No Pit So Deep: The Cody Musket Story

by James Nathaniel Miller II

  “Do I know you from somewhere?” He was certain they had never met.

  Sasha closed her eyelids, kissed him affectionately on the cheek, and then stepped back with shimmering eyes.

  “No, you’ve never met me, Cody, but I know you. My cousin was one of the eight survivors of that Chinook that went down near Helmand Province.” She soft-stroked his cheek. “He wouldn’t be alive today if you hadn’t volunteered to…what I mean is…thank you.”

  He thought to embrace the tearful young woman, but she turned to walk away, then stopped and smiled back at him. “And you’d better hurry if you want to catch her. She’s not too high on men, but I think she’ll like you just fine. She shouldn’t be alone right now, you know. Next time, they’ll have guns.”

  Cody saluted Sasha by tipping his cap as she departed.

  Dupree returned Cody’s ID and said he was free to go but not to leave town for a couple of days. He was leaving town after the Sunday game because like his friend Tanner McNair, he was heading to Detroit to play in the All-Star Game.

  So far, no one else had recognized him, but by now, half the population of Pittsburgh was swarming the hallway — all gawking at him.

  EMS responders gave him alcohol wipes to clean blood from his arms and face. They wanted to stitch the knife wound on his left arm. “No thanks, I gotta meet someone. Could you just clean it and wrap it?”

  He was frantic to depart before he was recognized, and his chances of finding Brandi diminished with every passing second. Was anyone guarding her? Did she realize the danger?

  Cody trotted toward the lobby of the theater, but by the time he reached the outside door, there was no sign of her. He walked up and down the street and searched unsuccessfully. Rain began pouring down again, so he returned to the shelter of the mall, soaked.

  The officers had not recognized Cody’s name since he wasn’t yet a national celebrity. He reasoned that if he could dodge the press, perhaps he could avoid the unwanted publicity. But Brandi was the press. She would eventually discover his identity — one more reason he needed to find her.

  * * *

  Brandi was 24. She had enjoyed VIP status since becoming a star athlete, and was accustomed to men throwing themselves at her. She was a popular, well-educated career woman who had no problem attracting status-seeking male suitors.

  Other than her father, the men in her life had brought her only one thing — pain. Numerous disappointments had left her with serious trust issues. Ray Barnes, her father, was the only man she trusted.

  Her lip was bleeding and puffy. She was battered, bruised, stinging from carpet burns on her legs and feet, but had declined a ride to the hospital from the EMS crew. She could not stop shaking from the ordeal and simply wanted to retreat to her high-rise apartment a few blocks away.

  She had left the scene in a daze and wandered into a shop to purchase a jersey so she could ditch the blanket. She had stopped by a ladies’ restroom and attempted to rinse the attacker’s blood from her hair. Moments later, she had exited onto the street.

  Even though she often walked to her apartment, Brandi had taken a cab. She was afraid to be on the street alone in the aftermath of her attack, and beside that, it was raining again.

  From the backseat of the cab, she called her father, Ray Barnes. “Daddy, is Mama with you? You won’t believe what just happened.” With shaky breath, she related the events. “I’m just trying to hang on to my sanity. What? No…no, Daddy. Daddy, listen to me. No, I’m really okay! The men are in custody. There was this man who showed up. I mean…”

  She put her hand over her face. The curious driver was eavesdropping and watching in the rearview mirror. She toned it down as she told about the stranger who had defended her.

  Her parents wanted to know more about her mysterious guardian. “I dunno, I had to get out of there. He was still tied up with the cops when I left. I have no idea why he helped me. I assume he’s just a glory seeker like most men I’ve met.” She scooted to the far side of the seat to escape the invasive eyes of the driver still staring at her in the mirror.

  “I can’t remember all the details. I breathed some of the chloroform they forced on me. I think he mentioned Afghanistan.”

  “If he’s former military, you’d better stay clear of him ‘cause some of those guys can be violent.”

  “Oh, he’s an animal, Daddy! I mean those guys had no chance. The way he…I mean, Daddy, he beat the snot out of ‘em!” She chuckled, then sobbed again.

