The two men shook hands, and then Braddock explained. “I was able to organize an honor guard to your ride, Cody. Ma’am.” He turned and pointed. “Take a look.”
They stepped down and went through the gate. A path led directly to a helicopter thirty yards away, its turbine engines idling and rotors already turning. Bikers, both men and women, had lined up along the sides of the pathway — helmets, snarling faces, muscle shirts. It was the same group they had spotted near the railroad track, but it now appeared to number at least a hundred. The group stood facing outward, daring anyone in the clamoring mob to cross the line.
Brandi leaned upon Cody. “My head is spinning again.” He picked her up.
As he carried Brandi to the waiting helo, their biker honor guard stood fast. Braddock, with the non-stop voice, was at no loss for words.
“A hellish week for you, Lieutenant? I read about it.”
“Roger that, Corporal. I keep ending up in the wrong place — three times in one week. Just wanna play baseball, but —”
“Cody, in November ’65 at La Drang, we got sucked into the worst fight I’ve ever seen. I got almost no shut-eye for six days. The blood on my hands never dried cause o’ the wounds I was treating. If ever I was in the wrong place at the wrong friggin’ time, that was it, but when it was over, I had saved seventeen lives — seventeen kids who needed me to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
When they arrived at the helicopter, Cody was still carrying Brandi. He stood by the door, turned around, and nodded to the crowd.
Despite the whirling hum of overhead rotor blades, a booming voice sounded off loud and clear. “Ten-hut!” It was Braddock standing at attention. When he saluted, Brandi returned the honor for Cody since his arms were occupied. At least thirty bikers saluted her back.
Cody and Brandi strapped in. “Stan, how’s Page?”
“Gonna be okay. The bullet missed his knee joint.”
“Thank God,” Brandi said. “So these bikers just happened to know Cody?”
Stan shrugged.
“Roger that,” Cody said. “Nice work all the way around, Stan. Very professional.”
As they lifted off into the sun-bright afternoon sky, Cody looked down. Police cars, television crew vans, scores of reporters, and bystanders behind the roped-off perimeter created an ominous sight. But the people here — loving souls, kindred spirits, peacemakers — whose ancestors had endured slavery of the worst sort, refused to be put in irons again by walking in hatred. They had found love in the dark.
Like a child gazing through the rear glass of the car when leaving relatives behind after Christmas, Cody put both hands on the cabin window and stared as long as the people were in sight. It had been a long, painful journey from the valley of the shadow of death in Afghanistan to a small gospel church in Herronburg, Pennsylvania, where the bikers and locals now mingled, hugged and chest-bumped on the south lawn.
People here represented all that was right in America. Someday, he must return. Next time, he would bring his family.
After the church had faded from view, he turned to Brandi. “Your face is a mess. You want me to help you fix it?”
“Keep your hands to yourself,” she mumbled. “Uh, where are we?” Her eyes were now shut, her head bobbing gently with the soft turbulence. Her light was out.
He put his arm around her and let her head rest on his right shoulder. She nestled her swollen face onto his chest. Tonight would complete the first week of their lives together — a relationship that had begun when they had met in the wrong place because they needed each other. No matter what tomorrow might bring, he and Brandi could face anything. He knew that now. For better, for worse, they would find their future in Houston. Together.
Destination Houston
In Pittsburgh the next morning, thick fog and slow drizzle presaged a melancholy Saturday. Brandi sat next to Cody aboard a chartered jet awaiting take off, weary eyes fixated on the concrete runway below her window.
The two turbofan engines rumbled at full throttle, sending tremors through the fuselage as the aircraft began to accelerate. The powerful thrust forced her backward temporarily against the cushy leather seat. The runway rolled by faster and faster, then dropped completely out of sight as the aircraft ascended into heavy clouds that hugged the ground.
They were airborne at 7:10 a.m. Their destination was Houston Intercontinental Airport as per their official FAA flight plan. The trip would take three hours — plenty of time if malefactors chose to prepare a deadly welcome upon their Houston arrival.
