On a merchant Sunday, Tadeusz drove to the garden center by the airport to purchase a seedling of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. He was not a Christian, not even religious, although he didn’t consider himself a strict nonbeliever either. The idea that God existed, any god, made little sense to him. But he couldn’t honestly claim that some god didn’t exist either, so he kept an open mind. Someone had once defined his stance as agnostic atheism, and that label was okay with him. So, when he saw a newspaper ad for the Tree of Knowledge seedlings, he went for it. They were on sale.
The parking lot at the garden center was packed solid. Merchant Sundays, when all stores were allowed to be open, were the worst days to go shopping. But it was the only free day Tadeusz had this month, and it was his last chance to plant anything in his allotment garden before summer got underway.
He drove around the lot three times without finding a parking space. The few times he was close, another car would come out of nowhere and beat him to it. So, finally, Tadeusz adopted another tactic. He positioned himself in a strategic spot of one aisle, and waited. His vantage point afforded him a panoramic view of the lot. He could also see the planes taking off and landing behind the building. Every thirty seconds, or so.
He watched planters, rattan chairs, parasols, shovels, and bags upon bags of manure, compost, or soil being loaded into trunks and back seats, he watched cars get lower with weight and leaving their spots, other cars pulling in, people getting out, then returning with carts full of whatever they deemed necessary to make their urban life more verdant. Unfortunately, they were all parked in different aisles. The cars in his aisle, it seemed, were orphaned.
About an hour into his wait, he spotted a tiny tropical island gliding in his direction. Tadeusz squinted, then realized it was a shopping cart loaded with plants. He couldn’t see the pusher, just the cart itself, filled beyond capacity with potted bushes and trees of all kinds. Unhurriedly, the island drifted closer and closer, finally mooring by a beat-up car. A small, bespectacled lady emerged from behind the foliage. She looked ancient, but spry. The lady swung her purse around to her belly and fished out a ring of keys. It took her a good minute to locate the one she needed to open the car.
Tadeusz stepped out of his car and approached the woman. “Can I help you with those, ma’am?” He reached for one of the potted plants. “Oh?” The lady acknowledged his presence with a quick up-and-down look. Then she smiled widely. Her irises were enormous behind the thick glasses. “Thank you, young man. That’s so kind of you. Thank you.” She opened the rear door. “Right here would be wonderful,” she indicated the back seat. “It’s okay if it gets messy. It’s okay.”
Tadeusz proceeded to transfer the plants. They were all tropical. Mostly different types of palms with long, blade-shaped leaves, and a few flowering plants in red and yellow. The only one he could name was philodendron. To fit them all in, Tadeusz had to roll down the windows. The plants were now sticking out in every direction. When he ran out of the back seat, the lady instructed him to put the rest in the passenger seat.
“I will return the cart for you, ma’am.” Tadeusz pulled a coin out of his pocket. “Here’s your deposit.” The old lady shook her head. “Keep it, young man. You’ve earned it.” She got into the driver seat. “Thank you again so, so much.”
“Can I ask you one thing?” said Tadeusz.
“Yes?”
“All those plants… You’re not going to plant them outside?”
“Oh, no, no, no.” She smiled serenely. “They go into my room.”
“Your room?”
“My room. In our apartment. I’m living with my sisters.”
“That’s a lot of plants for one room.”
“This is my third errand. And the last.”
“How big is your room, ma’am?”
“Oh, not that big. Maybe five meters.”
“Five meters squared?” Tadeusz jutted his jaw. “And this is your third batch of plants?”
Her smile turned into a lovely, wide grin.
“I intend to die in a tropical paradise, young man.”
With that, the lady started her car. Tadeusz stepped back without a word. He watched the car pull out and putter down the aisle. All the plants sticking out the windows waved goodbye with their long stems.
Tadeusz took the lady’s parking spot, locked his car, and started to push the empty shopping cart toward the garden store’s entrance.
It was a long way to the nursery section, as it turned out. Strategically located somewhere in the back of the store, it was only accessible through a maze of towering shelves. Each aisle featured all kinds of loosely related paraphernalia. Shoppers were everywhere. There were traffic jams, several bumper-to-bumper collisions, and hellish bottlenecking at each of the nine checkouts. Tadeusz navigated with the skill of a Sunday driver, and it took him another fifteen minutes to realize that he’s gone around twice in a big circle. He needed to regroup.
