Chapter 19 | The Fallen One

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Lexi attempts to browse through a magazine with her left hand, while her right remains in a sling. She winces, as she painfully adjusts her position. The hospital bed is comfortable enough, but only for so long. For a U.S. Army forward operating base, it's not a bad hospital. The equipment is state of the art and the doctors here lack nothing.

She looks to her right, eyeing two soldiers in the beds next to her chatting loudly. They've been going back and forth about some obnoxious movie and she's ready to tell them to shut up.

"How ya feeling?" rings a familiar voice.

She turns to her left to see Sam Remington walking toward her bed, with a big grin across his face. 'Is this man ever not happy about something?' she wonders.

"Better," Lexi replies. "Thanks to you guys and, of course, lots of drugs."

"Good," says Sam. He grabs a nearby chair, flips it around and places it close to her bedside. Then taking a seat, he leans forward and looks up at her. "Also, you're welcome for saving your ass."

"Yeah, yeah..." says Lexi, looking away. "I had that shit under control, so don't let it go to your head." She attempts the light-hearted banter, while her mind triggers a flashback. She had never experienced anything more terrifying in her life. Lexi quickly stuffs her emotions deep inside her and looks back at Sam's face. His smile is still present, although less enthusiastic, but his eyes are full of empathy. He examines her intently and she returns his gaze.

"What?" she finally asks.

Sam remains silent for a moment. "That's the first time you've had a team member killed, isn't it?" he finally asks.

Lexi looks away again. She stares at the foot of her bed, avoiding his eyes. Finally, she nods.

"First time under fire?" Sam asks.

She shakes her head.

"I mean while on the ground," he adds.

She nods.

The two of them remain silent for a moment. "It's gonna stick with you the rest of your life," Sam finally says. "It changes you. People don't really realize what that kind of experience does to them until they go through it."

"Are you trying to make me feel better about it? Because you kinda suck at that." Lexi says, sarcastically. She looks back up at him.

Sam, chuckles. "No, just letting you know that you're not alone in all this."

Lexi wonders what kind of terrifying things Sam has seen and done during his career in the Army.

"I'm sure you just get used to it, right?" she asks.

He shrugs. "I guess. Maybe for some people. I think the best thing to do is to just keep moving, you know? It's always harder when you stop. When things get quiet... that's when the thoughts come back. The fear... Honestly, I think I'm more scared of the silence than when the bullets are flying."

She looks him over. It's hard to imagine this man being afraid of much. His large stature and gnarly beard match the composure of a man who should be feared rather than be afraid. But there's something profoundly tender in his soul.

"I guess all the noise reminds you that you're not alone," he says.

The two soldiers eye each other for a moment. Lexi glances back down toward her feet. "So, tell me about yourself, Sergeant," she says, abruptly changing the mood of the conversation.

Sam smirks. "Well, what is there to tell?"

Lexi shrugs her good shoulder and looks back up at him. "I don't know. Start from the beginning."

"Oh, wow. That's a long ways back," Sam laughs. He leans back in his chair. "Well, I was born in Haiti. My mom and I immigrated to the United States when I was four, so I don't remember much of it, really. She worked a bunch of different jobs. I helped where I could. Eventually, she married my stepfather, when I was nine. Then she studied immigration law." Sam pauses for a moment and smiles. "I love my momma. She's amazing. I really do look up to her."

Lexi smiles. "Well that's a nice story about your mom." She chuckles. "I was asking about you. Tell me how you ended up in the Army?"

"Nine-eleven," Sam answers simply. "I just graduated high school and was working at a gas station, when the towers fell. I wanted to do something about it, so I enlisted in the infantry. Went to Iraq, then to Ranger school, and then eventually moved to Special Forces."

Sam studies Lexi. "What about you?"

Lexi inhales slowly and leans back on her pillow. "Well, I was born in Texas. I'm the youngest of four, with three brothers."

"Oh jeez," says Sam.

"Yeah, so as you could imagine, I was always at their mercy," Lexi laughs. "We grew up working on my dad's ranch. My mom died when I was thirteen - kicked in the chest by her horse... I was the one who found her..." She pauses, as her mind runs through the awful memory. "I had a lot of anger issues, growing up. My dad tried putting me in sports and Karate and stuff. Eventually, I picked up MMA."

"No shit," says Sam.

"Yeah, I actually competed at the state level. I got pretty damn good."

"Well, maybe we should spar sometime," says Sam.