Cody and Brandi sat in the front section of the cabin near the cockpit. Ray, Whitney, and Knoxi sat behind them in a club seating arrangement.
“We’re off!” Cody’s graveltone voice tried to sell optimism, but no one was buying it.
“We’re gonna be in the soup most of the trip,” Cody rattled off. “Layers of stratus clouds all the way up through thirty thousand feet this morning.”
“Hmmm.” Brandi’s empty response was nearly inaudible. Cody may have been hyped about rocketing across the sky at 400 knots through solid clouds, but she didn’t share his exhilaration. The plush Learjet Model 60 failed to find any sunshine in which to bask while climbing toward its assigned cruising altitude of twenty-eight thousand feet. She was a sunny-day person, and today even the sun was in hiding.
Three days earlier, after Knoxi had spoken her first words, a supernatural peace had settled upon the entire group. The media had painted their lives as a picture of intrigue and adventure, but now Brandi’s Saturday morning had arrived with a hundred shades of gloom. Was the dismal mist a message? A warning? Was it nature’s way of mourning for the carnage they had left behind? Or a trepidation of more to come? Or maybe just innocent clouds?
Could her depression be due to the pain meds Sam had given her yesterday? She needed to look no farther than her own bruised shins to be reminded of dangers that might lie in their pathway. Would things be any better in Texas?
“Cody?” She tapped his knee. “You awake? Cody?” If he had loved her, he would have stayed awake. If he really cared, he would have asked her to marry him already, right? How many more nights to sleep alone? Brandi sighed and stared out the window once more. Solid clouds. Why did I even bring my sunshades? She kicked off her shoes, leaned back, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.
Ray had also nodded off. His wounded shoulder was painful, and he was clearly under the influence of his medication. Whitney’s self-appointed mission was to make her husband comfortable during the flight. Knoxi slept soundly.
After three hours, the aircraft approached the South Texas coastal region and descended to eight thousand feet. Brandi awoke from a deep slumber and looked around through drowsy eyes. With unhealed lacerations and bruises, her pain medication now wearing off, she could not even remember boarding the jet. She looked to her left. Cody’s eyes were shut and he would not budge.
Bees began to swarm inside her chest. She was trapped, claustrophobic, aboard a vessel from which there was no escape. She gazed out the window and searched for any trace of blue sky above or green earth beneath, but her efforts yielded nothing save endless gray. Was the plane even moving? Were killers lying in wait at the Houston airport? Her nervous fingers fidgeted with her seat belt.
Cody opened his eyes and took hold of her fumbling hands. “Take a deep breath,” he assured. “Can you feel it?” He smiled. “We’re good.”
Warmth traveled up her arms, through her shoulders, and into her racing heart. Was that what Lilly had felt when Cody held her shaking hands and told her they were meant to heal? Brandi exhaled slowly and leaned back against the headrest. If only he would smother her in his arms. But for now, she would relish just holding on to his toasty fingers, knowing that he sensed her feelings.
“I’ll be right back,” Cody told her just before he stood and stepped to the cockpit. After a brief conversation with the crew, he returned. All aboard were now awake.
“We’re not going to
Intercontinental,” he announced to everyone. “We’re headed instead to Hobby Airport near downtown Houston. ATC just now approved a last-minute change of destination.”
Ray and Whitney nodded, but Brandi wasn’t as quick to catch on. She spelled an inquiring look toward Cody, but he was busy putting on an aviator headset provided as a courtesy by the crew.
Ray looked at Brandi’s face. “You want the short version?” He smiled. “It’s known in the field as tradecraft, deception, bogus intel. If the bad guys were planning a welcoming party at Intercontinental, they’re gonna be disappointed.”
“Never intended to fly to Intercontinental,” Cody said. “We filed our FAA flight plan to the wrong destination just to throw everybody off.”
Brandi backhanded Cody’s shoulder. “Who’s idea was that?”
“It was Ray’s idea.”
“Oh, no it wasn’t!” Ray stated emphatically.
“Ha!” Whitney chuckled. “They’ll never tell.”
“Well, which one of you heroes forgot to tell me?” Brandi scowled at both men.