  “If he took down three of those mask heads, sounds like special ops to me,” her father said. “They don’t always do well in domestic relationships, so if I were you —”

  “Three?” she interjected. “Did I say three? Or were there four? Now I can’t remember. He had these awesome blue eyes that, like, go right through you. That’s the only thing I remember for certain.”

  “Baby girl, you need to get some medical help. You said three, and you said this guy appeared out of thin air. Your mother and I are coming down there tonight. Go to your apartment and stay there! It’ll take us a while ‘cause the storm has flooded some roads.”

  Just then her smartphone told her she had an incoming call. “Daddy, the police are calling. I’ll ring you back.”

  It was Dupree. “Ms. Barnes? We’ve identified one of the suspects. The big guy who had you by the throat is extremely dangerous. The FBI wants him in connection with a double homicide and the abduction of three children in Brentwood. The Feds believe the three kids have been moved out of the country. It’s good your boyfriend didn’t kill him ‘cause they need the perp to talk.”

  Brandi managed a shallow groan. She saw dark spots before her eyes.

  “You need to get some protection,” the detective continued. “These guys are part of something bigger. Your crusade has them stirred up. Lucky your date was able to handle these baggers. He asked us not to reveal his identity ‘cause he’s afraid that…well, I guess he’s afraid they’ll come after him, so we said we’d oblige him.”

  “He wasn’t my date. Who exactly is he?”

  “This guy, his name’s Cody. He asked what you do.”

  “So he didn’t know who I was? He’s gotta be lying. Is he from around here? What does he do?”

  “Oh, I see. So you don’t know him at all? That’s what he said, but we don’t know how reliable he is. You ever seen him before?”

  “Never laid eyes on him.”

  “Okay. He wasn’t forthcoming about why he’s in Pittsburgh and what his occupation is. Says he’s a martial arts instructor, and his ID has a Houston address. Martial arts my butt! This guy’s no instructor. He’s a — Well, anyway, he wanted us to keep his last name out of the press, and I guess we owe him that much.”

  “The press? Why’s he worried about the press?”

  “We ran him but got no warrants or criminal records. Why did this martial arts expert from Houston just happen to show up tonight, twelve hundred miles from home, at the very time and place you get assaulted? My instincts tell me he’s holding something back. It just doesn’t add up.”

  “What’s he not telling us? I’m coming back. Maybe I can get it out of him.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Ms. Barnes. This is a dangerous man.”

  Brandi no longer had feeling in her right hand holding the phone. She put her head between her knees in the backseat of the cab to keep from fainting. She had been a fool. Why had she just walked away? He was either trouble or an answered prayer, and she would find out which. Her stomach was twisted like a rubber band, but she was determined.

  Brandi loved a mystery. Was he a devil? An angel? Why put himself in harm’s way unless he expected to gain something? Was it a setup? Did that even make sense? Think!

  Could she have found a real superhero? She managed a tight grin and then chuckled. Hmmm, what if his last name turns out to be Kent? Cody Kent? Ridiculous!

  Brandi asked the driver to turn around. Her cabbie could not drive fast enough to suit
her. When she walked through the lobby of the Cinema 18, people stared. Everyone was buzzing. Authorities had closed the crime scene. Her superhero was not to be found.

  Too late. Maybe someone had taken a picture. Was he in witness relocation? What was his story? Brandi’s hands were still shaking. Her palm felt cold against her forehead. Then, deep in thought, she was startled to hear a raspy male voice behind her.

  “Brandi? Hi, my name’s Cody.”

  Devil or Angel?

  Brandi turned around. Her stomach, still in knots, leaped into her throat. His chiseled face was handsome in a home-on-the-range sort of way. His sculpted cheeks were partially masked by a rough-hewn beard — the obvious cover-up for scars visible through his whiskers. His nose had been broken at least once. This guy had been in some fights.

  The Pirates cap he had worn earlier was now in his back pocket and his sandy blond hair wet around the sides. Did he know that his shirt had turned pink on the front? The blood spatters had faded together, partially washed off by heavy rains.