"Oh, I'll kick your ass, Sargent," replies Lexi.

Sam laughs. "Let's do it. Once you're all healed up, I'll take you on in the ring. Don't worry, I'll go easy on you."

"I won't," says Lexi, with a grin.

Sam smiles. "So, then what?"

"Well... I went to college to get the hell out of that place. I just... needed to leave. I studied business and eventually joined the Army, 'cause I thought it would be dope to fly choppers."

"Has it turned out to be as 'dope' as you expected?" asks Sam.

Lexi glances down at her useless arm, resting in the sling. "Still deciding."

They sit quietly, as Lexi's thoughts turn to the crash. She finally breaks the silence. "So, how do I just 'keep moving forward?' You know... after something like that. How do you do it?"

Sam shrugs. "Everyone's different. For me, I like to learn new things... I don't have time to think about the past, if I keep my mind occupied with something new."

"And how are you doing that?"

"I do a lot of reading... Anything, really."

Lexi cocks her head to the side. "I never would have pinned you for a reader," she says with a smile.

Sam laughs. "Ouch... What's that supposed to mean?"

Lexi chuckles. She's still not sure what to think of Sam. He's confident and candid. That's sort of refreshing, really. Although, once they're stateside, he'll have to change his tone and be sure to salute her next time they see each other. As a Warrant Officer, she outranks him.

"I don't know... I finished school; I think I'm done learning new things for a little bit," Lexi jokes.

Sam furrows his eyebrows. "Oh, come on... You never stop learning new shit. Even for some hot-shot, like you." He leans back in his chair. "Seriously, it helps... in my opinion."

"So, what kind of things are you learning, Sergeant?" asks Lexi.

"Well, I met this German dude a couple years ago; he's got me practicing some German. I can teach you that."

Lexi laughs. "Yeah, I'll pass. I already learned Spanish, because, you know, I'll probably actually use it at some point in my life."

"Well..." starts Sam, "I do know some pretty nifty stuff, in case you ever get in another fight."

"I doubt you can teach me something I don't already know," scoffs Lexi.

Sam raises his eyebrow. "Wow, you pilots are pretty damn cocky."

Lexi smiles. "Maybe..."

They sit in silence for a moment. Lexi feels surprisingly comfortable with him. Sam looks down at the ground.

"You know," he starts, "the guys and I were talking. We- uh... we were talking about when we saw you flying in, and it just made me think about this feeling I got, you know? We were under a shit ton of fire, our guy was hit, and we needed that medevac real bad.

"There were too many civilians nearby, so we couldn't call in any artillery, either. It was just our team with the ANA and we were getting pounded.

"I remember praying to God that he would send us an angel... And then you finally came flying in and I was like, 'there's our angel. Looks like the man upstairs is answering the phone today.'"

Lexi scoffs. "Yeah, and then I fell from the sky and you guys had to come save my ass..."

Sam laughs. "Well, yeah, that's true... And when you think about it, the last time an angel fell from heaven he really wrecked some shit up."

Lexi thinks about that comment for a moment. "Are you comparing me to Lucifer?"

Sam shrugs.

"Asshole," says Lexi. She swings her left arm to swat his shoulder, but the movement sends a jolting pain through her body. "Ah!" Her eyes shut. She sucks in a strained breath through her clenched teeth and leans back onto her pillow.

Sam jumps from his chair and leans over Lexi, ready to attend to her. "You okay?"

She looks up at his concerned expression. Lexi stares into his warm and welcoming eyes as they search her face for any more signs of discomfort. Her heart jumps. She feels something - a sudden sense of vulnerability. Her entire soul seems exposed to this man for a brief moment. The sensation is unusual; she likes it.

Sam steps back from the bed and returns to his chair. "You know," he starts, "being a fallen angel isn't really all that bad."

"How do you mean?" she asks.

He shrugs. "I guess it means you get to play by your own rules. No one can tell you what to do. No one can keep you locked up... You're free."

---

Lexi fades in and out. A foul odor enters her broken nose, wreaking of unwashed bodies. She hears a long, dull scraping sound - something dragging against concrete. Her body aches. Someone is pulling at her arms. Her eyes ease open. She sees the concrete floor. On either side of her, walk two pairs of black jungle boots. Lexi's brain begins to process the sensations; her feet scrape along the floor behind her, as the two guards grasp her upper arms, dragging her forward, faced down.