“Need to know only,” Cody told her as he slipped the headset over his ears.
Brandi’s mouth flew open, but before she could set him straight, Cody was busy eavesdropping on the pilot’s conversation with air traffic controllers.
“Houston Approach, Learjet seven-six November, eight thousand, with Hobby information tango.”
“Good morning, Learjet seven-six November. Radar contact. We just received your new clearance to Hobby. Descend and maintain four thousand, fly heading two-four-zero, expect a visual approach, runway one-seven.”
As they continued their descent, the aircraft suddenly emancipated itself from the gloomy nebula and burst into clear air. Brilliant solar rays beamed in through the windows of the cozy jet. Lush Texas grazing lands now sweetened their bird’s-eye view as they looked down from four thousand feet. Straight ahead, a mere forty miles, stood a splendid sun-splashed Houston skyline. A world was out there after all.
The last-minute change of destination — a clever ruse — combined with the sudden arrival of friendly skies. Everyone brightened. Like the Pilgrims who once landed in the new world, they couldn’t wait to see what fortunes might lie ahead. Hope ran high that they had seen the last of the cloak and dagger. Cody removed his headset.
Brandi rubbed her face with both hands to clear the cobwebs. “Daddy, are you okay? Your pain meds are in Mama’s purse — those orange pills.”
“I’m good, baby girl. Nothing’s gonna keep me from…I mean I’m good.”
“Cody insisted that we wait to come until you could be with us. He wanted you and Mama here this weekend for some reason.”
Ray knew the reason, but he dared not spoil the surprise awaiting Brandi at the ballpark that night.
“Speaking of pain meds, whatever Dr. Sam gave me yesterday absolutely knocked me out.” Brandi stretched. “I slept splendidly.”
“Tell me about it,” Cody said. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Ray and Whitney snickered. Brandi noticed. “What’re you both grinning about?”
Then she turned to Cody. “And why are you so smug?”
“Well,” Cody replied, folding his arms, “you fell asleep in the helo yesterday, and when we arrived back at the hospital, I carried you from the landing pad to —”
“I don’t remember that,” she interrupted. “What was wrong with my legs?”
Whitney spouted off. “What he’s trying to tell you is that he carried you from the helipad all the way to your bed and laid you in it. You never even peeped. He collapsed beside you, and I just covered both of you with a blanket.”
Brandi grinned as her memory began to return. “So that’s why I awoke and found Cody in bed with me this morning? I supposed that with all the confusion, maybe we’d gotten married and I just didn’t remember.” She pounded Cody’s knee.
Cody raised his hands to his head. “Are you kidding? Us? Married?”
Brandi’s soft smile disappeared. He could have gone all day without trying to be funny.
Whitney decided to come clean. “Baby, we’re just messin’ with you. Cody wanted to be next to you so he would know if you had problems breathing during the night — that swollen nose of yours and all.”
“Really, Cody? Is that why?” Brandi’s dimpled smile reappeared and she leaned back against the headrest again. “So did anything else happen that I should know about?”
Cody turned toward the opposite window, rubbed his wounded hip and tried to reposition himself to take the pressure off the injury.
Brandi moved close and lowered her volume. “There was blood on the sheets where you slept. Are you bleeding again? I forgot to give you this.” She pulled a small bottle from her purse. “Sam gave it to me because she saw you limping. Wash the wound twice a day and then use this on it.” She flashed him a smiley face. “Can you do that by yourself or do you need help?”
“Where’s Lilly when you need her?” Cody smirked. “I bumped my bloodeus maximus, as she calls it, during the scuffle yesterday,” he told everyone.
“Well!” Ray boomed. “All we gotta do is find a doctor of buttology! They have those in Texas, don’t they Musket?”
Cody moved his lips next to Brandi’s ear and cupped his hand around his mouth. “I wonder how many of those ornge pills the old man took.”
“Ornge?” she asked. “What’s that? Do you mean orange?”
“Yeah. That’s what I said — ornge.”
Ray changed the tone. “I have a good feeling about coming here.”