The information booth had a huge line, so he skipped it. He tried to locate one of the store’s attendants, but he managed to spot only one, way up on a forklift, affixing a wooden crossbar to one of the support beams. So, Tadeusz continued to tread dutifully, hoping for a visual clue to the nursery.
Around the pruning tool section, he was nearly side-swiped by a boy on a tricycle. The kid couldn’t be older than five. His knees pumped like pistons and he had a petrified look on his face. The boy zoomed past him, suddenly leaned to the right, took a ninety-degree turn, and disappeared behind the lawnmower display. Within seconds, a balding man with big thighs bumped into Tadeusz, nearly tripping him over.
“Where is he?!” The man grabbed onto Tadeusz’s cart. His eyes were bloodshot. “Did you see a kid ride by?” he panted. “Did you see him?! Well, did you?!” The man’s head was bobbing left and right. His hands shook the cart violently. “C’mon, man, say something!” Instinctively, Tadeusz pointed in the opposite direction to where the kid went. The man did a quick squat, holding on to the cart. Then, he pushed off with a prolonged “Ughrrr…” emitting from his mouth. Tadeusz shrugged, and pressed on. He peeked into the garden machinery isle, but the kid was long gone. Something else caught his attention.
A man in oily overalls was testing chainsaws. He was tall and solidly built, with big hairy arms. He held a chicken bone in his hand. Pausing in front of each chainsaw, the man tapped the bone against its jagged-edge blade. Tadeusz thought it made sense. Clearly, one could not start up a chainsaw in a store. Testing its sharpness with a bone seemed logical. “Okay,” concurred Tadeusz, as he passed by. The man turned. He had the face of a baby. An innocent, puffy face with small, beady eyes and full, almost fat lips. The lips were glistening. They smiled. Without taking his eyes off Tadeusz, the big guy grabbed another chainsaw and tapped the bone hard against the teeth of the blade. The bone stuck in. The man licked his lips, put the chainsaw back on the rack, and walked away. The bone remained stuck to the tool. “Well, okay, then,” Tadeusz confirmed the end of the test and turned the corner.
The hint he was looking for came in the shape of another old lady. She was pushing a cart full of potted daisies. They were all powder blue.
“Excuse me, is the nursery back the way you come from?” Tadeusz asked.
The lady paused and lifted her head. She looked very familiar.
“The what now?” she cupped her hand over her ear.
“The nursery,” he repeated a bit louder. “Is it that way?” He pointed behind her.
“Oh?”
“Where did you get these plants, ma’am?” he almost yelled.
“From the nursery,” she answered nervously. “But I’m going to pay for them.”
“Of course. Of course you are.” Tadeusz inhaled deeply. “Ah, never mind. Thank you.”
He started to walk away, but the lady grabbed his arm.
“Don’t you think they’re beautiful?”
“Excuse me?”
“The daisies. They are so… peaceful.”
“Uhm, yes, yes indeed. Very peaceful. And very blue.”
“It’s like looking at the sky, isn’t it?” Her grip on Tadeusz’s arm suddenly tightened.
“Do you think I’ve got enough?”
“Enough of what, ma’am?”
“Of my blue daisies.”
“Er, enough for what?”
“Why, for my grave, of course.”
Tadeusz didn’t see that coming. He stood there, mute.
“I think they’re lovely. It will be like looking up at the sky,” she marveled. Then she put her other hand on his arm. “Do you think I have enough?”
“Yes. I think you have plenty.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Because, you know, this is my last trip here.”
Suddenly, her hands unclutched Tadeusz’s arm. She heaved her shoulders and gave the cart a push. “This is my last trip,” her voiced trailed away.
Tadeusz continued to stand for a few seconds, processing the encounter. Finally, he said to himself, “Alright,” and began to retrace the old lady’s footsteps.
