The Relic

About León

About León

THE RICKETY TRUCK snorted and vibrated, trembling with each step as it climbed the steep road. It was a small truck that could be driven with a normal passenger car license. The condition of the vehicle was deplorable and it felt as though the engine was going tocollapse to the ground at any time. Inside, León, its driver, didn't really look much better than the truck. León was a somewhat peculiar man - he had a big, round head like a watermelon, and a very red face caused by his fondness for anise. His hands were also unusual - they were big and strong but equally clumsy.

León and his truck were an odd team. The vehicle moved along the road like a dying elephant, although when it began descending a hill it seemed to be in a hurry to fall apart, as if all it wanted was to rid itself of its body and be left alone with its motor and wheels to feel lighter and achieve more speed and reach. Sometimes, ittumbled from side to side of the road invading the opposite lane. This happened when León lit a cigarette because when he did, he moved very slowly. He'd first pull the packet of cigarettes from the pocket in the chest of his shirt. He'd then put his hand through the collar of his jumper, pull the packet out and put it in his mouth, forcing one of the cigarettes to come out through the unsealed area of the packet. He'd hold it between his lips and begin to search for the lighter by first looking in the dashboardamong numerous papers, fines and old transport schedules. Then, he'd continue looking in a receptacle under the dashboard, in the centre of the vehicle, near the shiftlever. Then, the glove box. It was far, in front of the passenger seat, so he would be forced to lean towards the side to reach it. León's movements were slow and untroubled, unconcerned by the fact that the truck was lurching from side to side on the road and other drivers were beeping and cursing. Eventually, as he found the precious lighter, León'sface split into a sharp grin, like someone who has found a very valuable object. The driver's window was wound half way down, causing the outside air to blow the light out every time he tried to light his cigarette. Then, freeing the hand that held the steering wheel, he'd put it over the lighter to prevent the air from blowing it off and at the same time, he'd try to light the cigarette over and over again, while the truck circulated on the road without any human control and headed directly towards an oncoming vehicle. Collision was imminent but León was very busy trying to light his cigarette and the truck seemed to accelerate more and more. It appearedas though the poor old truck had made the decision to end itsarduous life. A loud honkwas heard and it quickly became louder, indicating that the vehicle was fast approaching. Then, the screeching of wheels against the asphalt as the carskid. León looked up. A small red car was already almost under the truck, smoke gusting from its wheels blocked by the brakes. A sudden swerve by Leónsucceeded in averting the truck from invading the opposite lane and, by a strange coincidence, managing to avoid the collision. He took the cigarette, still unlit, with the same hand he used to hold the lighter,and loudly bawled out:

- Illiterate! Push me over again and I'llbreak your face!

The incident troubled him and his complexion became even redder - in fact, more than reddish, his skin tone had now turned togreyish -, and a drop of sweat slithered from his temple down his cheek. Then, he noticed a roadhouse not too far and decided to forget what happened over a gratifying glass of anise. It was late and it was getting dark, the perfect time to stop for a drink. There was only one last item to deliver - a well packaged box about one by one metre, addressed to a monastery. So, León decided to stop at the bar and ask for directions to the monastery. He took the detour that led to the door of the establishment and parked almost in front of it as if he planned to drive the old truck into the inn.

Theconcrete exterior of the building made it looked more like a war bunker than a tavern, but this wasn't important at all. The only thing that really mattered was that they served anise,Sanblás in particular, the type of quality anise León so adored. He climbed two steps and entered by pushing the metal gate, which slammed violently when León released it, only to become stuck half wayas it rubbed againstthe uneven tiles of the floor. He glanced to the right and saw the counter. To the left a few empty tables and chairs. By the bar there were two persons and behind them the waiter, a man with a bushy beard but barely any hair on his head. León stood at the other end of the bar and ordered a glass of Sanblás. The waiter served it immediately and León's eyes flashed momentarily with happiness. Behind the counter there was a rectangular clock with digits written on cards that replacedeach other as time went past.Underthe time marker there was another which, indicated the day and the year – it showedexactly 19:28 of June 04, 1978.After staring at it briefly, León continued to drink from his glass. He sipped the liquor in short glugs and savoured it for a few moments. After swallowing, he let air enter his mouth while pasting his tongue against the palate.