  Was she face-to-face with a superhero? He was not as tall as she remembered. His fiery eyes that could have intimidated Lucifer earlier were now softer, like quiet blue waters. He offered his hand, but his shallow, forced smile told her he was not certain how she would respond. Was his shyness just an act?

  Whew! His extended hand was attached to a massive forearm. His neck was wide and muscular, his body built to last, rough-cut from head to toe — a description that would make good print in her eyewitness report for the Gazette.

  “I wanted to thank you,” Cody told her, “for savin’ my life earlier.”

  She could hardly believe her ears. Was it a come-on? Was his voice naturally that raspy, or just a poor attempt to imitate Batman?

  “You want to thank me? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

  She extended her hand. It was cold and unsteady. Would he notice? His handshake was warm, ardent, but gentle — the same paw that had just mauled three professional tough guys. She tried to swallow her stomach back down into place but her mouth was too dry.

  “Well, I would’ve been a sittin’ duck if you hadn’t deflected that guy’s arm. You showed presence of mind and courage.”

  “Presence of mind and courage?” She snickered. “You mean for a girl?”

  “Uh, no I didn’t say that. Courage knows no gender.”

  She tried not to laugh. The Texas accent, nearly as bad as in the movies, and one-liners about courage — where was he getting his material? Was he left behind by his Boy Scout troop?

  “Why are you soaking wet?” she asked. “Did you get lost?”

  “Lost? Nope. I went outside lookin’ for you.”

  “Looking for me? Why?”

  “Just wanted to see…see if you were okay.” He shrugged.

  “You’re a long way from the rodeo, cowboy. I mean you obviously aren’t from around here.”

  “Nope. What gave it away?”

  Brandi fancied herself an expert at controlling a conversation, but she was on a slippery slope with this guy. She pulled out her smartphone to take notes.

  “Texas. Right?” She looked up from her phone. “I think it’s a good thing that God didn’t make us all sound the same.” She waited for a response.

  He took his time. His sweet-n-soft eyes perused her face like a pair of blue searchlights looking for hidden bounty. She wondered if Lois Lane had felt the same urge to hide behind something when she discovered that Superman had X-ray vision.

  “So, it’s God’s fault I sound this way?” he finally responded. “I like that. You’re smart as a bullwhip — for a girl.”

  Was he just messing with her? Was he trying to be funny, or just plain rude? Does this Stony Burke ever smile?

  He was familiar but a total stranger. She should have known him but had no idea why. “Okay, let’s see, ‘Courage knows no gender.’ Who did you hear say that?”

  “It just came to me. You must have inspired me.”

  Oh, how lame! “Okay, fair enough. But why should I trust a guy from Texas who just happens to show up over a thousand miles from home right when I need a hero? Why were you here?"

  “Divine appointment?” he suggested, his face like stone.

  She wasn't buying it. “Okay. I get it. I’m grateful. You were wicked impressive, but I didn’t ask for your help, you know.”

  He dropped his head and crammed his hands into the front pockets of his Wranglers. Sasha had warned him she wasn't high on men.

  By now, his pupils had readjusted to the dim light. He noticed the raw skin and bruises on her throat. Her hands were still trembling. He winced at the abrasions and carpet burns on her arms, knees, and feet — the repugnant signature left behind by a gritty carpet over which she had been dragged.

  As his staring eyes drifted downward, a solid knot formed in Brandi's throat. The cut-offs did not extend low enough to hide her battered legs. If only she had obtained a pair of full-length jeans when she had purchased the jersey. She put her phone away.

  He raised his eyes and forced a hasty, genteel smile — an offering which seemed out of sync with his growly voice and brooding forehead.

  “Well, as far as my showing up at the right time, I don’t believe things like that happen by accident.” His voice mellowed. “If it hadn’t been raining, I wouldn’t have been here tonight. I wudda been at work."

  She frowned. Divine appointment? Why did he seek her out after the attack? What did he expect from her? He works at night, but not when it rains?

