of the sticks of gum she still had left and put one in her mouth—more for something to do with her hands instead of throwing something though. She barely registered the strong flavor.
But what would he do if he knew they were being followed by people willing to kill? She needed this run and she would get past them to finish it. She was good and her rep would be even better if it got out. And she didn’t need protection. If anyone needed protection, he did. In fact she protected him by being quiet. The less he knew the better. She let out a couple of more curses though.
She hurriedly but carefully put the pistol back together. Should she go to him and try to convince him again or just let him think for the night? This had better not have ruined their friendship!
Kara finally went to bed. The next morning she slept late, after taking a long time to go to sleep. He knocked on her door and asked if she needed any breakfast. She said yes. Since she had already taken a fast shower—maybe he had heard the running water—and was dressed, she went to the small lounge. He stood there cooking eggs and bacon, and even had some biscuits in a toaster oven. He said, “Good morning. Sorry I totally forgot butter, but I do have honey. Nothing special just plain, cheap honey.”
“That’s fine, I like cheap, plain honey. I am kind of plain myself.”
He gave her a look that seemed to say, “No, you’re not,” but went back to his cooking without saying anything. A minute later he set a plate with fried eggs and bacon in front of her. Five pieces of perfect bacon. A moment later a hot biscuit joined it.
“There are more biscuits, not home made but good anyway.”
Her mouth watered for that bacon—she tasted one. Thicker than usual and so good. He must have remembered what she had said about bacon during one of their talks. Danny sat down, after giving her some orange juice, with his plate and glass. Some of his bacon was a little burnt one piece looked undercooked some. So had he taken the rejects, or did he like it that way. Damn, she couldn’t recall what he said about what he liked.
They ate in silence except for the noises of chewing.
Once done she said, “Thank you, the bacon tasted wonderful and the eggs were good too.”
He looked up at her and smiled. She stood and started to gather the dishes.
“No, I can do that. You need to get ready for your next run. In case you hadn’t noticed, we landed and are tethered.”
So that was why the airship’s movement had felt funny. “What?” She should have figured that out sooner; the movement of a ship tethered yet pushed by the wind felt different from flying.
“You slept late.”
“Oh, I wondered why you were spending so much time away from the controls.”
“I can make some coffee to help you wake up. Some hot and strong instant stuff will wake you by taste, heat, and caffeine.”
“Um, maybe you should do that, I seem to be half asleep. I’ll get dressed in my outfit.”
On the way out she again said, “Thank you for breakfast. Ir was good.” Unsaid, even though she wasn’t sure if he would get it, was, “After last night.”
Kara rushed back to her cabin and changed. Once dressed she made sure each of her devices were where they were supposed to be. That included two bottles of water and four cereal bars, just in case of some emergency. She went down the ladder, after making sure she told him her destination. She headed for the terminal. There she called her next client. He said he would be in his office this morning. She said she would be there. Nothing happened on the way even though she spotted someone that could have been that woman. This time it was hard to tell for sure, for she looked common: average height, weight and dress. This time her hair looked shorter and a different color but she could have it up or behind her in a bun. The color change could be done easily enough since Kara had last seen her. But at the same time Kara didn’t want to be too paranoid.
The man’s office was a small trailer at a construction site this time, no one was working yet on this warm morning but it looked like someone would be there at anytime. The man, who looked middle age and tough with a sweat-stained shirt, signed his contract, number four, they shook hands and she left. On the way back to the airport, though, something seemed off. She looked back at the site—it didn’t look quite the same as it had when she stood right in front of it. Closed down? She was just there though. A shrug and she continued. Just as she rushed by a very dark alley mouth something stopped her forward motion. She looked down to one side and a hand held her pouch. It pulled again. She startled but managed to plant her feet and pull on the pouch and the hand pulling on it around to her front. The man connected to the hand came with it. He looked too skinny, even though he was only half a head taller than her. He wore old, torn clothes. Obviously he hadn’t figured that she would be too in tune with it to ignore something like that.
Kara chopped at the hand—when it let go, she shoved the man hard. He had been taken by surprise so didn’t react fast enough. Now he stumbled backward and hit an A-frame with enough force to knock him over it. A clunk showed that he hit his head. She grabbed his shirt and lifted him up; he had looked underweight and didn’t wear much. She placed her face near his. He smelled of drugs, and had very bad breath. “Never try to steal a courier’s pouch. Next time you might get a knife in your gut. That is very painful.” She pushed him over the A-frame again.
