Story
THE TAXI DRIVER / Armando Arteaga
noted that a stranger who smoked was strange. Rule was not in the night. Being under his legs in a few seconds, fell from the sky, lying on the floor, unconscious, while flying through the air, about the time lost in an instant to stop ¬ ce a century, was an event unprepared.
Death seemed to explode from his lips trembling.
- What's going on, Boss?
The stranger pounded the boy's face.
- I do not know nothing jefecito!. And the crowd of people grew up as an unexpected tumor at the very moment of the night. At the razor's edge, in another abyss.
Quietly, the boy slid down his leg the small package that bothered him in sex while pretending to die. The boy lay on the ground showed no signs of anything.
- It's cold.
reached to hear the voice of the stranger who smoked. . The boy felt die again, I was pretending to play dead, was not on the beach to float like a cork floating however, was playing dead. And it is getting ¬ tobacco.
- Dummy, you've cooled. The Chief just wanted to be stroked. It has happened to your hand. He has turned.
- Come - ordered an stiff voice coming from the back.
And suddenly, magically, there was silence. Only the dead man began to be with roche. A mule ¬ cú people began to surround it by a circle. The parade of legs would not let him make out or calculate how many meters was the sardinel the passage of vehicles traveling on the highway.
- Bring an ambulance!.
- Call a trooper!.
A blinking light allowed to see a circle of light at the bottom of wasteland that kissed the dark street. People were now more intent on seeking help in looking at the dead. It was then that the boy ¬ cided to make the miracle of Lazarus, rise, now or ever, and running away, being dead, flying through the air, flying young. And run, run, do not look back, could petrify, up to the first taxi he found on the highway, to release him from the tumult and scandal.
Looking back, he saw a spot amorphous screaming: help!, Help!; Has escaped the dead! ", Shouted one woman.
appeared a red Volkswagen on the highway.
- Take Me To window, "begged the driver.
This cat pal parcero is thought the fercho.
- Fuck, what have given such a beating, cumpa, is for any skirt, safe, friendly questioning him the man of the helm. I so faithful to a single Jerma. They have massacred, paisa, do not go to fall asleep, while dodging the other vehicles that snaked the ra ¬ reel wet asphalt.
New Peru. Where I leave, tigre.
The boy claimed to be in the past, "he pleaded not have money to pay. God will repay, cumpita.
- just go the next pay me, I must be one, com ¬ father. I was not going to die in the street, and there never.
The dying man was lost by the dusty side street full of houses of mats. In the gloom loomed bright discreetly houses a thread Petromax light.
The boy wore sore, until you reach the last summit of the sand ¬ ma. He played a rickety wooden door and brass.
- Open the door.
A withered woman took him disheveled and with his voice filled with fright:
- Jesus!. You have got em.
The boy fell into the arms of women.
In "Radio Mar", life was tasty, Rolando Laserie sang was The Dead Rumba (in reality.: The Dead Live). Long had been the night. Started a new dawn. Back to life, the boy was recovering from the beating.
Women in the kitchen a couple of bricks and wood-prepared chicken broth, the broth Wallpa will return the boy's life.
Outside the small hut, another hen pecked and feasted chasing a worm in the sand.
the book: "Short Stories."
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