She's pulled into a small jail cell, where she's laid down, on her stomach, onto the hard floor. Lexi's hands remain restrained behind her back. She lies still, drained of all energy. She tries to speak, but her throat tightens and her lungs expel a fit of harsh coughs. Her eyes, blurred at first, refocus on a group of men to her right. The five prisoners stand on the other side of iron bars. Her vision fades.

Miguel grips the bars, tightly. He and his cellmates observe the scene, intently.

"I'm going to grab some coffee," says the interrogator. "You want some?"

"Si," replies the other guard.

Lexi feels someone grabbing at her hands and cutting through her restraints with a sharp knife. She fights to force her eyes open. Once free, her arms fall at her side - weak and unwilling to labor. The skin on her wrists is tender and sore. 

The metal door produces a loud clank as it shuts behind the interrogator. The metallic sound resonates within Lexi's pounding head. Out of the corner of her eye, she recognizes the man standing over her - the creep. The same man who appeared to enjoy watching her dangle from the rope. He seemed aroused by the violence. He leans down and brushes the loose strands of hair from her face. Feeling his vial fingertips touch her skin sparks anger inside her body.

"Don't... touch me," she barely manages to say. Her voice is strained and hoarse. The rope all but collapsed her windpipe, leaving her nearly unable to speak.

The man lets out a short laugh and smiles. "Oh, don't worry," he says. "We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other."

Her rage begins to build. She's repulsed by him.

He grabs her by the shoulder and quickly spins her onto her back. She let's out a sharp whimper. The sudden movement aggravates her headache along with every sore muscle in her body. Her right shoulder tightens, from its injury earlier that morning. He then climbs on top of her, straddling her waist. The creep holds his combat knife over her face, reminding her who he thinks is in charge. She examines his grip on the weapon - loose and sloppy. He slowly lowers the knife to her throat, allowing it to graze her skin.

He then turns to the five men in the other cell and asks, "How would you boys like a little show? Maybe just a tease?"

"That's not right, hombre," says Miguel.

The creep chuckles and returns his attention to Lexi. She glances behind him; the cell door is wide open.

Still holding the knife above her throat with his right hand, the man migrates his left down toward her waist. He then runs it underneath the fabric of her black T-shirt and moves it toward her chest, revealing her bruised stomach.

"Don't.... touch me..." The strained words are forced out of Lexi in a rage-fueled growl, despite her nearly collapsed throat. Her beaten body pleads her not to move it. Slowly, she tests the strength in her hands, clasping her fingers into a tight fist. It seems to require an overwhelming amount of energy.

The man leans against the knife, applying slight pressure to her skin. He runs his hand farther up her shirt. She feels his weight shift off her hips; he's now unbalanced. His attention turns to his fingers grabbing at her sports bra. He's sloppy. She's calculated.

Finally, the surge of rage and adrenaline hits her body. Her left hand snatches his right wrist as the other grabs the front of his shirt. With all the momentum she can muster, she rolls him off her body and climbs on top of him. He fights to get up, but she crams her knee into his chest. Lexi clutches his right hand tighter. She twists his fingers, rolling the knife out of his grasp. Every movement sends pain through her body. She fights through it. Swapping the weapon into her  right hand, she swings it in a wild motion. The blade slices his throat.

Warm blood sprays from his broken skin, blanketing Lexi's face. His eyes bulge. He gargles and chokes on his blood.

Lexi adjusts her grip on the weapon. She swings downward, hacking into his chest. The blade cuts through. It scrapes against bone. She yanks the knife upward, ripping it out of his body. She swings it down again. It breaks his sternum, entering his heart. She keeps hacking, despite his flailing arms. He fights to defend his blood-soaked body. Each swing fails to satisfy her furry. All the pain and anguish she has endured now explode from her body with wild ferocity.

She watches the life leave his eyes. He drops his head to the concrete floor. Lexi continues stabbing at the mutilated corpse. Blood flings from the blade each time she yanks it from his body. Her swinging begins to slow. She finally crams the blade into his chest one last time. Each breath is labored. She straightens up slowly. Her head pounds. Her arm burns from the violent motion. Her loose strands of hair cling to her sweaty and blood-soaked face. She pants heavily, ripping the knife out of the body. It quivers furiously in her unsteady, crimson hand. Her blood-soaked clothes hang from her body.

Lexi turns to face the five men watching in complete horror.

She tries to catch her breath and through a strained voice, she growls, "I hope... you enjoyed... the fucking show."  

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