  During the awkward silence, Cody glanced toward a coffee shop. “Would you wanna get coffee at the Allegheny Brew?”

  “Sure,” she said. “But it’s on me.''

  As they walked, people stared. Cody covered his face with his hand, yanked his soaking wet Pirates cap from his pocket, and pulled it low over his eyebrows.

  His secretive body language heightened her suspicions. “Are you here on business this weekend?”

  “You might say that, but I had the night off.”

  “Do you play games?”

  Cody raised his brow. “Play games?”

  “Yes. Games. Like right now. You’re just playing games with me, right?”

  “Ohhhh. Games. Of course not, I never play games.”

  “So let me get this straight, you work more than a thousand miles from home at night except when it rains? Or do you just zip about looking for somebody to rescue? Someone to beat up maybe?”

  “Not really,” he muttered. His mechanical smile faded as he jammed his fists into his front pockets again.

  She was crashing and couldn’t wait to get her hands on a cup of pick-me-up. “Do you enjoy making me play twenty questions?”

  “I wasn’t counting.” He looked straight ahead as they walked.

  At the coffee shop, he ordered a double espresso, and the server gave Brandi her usual — a topped-up macchiato. They sat down.

  “So can you at least tell me your last name?"

  "Can you tell me why those guys were after you tonight?" he countered.

  "I asked you first, Mr. Texas."

  Cody drew a deep breath. “I returned from Afghanistan several years ago, and I haven’t got what most people call a real job yet."

  “A real job? How ‘bout a real name?"

  “What’s your interest?” He raised his cup and took a sip. “Is it just so you can write a story?”

  "Should there be another reason?"

  "I was hoping…" He hesitated. "Hoping we could be friends."

  “Well, to quote the famous Rodolfo LaRenzo, 'You’re either a big nothing disguised as something, or a big something disguised as nothing.’ So which one are you?” She waited.

  He stared for a moment and scratched his chin. “I heard someone say you played pro basketball in the WNBA.”

  Brandi waved him off. “Yeah, but that was a while back.” She sipped her macchiato. “What about you, Cody? Do you know any professional athletes?”

  “Not a
ny as pretty as you.”

  Her legs and neck were stinging and throbbing, and she was in no mood to be hit on or flattered. “So, um, Cody, do you have a girlfriend?”

  “I had a blind date this week in Philly. She was a six-three hockey player from Erie.”

  “Erie, Pennsylvania?” Brandi took a nervous swallow from her cup.

  “Yep. Didn’t work out, though. We sat there at the arena coffee shop for about a half hour. We didn’t talk much.”

  No talking? Hmm, that’s a surprise. “So what happened?”

  “Well, I cocked an eye at her, she cocked an eye at me, and we just sat there real cock-eyed for a while.” He lifted his cup again.

  She covered her mouth and looked away. Oh, God, please don't let me laugh.

  “I can understand y’all wondering why I’m reluctant to tell you who I am. But there’s a reason.”

  “I know,” she said, as if a light had dawned, “you’re with the Feds, or you’re a front man for some politician maybe?”

  Cody rolled his eyes. “Where are you comin’ up with this stuff?”

  “Stuff? Well, you do know what a politician is, right?” She crossed her legs and began kicking her foot nervously under the table.

  “Oh, I’m not very political myself.” He folded his arms. “In fact, to quote the famous Maxine T. Dillahogan, ‘Politicians and diapers are somewhat alike — they both need to be changed often, and for the same reason.’”

  Brandi covered her face with both hands and tried desperately to keep from laughing out loud, but an impulsive knee-jerk sent her flip-flop flying underneath the table. It landed on his chair between his knees. The traumatic events of the evening and the macchiato had her wired.

  She wanted to disappear into her seat, but Cody never reacted. He looked away momentarily and then dropped her wayward pink leather flip-flop back onto the floor underneath her feet.

  The macchiato in Brandi’s stomach felt like lava. “Um, Maxine T. Dillamahoochie or whatever you said? Never heard of her. Who was she?”

  The gravel in his throat rattled off again. “I just made her up.” He shrugged.