FALLEN | The Devil of Caracas

Chapter 4 | Friends of War

She jumps. Her gloved hands grasp the edge of the searing hot metal. With a loud grunt, Lexi pulls herself up and out of the smoking helicopter. The Afghan sun beats down on her. Swinging her leg over, she balances her body on the edge of the Black Hawk and then finally drops to the other side. She hits the earth with a hard thud, rolling to the ground. Men begin to shout. She's been spotted.

Rapid gunfire spits out the ends of three AK-47 rifles at 600 rounds per minute. The insurgents charge in her direction, firing wildly. The projectiles clang against the Blackhawk. Some fly pass her, hitting the dirt. In a panic, Lexi flings herself in the opposite direction racing around the tail of the helicopter.

Once on the other side, she takes cover behind the aircraft and draws her weapon - the Army's standard issue Beretta M9. Lexi quickly racks the slide, loading a bullet into the chamber. Her hands shake. Her breathing hastens. She's accustom to fighting in the air. Not this close to the ground. Looking around herself, she evaluates her situation.

Behind her lies the destroyed chopper. To her right is the slope she ungracefully rode the aircraft down. To her left is a dried up creek bed about four feet wide and two feet deep. On the other side of the dirt filled creek lies a small hut. The ancient structure is roofless and the walls are partially collapsed.

The three men draw closer, determined to kill the American. Lexi puffs out a few rapid breaths. She rolls her shoulders, attempting to loosen the stiff muscles in her neck. She steadies her hands. She digs her boots into the dirt. She draws a deep breath.

Then finally, she leaps from cover.

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Rome, Italy | 09:42 hours

Lexi inhales sharply as she's pulled from her slumber. Sweat clings to her face and pools under her back. She groans as she rolls over, throwing the heavy comforter off her body. Sitting up on the edge of the bed she leans forward, feeling the nausea swell in her belly.

"Oh, come on," she whispers. Lexi stands up and hastily moves to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Once her body relieves her stomach of whatever it can, she decides to take that moment to relieve her bladder as well. After washing her hands and brushing her teeth, she clicks off the light and opens the door to see Sam, still asleep in the large king-sized bed, looking as comfortable as he can be.

When she returned from her jog the night before, she and her husband talked for nearly an hour and a half, expressing themselves and venting their previously unspoken frustrations. It ended with an embrace and both of them apologizing, but neither of them giving in to the other's request. They finally decided to sleep and then talk through it in the morning.

She crawls back into bed, tucking her legs under the sheets and moving closer to him. He faces the balcony door, with his bare back toward her. Lexi gently runs her fingers along his shoulders, comparing her pale skin to his dark complexion. He doesn't move, so she persists. She's awake and doesn't want to be alone.

Sam draws in a long breath and lets out a sigh. "Good morning," he mumbles.

"Hey," she replies.

He twists around. As his eyes adjust to the morning light, he takes a moment to examine her face - to read her. His dreads are no longer tied together, but hang loosely across his pillow. "What's up?" he finally asks.

She takes her time, considering her thoughts carefully, as she ponders the long discussion from the night before.

"I don't know," she finally says.

"That's bullshit," Sam responds, calmly.

She lets out a faint laugh and then rolls onto her back. "I'm going," she finally says. Lexi braces for his reply, preparing for the unavoidable argument to ensue.