Of course more than likely no courier would stab him in the gut but maybe it could scare him into leaving couriers alone—maybe. As she walked away, she thought, The first shove over the A-frame was an accident but the second one wasn’t, I went too far. But she had been angry.
A light step behind her made her turn her head. Was he up already?
No, but a man who had to have been his partner came out of the dark alley. This guy appeared to be the same height as the first one but was obviously in better shape. Even in the rags he wore he looked like a fighter with muscles. The way he held the knife in his hand showed that too. Her dad and Twoskunks both said that you could tell the ability of someone with a knife by the way he, or she, held it. This guy knew his business. Which brought up the question of why someone with that training would be here living a homeless person. Of course drug, addiction can get anyone, she thought.
Kara had no more time for thoughts: the guy had moved close enough to lunge at her. She dodged him, though, he moved deceptively fast,and she finished the movement to get her stunner out. It should have been out sooner but the new outfit was slightly different ,which she hadn’t taken into account.
Her attacker's eyes widened a bit but they went back to normal in a heartbeat. She held the stunner like a knife and her stance reflected that. Behind him she saw a woman come out of the dark alley mouth. Just like one of those otherworldly transportation gates a couple of the books she read contained, her mind insisted on saying.
She wanted to roll her eyes—this wasn’t the time for that. Kara wanted to run but knew they would be on her in a few seconds, unless she could stun them for even a couple of seconds.
The woman moved back like she wanted to let the first guy have all the fun. Kara slid sideways to get a wall behind her to make sure neither of them or a new person could come at her from behind. The man moved to her, and she glanced at the woman without moving her face or eyes. As Kara suspected, she wasn’t homeless, no matter how she dressed in ripped, old gray sweats and a loose-fitting stained top.
A second look and she thought, Neither is this man. She had seen all types of homeless, and this guy didn’t fit: his smell didn’t fit, nor his breath, nor his body language, or his hair style. A part of her mind took a second to hope they hadn’t killed the original owners of the clothing they wore.
She made a feint with the stunner, slightly pressed the button to make a noise, and to produce a spark at the end. That sometimes shook her attackers. Not this guy, though. Another feint which didn’t even make even his eyes look at her hand.
Damn, this guy was good.
Three more fakes, each one closer to him, and she struck for real. He leaned back to avoid the arc. She got her hand back in time to block his first swing. Sweat popped out on her forehead. The stunner warmed her hand since she had it running. A hard lunge from him that turned out to be a feint. She danced as he moved his feet. Two more swings each and she tried to get him to back off by swinging the stunner all the way across her front. It was on full but he moved back only a step and moved his hand to block hers. Or so she thought until a shock ran through her fingers around the stunner. A heartbeat later she knew she no longer held it. How had he done that? She knew there were ways to knock knives out of hands, but she hadn’t seen what he used. She couldn’t stop herself—her eyes went to that hand. All fingers were still there, no blood. So he hadn’t hit her with his blade.
He moved in with a sudden motion. The tip of his blade hit her chest below a breast with a faster motion. The impact pushed her back slightly, and made her grunt. But the new metal held up. She would have a bruise, but no cut. 
 Kara decided if he moved that quick she would have to as well. The heel of one hand slammed into his forehead before she could finish the thought. A jab with her fingers into his sternum and a last sock in the belly with her left fist. Then she doubled up her hands and swung up. The impact on his jaw was enough for her to hear his teeth click. A final double-fisted hit on his face. She hoped to bloody his nose but didn’t connect right. He backed off though with tears in his eyes, but didn’t go down. She had to back off, too.
Her arms were tired already and he was still on his feet. They moved around in a dance. She blocked his knife swings, but he got in a couple punches, and she couldn’t get in another solid hit. But the stunner lay on the cement behind him. She maneuvered him around. The woman joined in and tried to grab Kara from behind, but Kara slammed back with her head. When something hard stopped her head’s momentum she knew she had connected. Kara slid sideways again. Maybe she could run out in the street when some cars came by. They danced some more, the woman behind the man again, and as Kara feinted to the right as if to run to the street, the woman came around the man. A sizzle sounded, followed by an electric buzz. Then the sound of a body hitting cement. So she had forgotten the stunner Kara thought.
When the man glanced at his partner Kara drew her longer knife. The man’s eyes came back to the front and widened for a moment. Sirens sounded. So someone had called the police.

end excerpt

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