Brandi’s face lit up. “Roger that!” She pulled her Astros cap down to just above her eyebrows and pretended to spit. “I’m sooo ready to meet Houston!”
* * *
After the wheels had touched down on the runway with a gentle nudge, the shiny Learjet taxied to the Lancelot Aviation Services ramp — their designated parking assignment. When the aircraft came to a stop, Brandi gasped at the scene outside her window — at least a million law-enforcement vehicles, lights flashing, moving toward the plane.
“Cody, how did all these people get here so fast? Didn’t you change our destination just a few minutes ago? How did they know to come here?”
“Like I said, need to know. These people needed to know earlier.”
“Well! What about me?” She crammed her swollen feet into her shoes and threw on her mirror shades. “This isn’t over!” She headed for the exit.
Cody glanced at Ray, but he conveniently looked out the window and focused on something outside the aircraft.
They were allowed to deplane, and were escorted to a new state-of-the-art VIP welcoming area with a waiting crowd of press, corporate execs, and Astros front-office honchos.
Most of the swelling had disappeared from Brandi’s face, but her right eye had turned dark underneath, so she wore the shades even after entering the building. She wanted to remove her shoes again, but decided to gut it out.
Cody saw a familiar face. Derek Tyler, his agent, had just arrived. “I forgot to tell you Derek was coming,” he told Brandi. “I’ll introduce you.”
“Hey, Slugger! Wow. She was great on TV, but I mean in person, honey, you are —”
“Brandi, meet Derek.” She shook his hand.
“Just make a brief statement,” Derek said to Cody. “No need for a long speech, and don’t take any questions. By the way, here comes the mayor.”
“You’re kidding. The mayor?” Cody’s face tensed.
Brandi impulsively took Cody’s arm. “I don’t think the Houston mayor likes Cody,” she told Derek.
“Haven’t you been watching the news?” Derek gushed. “You kids are the biggest story in America. You think he’s gonna miss being here with all the media present?”
“I hope he doesn’t call Cody out or something like that,” Brandi said while she watched the mayor mingling, shaking hands. “That’s all we need on a day like this.”
“Call me out?” Cody
forced a grin. “Which movie did you get that from? Look at the old codger. He ain’t even wearin’ no cowboy hat or big bubba boots.”
“Careful,” she snapped. “I’ll take off these shades and he’ll wonder where I got the shiner.”
“Let’s don’t build up harsh expectations ahead of time,” Ray suggested. “Maybe he’s changed his mind.”
“You never know,” Cody agreed. “Here he comes.”
Mayor Leonard Beeker was a short, stocky man with a crooked nose and dark hair. A 73-year-old son of Holocaust survivors, he had become very popular during his two years in office. Smart, efficient and jovial, he had made a fortune over four decades with a major chain of automobile dealerships throughout South Texas and was also a Vietnam veteran.
He and Cody had crossed paths. Their brief relationship had been strained. The mayor had suggested on more than one occasion that Cody was covering up secrets about his military service. Some of his comments had been carried earlier that week in USA Today.
“Hello, Cody. It’s good to have you back in our city. I recognize this lady.” He addressed Brandi and offered his hand. “I saw you on TV. Hello, Ms. Barnes.”
“Hi, Mr. Mayor. Please call me Brandi.”
“Hello, hello. And please call me Mr. Mayor,” he snorted. “I’m only kidding, Brandi. At my age, I have to act like a clown sometimes to remind myself I’m alive. Just call me Leo. And you may slap me if I get too brash.”
“Howdy, Leo,” Cody said. “We like the turnout. Uh, we’re sort o’ tired and —”
“I’ll handle this crowd, Cody. Just follow my lead.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome.” The mayor flashed his familiar charm. “As you know, security was tight today,” he paused and scanned the room, “so I don’t know how the heck some of you got in.”
Joviality ruled. The Saturday morning crowd was hyped — lots of coffee and the anticipation of hosting the newsiest couple in the country.
“Cody has a limp, but despite being among the walking wounded, he has agreed to make a brief statement.” Beeker stepped aside and began to applaud.
No Pit So Deep: The Cody Musket Story Page 23