Shortly, he came across a massive display of paint cans arranged in the shape of a pyramid. Big, five-liter cans. They were stacked by color, in a rainbow pattern. The base of the pyramid was purple, or maybe violet, he could never tell the difference. The next layers of cans tapered upward through indigo blue, a lighter blue, teal, green, yellow, and orange. The apex was all red. The whole structure was over three meters tall. Next to it, the store set up a color tester station. Behind its counter, a young woman sat motionless, ready to mix any combination of hues one desired. Her complexion was olive. On the desk, there were multiple jars of paint, color charts, and swatch samples with code numbers. None of it bore any signs of activity or usage. The woman’s arms were resting on the counter, palms down. The tips of her fingers were curled toward the desk. They were slightly elevated by black talon nails. She looked straight ahead with big almond-shaped eyes that blinked very slowly. Tadeusz couldn’t decide if her expression was that of puzzlement or plain boredom. The whole scene looked precarious. He was tempted to ask her about the nursery, but somehow, he felt that would upset the pyramid’s balance.
“Excuse me! Coming through!” he heard off in the near distance. It was two employees carrying a big cardboard box perched on two long wooden bars. They were approaching fast. The man in front was very short. The poles were resting on his shoulders. “Thank you. Coming through!” The back man was giant. To keep the operation horizontal, he held the poles below his waistline. The duo walked nimbly, slaloming between the shoppers with ease. The box swayed left and right, but remained leveled between the bearers. It all happened rather quickly, and Tadeusz didn’t make out the label on the box. It was the size of a small fridge, or a dishwasher perhaps. As the palanquin was rounding the pyramid, he noticed some round holes near the top of the box. Behind one of them, there was a glistening eye looking straight at him. “Help meeee,” someone squeaked.
“Help meeee, mister,” the squeaky voice repeated. Tadeusz felt a tug on his pantleg. He looked down. It was the tricycle boy. Without the tricycle. Before Tadeusz could react, the boy climbed into his empty cart. His tiny hands clang to the basket mesh. He was looking around with terror in his eyes.
“Uhmm, kid?” Tadeusz said. “Kid, I don’t think this is a good idea.”
The look on the boy’s face changed to utter panic.
“Okay, okay, it’s all gonna be fine, just relax,” Tadeusz yielded. He looked around, but couldn’t locate the balding father, or whoever the boy was evading. He pushed the cart into the paint supplies aisle and found a packet of drop cloth. He quickly ripped it open and covered the boy. The plastic sheeting was transparent, but Tadeusz bunched it up enough to conceal the cargo. “I’m only going to give you a short ride, kid, so don’t get excited. I can get in trouble for this,” he warned, and covered the boy’s now smiling face. “I got enough trouble as it is,” he concluded under his breath.
Emerging out of the paint department, Tadeusz noticed some encouraging signs. More and more items seemed related to actual gardening. He was now passing a large display of hoses. Some were hung on hooks in massive coils, others were neatly wrapped around crank-winding reels. Suddenly, the cart bumped and stopped. The wheels squeaked. The boy peeked out with concern.
“Relax, kid,” said Tadeusz softly. “It’s just a hose.” He bent over and yanked out a loop of yellow tubing from under the wheel. The hose must have unwound from one of the reels. It snaked around the legs of the self and into the aisle. Tadeusz shook the head of the hose over the kid. “See? It’s not gonna bite you. Relax. And go under.” He couldn’t discern from which reel the hose came, so he tossed it back down and kicked it under the shelf. The hose hissed out a faint breath of air.
The subsequent shelves contained all kinds of spigots and extension valves. They sparkled with gold and silver finishing. Tadeusz marveled at the opulence of the selection, as his own garden hose was an old tube of black rubber affixed to the rusty faucet with wire. The sprinklers on display were getting more and more complex, ending with an omnidirectional scarab-shaped unit. Tadeusz paused to check its price. It was way out of his range.
