FALLEN | The Devil of Caracas

Chapter 29 | Jungle

The next few hours seem like an eternity. Lexi's body grows numb from mother nature's abuse. She sinks deeper into the mud and her boots fill with water. Over the course of the last thirty minutes, the trees slowly cease their thrashing as the howling wind eases its pace. The canopy above finally sways gently as the rushing wind travels north, away from them. The low rumblings of thunder become more and more distant as the precipitation lightens its assault against the earth.

Lexi leans her head back, resting it against the tree. Drops of water continue to drip from the jungle ceiling above. Miguel looks up at her. "I think we survived," he says.

She chuckles. Then, leaning forward to unlace her boots she says, "But we're still in the jungle." Tugging the footwear from her feet, she turns them upside down to slowly drain the water. She then rests them against the tree, with the soles up. Finally, she peels off her waterlogged socks, wrings them out, and then drapes them across her boots.

"Shouldn't we get going?" asks Miguel.

Lexi stretches out her legs and wiggles her toes, happy for their new found freedom. "I don't know how long we're going to be in this hell hole," she says. "But I don't want to be hiking around with wet feet."

"Your socks will never dry in this humidity," says Miguel.

Lexi frowns, glancing over at her upside down boots and the wool socks draped over them. "Yeah, I know... but it's better than nothing."

Miguel shrugs and decides to join her, wrenching off his own shoes and socks. Lexi watches him and then turns her attention to her own bare feet. A smirk runs across her face, looking down at her perfectly pedicured toes. They seem so out of place in the jungle. She examines the paint on her fingernails and is surprised to see how well they've held up, amid all the violence. She thinks of the elderly woman at the salon who crafted this work of art. 'I definitely under-tipped her,' she thinks to herself.

Miguel follows Lexi's gaze down to her hands and feet. He sees the bright red paint and shakes his head; this woman is just as intriguing as she is terrifying. After a minute of airing out their feet, Miguel decides to break the silence. "Who are you, really?"

Lexi looks up at him. "Doesn't matter who I am."

Miguel rolls his eyes. "Okay, okay... Well, where did you learn all this stuff?"

Lexi raises her eyebrows and tilts her head. "Miguel... you don't need to know anything about me."

After several more minutes of silence, Lexi looks out into the clearing. The clouds have moved on and the sun bakes the mud. She suddenly feels anxious; she needs to get to Sam.

"We should get going," she says, as she reaches for her socks. Although still damp, she rolls them onto her feet and proceeds to shove them into her wet boots. Miguel does the same. After lacing up, Lexi limps into the clearing and looks up at the sky. She attempts to locate the sun through the jungle canopy. Then she glances down at her watch - 13:41 hours.

The surrounding trees impede her sense of direction, but she does her best. "I think that way is north," she says. "You have any clue where we might be?"

Miguel shakes his head. "No... Unfortunately, I don't."

The two fugitives proceed in the direction of least resistance. Lexi finds a sturdy stick and uses it to slap away the obnoxious vegetation, as Miguel trails behind her. Their pace is slow, fighting against the mud and foliage.

After whacking their way for nearly an hour, Miguel finally speaks. "Okay, how about this one - you won't tell me anything about who you are, but what about who you used to be?"