FALLEN | The Devil of Caracas

Chapter 31 | The Little Yellow Coupe

"Dammit..." mutters Lexi. She continues to whack away the vegetation with a stick, in search of the lost pistol.

"I don't think we're going to find it," says Miguel.

"Doesn't look like it," Lexi replies. She pulls the lone magazine from her back pocket, examining the muddied object. She blows out an agitated sigh and stuffs it away. "Let's get the hell outta here."

They continue their descent slowly and cautiously. After another hour of uneventful bush whacking, they break free from the thick foliage. Lexi stumbles forward. Her heart jumps. She looks up at the blue sky. "Praise Jesus," she mumbles in English. In front of her lies a dirt trail, large enough for a car to travel. It's smooth and compact, which indicates frequent use.

Miguel comes to her side. "Thank God," he pants as he leans forward, resting his hands on his knees.

"We're not out of it yet," says Lexi, between labored breaths. She glances both directions. "This way," she finally says, pointing to the left.

"Wait, how do you know we need to go that way?" asks Miguel.

"When lost in the jungle... always head downhill," says Lexi. "Downhill usually leads to water, which leads to civilization." She points to the left again. "This way goes downhill. Come on."

"Can't we just rest for a little bit?" asks Miguel.

"Si. Rest all you want. But I'll be going this way," answers Lexi as she staggers away from him.

Miguel rolls his eyes and groans to himself. "Fine..." he mutters under his breath. Not wanting to be alone, he stumbles forward at a slow pace.

After some silence, Miguel asks, "So where are you from? I'm trying to figure out your accent."

Lexi hesitates. "Mexico," she answers plainly.

"Really?" says Miguel. He senses the lie. "I just wasn't sure Spanish was your first language... And what about the tattoo on your back? It looked like Engli-"

Lexi spins around. Miguel stops, nearly crashing into her. "Miguel, were you watching me take my shirt off?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at him. Although much shorter than Miguel, her deadly personality towers over him.

"No," Miguel lies, suddenly frightened by her accusation. "Maybe?" He steps back, sheepishly. "Well, you did, uh, take off your shirt, like right in front of me... I was just looking at your tattoos and, um-"

Lexi smirks and then chuckles. "I'm just screwing with you, Miguel." She turns back around and continues limping down the road.

Miguel lets out a relieved sigh. He cautiously follows behind her, maintaining a safe distance. "So, uh..." he starts, "what does it mean - the tattoo?"

Lexi reflects on the words imprinted against her back. They remind her of Sam - of the incident in Afghanistan; the same one that plagues her nightmares.

"It says, 'The Fallen One,'" she finally answers.

Miguel processes the words in his mind. "And... what's the meaning - to you, I mean?"

Lexi's thoughts return to her husband. "Someone very special to me once told me, that when an angel falls, it doesn't mean she's evil - just that she now gets to make her own path. I like to remind myself that no one decides my fate."

They make their way around a bend in the road. Lexi's eyes widen. She lifts her arms in the air. A smile spreads across her face as she turns to face Miguel. "Miguel!" she shouts. "We're saved!"

Miguel looks pass her. A collection of small homes sit at the side of the road nearly three hundred feet ahead. He smiles. "I can't believe it," he says. "I thought we were going to be wandering in that jungle for days."