Encouraged by the hydraulic merchandise, Tadeusz kept going, hoping to see actual flora at any moment. He was definitely on the right track. The shelf maze yielded to a more open space populated by garden furniture. There were mock setups of backyard arrangements, with picket fences, picnic tables, hammocks, and all kids of joys for the whole family. Even small swings. Through the crowd, Tadeusz saw some people inside one of those zones. They seemed to be blissfully testing its features. Out of sheer curiosity, he detoured a bit to inspect the situation. As he came closer, he noticed that the family of testers was strangely inert. The hammock, supporting what he assumed was the grandfather, was not swinging. Grandma was dormant in a wicker chair. The shapely wife paused with her plate in mid-air. The husband, unusually slim, held his arm frozen with a barbecue fork. It looked like he was about to stab something. He stood incredibly still next to a massive gas grill.
The bucolic backyard diorama was arranged with mannequins. To make it more lifelike, the floor was lined with synthetic grass. There was also smoke rising from the grill. Tadeusz saw a few sticks of incense stuck between its iron ribs. The display designer’s attention to detail was impressive. The far side of the backyard even had a real wooden fence. It was flush with the building’s window. The view outside gave the whole presentation a sense of depth. Tadeusz’s eyes wandered above the pickets and through the window. He saw the top of another fence on the outside, off in the distance. It was crowned with thorns of barbed wire. “Must be the airport grounds,” he thought. On cue, a landing plane whizzed by.
Tadeusz’s eyes returned to the diorama. Just now, he noticed a baby on the fake turf. It was lying on a small, ornate Persian carpet. The baby was a very large doll. It had cherubically blond, curly hair and was apparently naked under a blanket. The blanket featured a map of the night sky. One of the doll’s plump arms was raised toward the ceiling. “Nice touch,” thought Tadeusz. He lifted the edge of the drop cloth. “Look, kid. Look at this.” The boy’s head peeked out. “Look at the little guy. He’s counting his lucky stars.” The boy looked. It took him a moment to locate the baby doll on the ground. Suddenly, his eyes enlarged. “What do you think he’s gonna be when he grows up?” joked Tadeusz. The boy’s lips quivered, then turned into a wolfish scowl. Tadeusz saw that. A strange sound came out of the boy’s mouth. It was low and guttural. Then, just as suddenly, the boy covered himself and curled up. The drop cloth was trembling. “Okay, okay. Sorry, kid, sorry. I didn’t want to bring back any memories.” Tadeusz exhaled. “We’re going, now. We’re going.”
Tadeusz picked up the pace. To his surprise, the crowds were thinning out. He pushed the cart confidently past a colonnade of pergolas. He felt the light and shadow flip-flop on his face as he passed the latticed structures. There were some rather ornate gazebos there, too. One in particular attracted Tadeusz with its frieze. It featured a floral motif that, somehow, he found irresistibly pleasing. But he resisted checking the price. His old garden shack was good enough for the purpose of shelter and relaxation.
At the end of that row, he stopped. He had to. Way in the corner lay the ruins of an even more impressive gazebo. It seemed like its entire roof had caved in. Only two beheaded columns remained standing. The other two shattered into a pile of debris. Tadeusz could tell from the detailing that the structure must have been once glorious. The disaster zone was taped off in the manner of a crime scene. “That’s a shame,” thought Tadeusz. “Real shame.” He assumed that it must have been an industrial accident. Maybe a drunk forklift driver, or something. Or maybe a capricious store decorator simply went nuts. Tadeusz shook his head at the thought and pressed on.
A large cargo door led him outside into a village. A village of tiny wooden homes. A ghost town. Under the sun. There was no main street. Confused, Tadeusz started to meander between the tiny buildings, looking for a way out. He must have looped around three times, but there was no exit. Only the entrance to where he came from.
He approached one of the bigger tiny homes, the one with an open window. He peeked in. Sure enough, there was someone lurking inside. He knocked. No answer. He knocked again.
“It’s open,” a hushed voice answered.
Tadeusz pulled on the door handle, lowered his head, and entered. Three individuals were huddled inside the dark, empty space. They were sitting on the floor cross-legged. It was hard to tell if they were normal size or tiny. Their faces were obscured by the hoods of their hoodies. A small cloud of smoke hovered above. Tadeusz smelled incense again, but this one was different.
“Sorry to bother you, but I’m lost,” he said shyly.
“Aren’t we all,” the same voice replied. “Come in, friend, come in. Find your own path.”
Tadeusz heard suppressed giggling.
