No Pit So Deep: The Cody Musket Story Read Online Free PDF

cliff that extended several hundred feet upward. It was early afternoon, and the sun had moved just behind the tops of the rocks, thus placing him in the shade. Positioned in the shadowy recesses along the bottom of the escarpment, he and the others hoped to make themselves invisible.
    “How you doin’, Lieutenant?” It was Major Simon Hendrix, commander of the mission, sitting farther back underneath the ledge. Two rounds had shattered his left shoulder and collarbone, and the resulting fall had inflicted a head injury. Morphine had slowed his speech. His face was splotched with reddish-gray mud. He wore a bloody head bandage and his dark eyes were bloodshot and puffy.
    “I’ll live, Sir. Looks like you took one through the shoulder? Hopefully, we can be outta here in an hour or so.”
    “Take another look around you, son. Reality is, this retreat is safe for now, but it’s just a matter of time. Can’t get a helo in here because of the rocks and the cliff behind us. We’ll have to abandon this location just to find a vertical landing zone.”
    Even with the morphine, the major’s voice was commanding, articulate, resolute.
    “We also have three injured now, Babe, including Seismo,” Chavez reminded. “Gonna be impossible to relocate again and avoid detection. And I can tell you for sure, Seismo won’t make it if we don’t get him to a hospital.”
    “What about the kids we left in that ravine?”
    “No way, Babe. Suicide if we go back to get them without a gunship for cover. Right now, looks like we’re gonna have to fight our way out of here. Shoot-n-scoot may be our only option, but the odds will be twenty-to-one.”
    “A Parthian shot? We gonna try it tonight?”
    “Won’t work, Babe,” Hondo spit out. “Too hazardous without the full moon, especially carrying wounded. Bullock stepped on loose rocks in broad daylight and fell thirty feet.” He pointed to the other injured SEAL, Jeffry Bullock, age 28, who was grimacing even after receiving morphine. “He’s laid up over there with a broken ankle and shattered hip.”
    “Besides that, son, you forget that the Parthian shot required horses.” Major Hendrix gutted out a smile. “And they didn’t teach that at the Academy.”
    Due to the extended mission and additional wounded, medical supplies were running low, including pain meds. Cody’s adrenaline rush now abandoned him. With morphine and the exhaustion, he fell asleep and did not awake until 0500 the next morning.

Ne’er Saw True Beauty ‘til This Night
    Four years later —
    Houston, Sunday, July 6 — Oakland right-hander Jake Grim stood in front of the pitcher’s mound and glared toward home plate. His wiry hair curled upward from underneath the sides of his cap. His rugged beard, gnarly expression, and six-foot seven-inch frame afforded him an intimidating presence like that of a giant Neanderthal on steroids.
    Cody Musket, rookie third baseman, stepped out of the batter’s box, removed his batting helmet, and wiped perspiration from his eyes. With a full count and bases loaded with two outs, his team trailing by two runs, Cody had fouled off three nasty sinkers in a row.
    It was the bottom of the ninth inning. The crowd was on its feet. It had come down to a mind game between one of the best veteran relief pitchers in baseball and a rookie hitter who had been with the big league club only ten weeks.
    Astros broadcaster Bobby Dodge had the call.
    “…Grim stretches, checks the runners. And here comes the payoff pitch again. Musket sends a soft line drive down the right field line. It’s slicing…but it’s a fair ball! One run across! Two runs score! And now here comes Bustamante around third! The throw to the plate is off-line! The Astros win again! The ‘Stros have now won their eighth in a row as they prepare to leave town for a three-game series in Philadelphia, and then three games with Pittsburgh beginning next Friday, leading up to the All-Star break…”
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