TAXI

By H. Villamizar

The boy held his breath and led the silver spike towards the woman's bruised leg. His erratic pulse strived for a clean spot to be penetrated.
- It's my turn. He whispered scratching his left arm and held the small syringe up and flicked it twice.
Right after, his shaky hands unrolled the tight rubber hose off the lady's meager limb, her body all spread on the filthy floor. His teeth and right hand worked to make a tourniquet around his arm. Purple veins timidly emerged from his flesh.
Out of the messy household belligerent sunlight drove clouds away. Within the ruined facility not a light blub remained on. Through the window, the boy remarked on a fancy lady on a taxi, she gave a quick sniff to her palm, wiped her nose and checked her funny pink hat on the back seat. He raised his sight to the sky: “what a sunny day”.

Trees rocked under stubborn rainfall on either edge of the road. Windshield wipers unsuccessfully swept water away. The taxi driver inquired the man on the back seat about his destination. A black cell phone matching the passenger's suit hideously rang non stop.

-South-land Hospital. He murmured. Sunlight enclosed within coagulated clouds.

- How's that? The chubby man on the driver's seat replied. His heavy fist furiously stabbed the Steering wheel horn until an alien motorbike moved aside.

- Hospital of South-land. The passenger echoed, his cell phone's screen on: CALLING. The windshield, distorted by ferocious rain, reflected glittering signs flashing along the streets below premature nightfall. Ralph Mc Wright recalled the wire coming that same morning: “Today your mother expired. We accompany you in mourning. South-land Hospital.”
The man instinctively drew a lighter and cigarette out of his left pocket. Countless ditches and rainfall awaited ahead. He exhaled and had a second drag trying to avoid sleep. The driver pushed a compact into the stereo slot: “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen” melody spread in the vehicle.

The cold cup of coffee sat on the desk with piles of unsolved folders. An electronic clock announced ten a.m. from the small bookshelf. He freed a sighed and dragged a palm along his hair. The mercury sphere reached 86°F while the office inmate pressed buttons on the telephone gadget and laptop keyboard alternatively. The doorbell rang and the office worker automatically gave the typing and dialing.
- Telegram for Mr. Mc Wright. Friendly announced the mailman as soon as the door was open.
-Thanks. The office worker signed and said good bye to the happy-looking worker.

He noticed it was a fine summer day outside and closed the door thinking of pulling the blind up. Back at the desk, he tore up the express-mail-stamped envelop, removed the content and finally sat back at the busy desk facing the fold page.

The passenger had a glance out of the car window trying to evade monotony as smoke rose up in a sinuous white string. A lady on another taxi passed by, a pink-dotted hat on. Her right finger gingerly slapped twice on her nose tip as the vehicle disappeared from the man’s sight. His head displayed a related photo as he took a last drag on his cigarette and choked it in the full car door ashtray. While L. A. sang a tribute to some wonderful world rain started to cease. A half hour later the taxi pulled over at the Hospital sidewalk. Halted rain let moonbeams clear up Mc Wright tired face.

The “South-land hospital” sign blinked indistinctively next to the entrance. The man paid for the service, slammed the car door and walked in.

-Where is she?

-Good evening, Mr. Mc Wright. We are so sorry.

-Where is she?

- D Wing, section M. Miss Shelley, take Mr. Mc Wright to the D Wing, please.

- Yes, doctor Smith.

Man and nurse left the reception area as doctor Smith walked into his office.

The woman ran along the sidewalk, a blue dressing gown on, people and vehicles moved around as the barefoot woman ripped gauze pieces off her arms. She rushed among trees and long sharp grass trying to escape from public eye. A high antenna tower could be seen some meters away. Its acute summit scratched bare sky. She knew where to go. The middle aged woman was half-way the tower top when some distant witnesses had already reported the presence of someone in what was probably an electricity tower.

Shaky hands and legs strived to reach the highest spot. Wind steered her gown and hair. She stood still for a second. Eyes closed, she tried to retrieve her breath. A nice 360º degree view made her have a quick glance in every which way and climbed on. She pictured her song and herself on a Sunday pick nick. Then, the dark house filled her mind. Some times it is better to turn your back on all pains and go. Finally stood on top , she let her back fall to the ground, outstretched arms. Eyes wide open, she experienced the strongest sensation of her life.

Back from the cemetery, Ralph Mc Wright decided to pass by his former home, more humid and ruined than ever. Sun still shone above it, though. He scratched his arm and thanked the taxi driver for his service. For the first time in many years he so himself standing in front of the crooked door.