“I’m trying to get to the nursery,” he explained, his eyes adjusting to the dark.
The hooded fellow cleared his throat.
“Looky here, looky there,
there’s no table, there’s no chair.
Take the floor, flip a coin,
you can leave us, you can join.”
The soloist extended his arm with something resembling a poorly rolled cigarette.
“I don’t smoke, thank you,” declined Tadeusz. “Just looking for the plant section…”
The man took a drag then passed the smoke to his companions.
“We don’t grow ‘em, we just smoke ‘em,” he quipped. More giggling ensued.
“Man, your hair looks like a lion’s mane,” observed another man, pointing at Tadeusz. “It’s beautiful. With that light behind you.”
“They sent in a lion for us.”
“Is it feeding time?”
All three burst into intractable laughter. Tadeusz slowly stepped back out of the crypt and closed the door as quietly as he could.
“Aaaa!” cried Tadeusz. The balding man came out of nowhere. His face was dripping with sweat.
“Is he in there?!” the man barked. He was breathing fast through his mouth.
“Who?”
“That evil kid.” He peeped into the tiny home window.
Tadeusz quickly glanced at his cargo. There was no movement under the drop cloth.
“He’s not in there,” he said to the man. “Just some young people. Smoking.”
“Yeah, I could smell it from way back.” He turned away from the window. “That’s some good shit.”
“Do you know where the nursery is?” Tadeusz redirected the conversation.
“Sure, just came from there.” The man leaned against the wall and exhaled. “It’s just behind that last row of tool sheds,” he pointed with a short wooden stake. Tadeusz hasn’t noticed that stake until now.
“Tool sheds? All these little houses are tool sheds?”
“What did you think they were? Homes for midgets?”
Tadeusz shrugged sheepishly. “They seem so big. For tool sheds.”
“The tools have gotten big.” His breath was stabilizing. “Everything has gotten big. Way, way too big.” Just then, Tadeusz noticed that his other hand was clenching a hammer. The price tag was still dangling off its handle. The man peeled off the wall. “I gotta get that demon before he inflicts some real damage.” And with that, he bolted back inside the store’s labyrinth.
Just like the man said, there was a passage way to the plant section behind the last row of tool sheds. Tadeusz didn’t blame himself for missing it earlier. It was an entirely separate building. He had seen it before, naturally, but he assumed it was one of the airport hangars. The entrance was well camouflaged for some reason. “A secret garden, indeed,” he thought. A lane of potted thujas led him to the nursery.
It was vast and very bright inside. Half of the roof was retracted. Tadeusz strolled along an alley of stacked pots and planters. The long, wooden ones reminded him of small coffins. Next came the weedkillers. In spray bottles, canisters, and even barrels. One section was labeled “ORGANIC HERBICIDES.” It made Tadeusz briefly ponder the idea of killing in a biologically friendly way.
“Excuse me, mister,” a firm female voice drew his attention. He paused and turned around. Off in the pest control nook stood another old lady. She was holding a blue-silver box with both hands. Her nails were scarlet.
“Excuse me, can you help me read this? The print is too small.”
“Of course.” Tadeusz let go of the cart and approached her. He was getting used to these chance meetings. He took the box into his hands and angled it toward the light. The front said “Granulated Mice and Rat Poison.”
“I just want to know the side effects,” she said blankly. “If ingested by humans.”
Tadeusz gave her a quizzical look.
“By mistake, of course,” she qualified her request. “You see, I live with my sisters, much older than me. Bad eyesight, bad hearing, you know, just old. I wouldn’t want anything to happen by accident…”
“Aha…” uttered Tadeusz. “Sisters?” he thought. That almost explained some of his earlier encounters. “Right, naturally. I know exactly what you mean.” He squinted at the back of the box. “Usage… warning… disclaimer, ah, there you go. Brodifacoum… Prevents blood clotting, leading to severe internal bleeding. Uhm… Difenacoum… also causes internal bleeding. Bromadiolone…”
“I don’t need the names, just tell me what happens,” she interrupted.
Tadeusz glowered at her from under his brow.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just sort of in a hurry. Please, go on, mister,” she said without a note of contrition.
Tadeusz sighed loudly, and continued.
“That last thing, that was, that was… wow! Another one for internal bleeding. Poor mice. Wait, there are two more.” He read while moving his lips silently.
“Yeees?” The lady was getting antsy.
“Okay, okay. All the ingredients do the same thing. They bleed you to death.”
She yanked the box out of his hands, cutting into his pinky with her nail.
“Ouch!”
“Thank you!” She tucked the box under her arm.
Tadeusz sucked on his stinging cut.
“Oh, did I hurt you?”
“No, no, it’s nothing.”
“Let me see,” she forced his hand down and assessed the damage. A little bit of blood trickled out of the wound. It was the same color as her nails. She pushed his hand away. “Nothing but a scratch. You’ll live.”
“Lucky it’s not internal bleeding,” he quipped, but the lady was already walking away. She had quite a spring in her step. For any age.
Sucking on his pinky, Tadeusz pushed the cart with his other arm. It wasn’t easy to keep it straight in the crowd. The nursery building was chock-full of customers. It was noisy. The monastic lull of the tool shed district was a distant memory now. But Tadeusz felt he was close to his destination. He could smell it.
The plant section, it seemed, had its own ecosystem. It was a sprinkler rainforest. In addition to all kinds of seedlings, there were hundreds of saplings, as well as actual trees. The big ones were really big. They weren’t full-grown, of course. But their sizes were considerable. In awe, Tadeusz circumnavigated a bulky Japanese black pine. It was rooted in a humongous wooden planter one meter deep. He could imagine it in a remote Zen garden, sprouting out of a dry landscape, with a monk raking his floating-world patterns in the gravel around it. The thought caused a wave of tranquility spill over his chest. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Do you have to stand here in the middle?” a gruff voice crashed through. “Hello?!”
Tadeusz inhaled deeply and opened his eyes. It was a family of three. Both adults were double the average size. The kid was not far behind. “You deaf, mister?” spat out the patriarch. “Move your cart!” Tadeusz obliged. “I’m sorry”. He yielded the way. The man uttered a whinny neigh, then started to pass by. “Tch, tch, tch,” vocalized the wife, and followed. She was pushing the shopping cart. Riding inside was their doughy offspring, probably a male. He was amorously holding on to the shaft of a titanic phallus-shaped plant. As they waddled away, Tadeusz had to cover his mouth and nose. The family was being trailed by a brief but overwhelming odor of rotting flesh.
He zigzagged deeper into the evergreen area and parked under a tall potted spruce. “Kid,” he said.” “Hey, kid!” There was no movement under the drop cloth. Apprehensively, Tadeusz reached for the edge of the plastic sheet. It was all steamy underneath. “You still there?” The boy was tucking his head under his arms. His back was arching with quick, shallow breathing. “End of the line,” Tadeusz said with relief.
The boy slowly lifted his head. Tadeusz pulled back. Something was different. The kid seemed ripened by his greenhouse ordeal. His hair was bushier and his eyebrows thickened. Sweat trickled down his furrowed forehead straight into his eyes. Yet, the boy didn’t blink. He snarled through clenched teeth. He looked feral.
And then, the kid pounced. With astonishing agility, he leapt from the cart onto the spruce. The tree bent with the action, then sprang back, ejecting the creature in the opposite direction. It flew over Tadeusz and disappeared into the thicket of evergreens.
“How about that?” shrugged Tadeusz. Frankly, he was getting a bit weary of all his adventures. All he wanted was a seedling. Of a simple tree. And now that his quest was coming to fruition, he really wished to be alone in the crowd. He resolved to pay no attention to anything or anyone from now on.
He pushed his empty cart until he couldn’t push any more. The foliage was too dense. Tadeusz left the cart behind and started to brave the thicket. He weaved and bobbed through blades of palm trees, bumped into oranges and lemons, braved thorny bushes and scratchy creepers flowering on trellises. Finally, he emerged into a clearing. His shopping cart was there.
Tadeusz leaned on the cart’s handle and hung his head. “Not another vicious circle, please,” he said to himself. Resigned, he sat down on the edge of a pot. A soft, bushy cypress offered him back support.
“Wooo-waah!” A piercing sound smacked his ears. It was a siren. Its pulsating howl was relentless. Tadeusz jumped to his feet covering his ears. Then, he heard a muted voice. He lowered his hands to hear better. Someone was talking over the loudspeakers.
“Please, proceed in an orderly fashion. There is no need for panic. It’s only a small fire.”
Tadeusz panicked. He started to run through the sapling forest.
“There is a small fire in the nursery area. We are evacuating all shoppers and personnel. Please, proceed to the exit.”
Tadeusz ran like mad, oblivious to branches and needles scratching his skin. He ran on pure instinct, without thinking. Somehow, he managed to run straight into the main aisle. He splashed into a river of people and went with the current.
“The fire department is on its way. Please continue to evacuate in an orderly fashion.”
There was smoke. The crowd flowed at a constant rate, swaying in tempo with the alarm siren. There were screams.
“What happened?!”
“Kazik! Kazik!”
“We’re all gonna die!”
“Julia!”
“I’m here, mom!”
“Kazik! Kazik!”
“Where are you, mom?!”
“…orderly fashion…”
“What happened?!”
“We’re gonna die!”
“Shut the hell up, woman!”
“It’s a man yelling, you idiot!”
“Will someone tell me what happened?!”
“…panic…”
“Why aren’t the sprinklers working?!”
“…under control…”
“We’re gonna die!”
“Shut the hell up, man!”
“Some kid set something on fire!”
“…to the exit…”
“Terrorists!”
“I saw a burning pumila!”
“…orderly fashion…”
“It was a dwarf with matches!”
“What’s a pumila?!”
“It was a kid, I tell ya!”
“I can’t breathe!”
“Kids are a terror!”
“Mom?!”
“What time is it?!”
Out of the billowing smoke, the crowd made it through the exit in one piece. The whole affair lasted no longer than two minutes. In the parking lot, people were already dispersing into family units. Nobody got hurt, it seemed.
Still stunned, Tadeusz stumbled toward the airport grounds. All he could see was the tarmac desert. Its dry yellow surface vibrated with heat. He walked face first into the chain link fence. The impact hurt, but also bounced him out of his stupor. Tadeusz took a deep breath and clasped the wire mesh. He exhaled. His nose hurt. Something rustled above. Tadeusz looked up, still a bit dazed. A big piece of translucent plastic was caught on the concertina wire. It fluttered in a fumy breeze. It looked familiar. Tadeusz chuckled, “That couldn’t be.”
He turned around and let his body slide down the fence. He was facing the garden center. There were no visible flames, only thick smoke. The other part of the store, the one where he entered, was intact. Only the nursery suffered. It turned into a large, oblong chimney, puffing grayish clouds into the sky.
It slowly dawned on Tadeusz that there had been no need whatsoever for him to meander through the other building to get to the nursery. It had its own entrance, after all. The one where the exodus took place. But he didn’t chide himself for the blunder. It was his first time here. It was an honest mistake. “One of those days,” he thought.
Four or five fire trucks arrived shortly, and began to hose down the building. Police cars and ambulances were everywhere. More sirens, more flashing lights, more yelling. The airport fire brigade showed up, too. They started to fire salvos of water from the other side of the fence. It was exhausting just to watch. Tadeusz tried to tuned it all out. He was drained.
He felt gravel under his palms. The border zone between the airport and the store’s parking lot was filled with small white pebbles. Whoever did the landscaping was very thorough. Give or take a few blades of wild grass, nothing managed to grow here. “Organic killer,” mused Tadeusz, gliding his hand over the skull-white pebbles.
As he was bracing to get up, his right hand brushed against something soft. He looked down to his side. A single dandelion was blooming there, between the stones. Its stem was nearly touching his waist. “Hey, I almost crushed you, little fella.” Tadeusz shifted a bit to the left. The movement caused some blood to trickle out of his nose. He wiped it off with his hand. Strangely, there was no pain. All the noise was gone, too. Tadeusz looked back at the dandelion. It was still there, staring at him defiantly.
Tadeusz smiled. With his bloody fingers, he started to rake the pebbles around the stem of the flower.
That's a wild trip!