Botanica Blues (3 page)

It makes my throat tighten up to hear it. It’s bigger than that but countering terrorism wins elections, it’s what people understand. My soup smells good but I don’t care. “It’s bigger than terrorism,” I say. My jaw hurts, I’ve been clenching it so tight. “It’s bigger. It’s more terrifying than people hating us or what we have. It’s makes....” I can’t even talk. I put my face in my hands and rub. I need a shave, I need a shower. I need to eat but I’ve got no appetite. I feel sick.

“I’d ask if you told Hunts this but I know the answer,” Yang said. She reaches across the small table with her chopsticks, putting dumplings on her plate. Yang can eat. It’s one of the reasons I like her but right now all I can think about is how much of a lunatic I must seem to her.

“I told him, I told him,” I said. “But it doesn’t matter what I say, Garrett’s got an agenda and they don’t believe me.”

“Maybe you should join the force officially, you know?” Yang says. I shake my head and roll my eyes. We’ve had this talk before.

“I don’t want to do all that bullshit paperwork and jump through their hoops and their games, Angie. Fuck, I want to help people out and all they want to do play their stupid games. Twelve people are dead, one person is responsible and they’re more interested in tying it to al-fucking-Qaeda for a quick nod in the polls than knowing what’s really going on.”

“Terrorism isn’t a game, Lou.”

“In comparison it’s a fucking joke. You weren’t there.” I stop talking. I stop yelling. It’s quiet in the restaurant. Everyone is looking at me, I know it. Yang is staring at me. She puts some money on the table, more than what the food is worth and she grabs me by the arm and pulls me out of the restaurant, gingerly. I let her. I don’t want to be there anymore anyway.

We get outside and it’s hot and humid. Storm clouds are rumbling on the other side of the river. I can hear them. I wonder what it would be like to get hit by lightening, right there. Yang looks me over, like a patient, like one of her cadavers. “Luis, what’s going on? What’s going on with you?”

I throw my hands in the air and I pace the block. It’s late so no one is around. Just the people in the noodle shop and a few cars passing by. “I know what’s going on, Angie, I’ve seen it before. I know what they were doing or I’ve got an idea. I saw it when I was in the service.”

“You...” Yang looks at me like I’m growing a horn out the middle of my head. “What?”

“I’ve seen it. I know who it is, what they’re doing, what they think they’re doing. It’s not terrorists, not that kind. It’s terror but not the kind that comes from being shot in your bed or blown up when you go out for coffee. That might send you home, might get you off the sidewalks. No, this is real terror. This is the sky trying to take a bite out of your mind. It gets you off the streets and crying in your room, in the dark and it follows you there. You can’t ignore it. You can't forget it. You can’t shoot it. It...” I don’t have any words left. Angie looks afraid. The thunder rumbles.

“Look...I...I think I got too close on this case,” I manage. I think of Martin. I wonder what he would say if I showed him the books.

“I think maybe...yeah.” She goes into her pocket and pulls out her wallet. It has flowers on it, pink and black. She pulls out a card and hands it to me. “Look, Luis, you’re a good investigator. We need people like you. Maybe you should...see someone.” I take the card from here. A name is on it. Someone with a Ph.D. A therapist. “You have to help yourself before you can help others.”

I look at the card long enough so that she thinks I’ll call the guy and I put it in my front pocket. “Okay,” I say. Okay to what, I don’t know. “Okay.” I say it again. I can’t look at her anymore. I feel like an asshole for blowing up like that. Like a fool for telling her so much. And afraid because of what I said and how I know it’s true. I think about the twelve bodies in the room and the hot sand in the Middle East. I think about the sky and its terrible bite.

“Let me get you a cab,” she says and before I can protest she hails one and stuffs me inside. I lean back in the seat, tired. She waves to me and I nod before I give the cabbie the address, not bothering to buckle my seat belt before he speeds away.

I don’t go home, not right away. I get to Danny’s botanica right as he’s about to turn the sign. He looks happy to see me. He opens the door, still dressed in white. “I thought you might show up.”

“You did?” I step inside and smell the familiar aromas. Thunder rumbles behind me and he closes the door, flipping the sign and locking the door for now.

“Yeah. I saw the news.”

“Oh.” I feel the smile fall off my face. “Dan, I tried, man, I really did.”

“I know.” He shrugs, arranging some of the statues on the shelf. “Tied it to Puerto Rican nationalists working with underground terrorist cells.”

I wince. Why Garrett went with that, I don’t know.

“The news was crazy about it. You should have seen the guy’s room.” Danny goes behind the counter and opens the fridge, pulling out two sodas. He hands me one and twists his open, the fizz of the carbonation loud in the quiet store. “That guy was into some crazy shit.”

“I know,” I say. I know. I don’t know if Danny really knows. I know Garrett and Hunt don’t really know. It gives me a chill. “But hey, you’re off the hook.” It’s the only thing I can offer to lighten the mood.

“For now,” he said. He smiles and takes a swig of his soda. “You should go home though, Luis,
Hermana
Avila was here looking for you earlier.”

“My grandma?” I whistle. My grandma doesn’t approve of me helping the religious minorities. She thinks they’re evil. She’s an old lady though so I assure her I’ll be safe and go on my way. She must have really wanted to find me. “Yeah, it’s late. I just wanted to stop by and tell you I’m off the case. Now that it’s not a religious matter.”

“Yeah. I figured.” He takes another sip of his soda and laughed. “Next time, right?”

I laugh and walked towards the door, hearing him snap the lights off behind me. “Yeah, next time. See you, Danny.” I let myself out and crack open the soda, hearing the rumble of thunder and the clatter of the metal shade of Danny store being pulled down.

I get home and my grandma is already asleep. There’s a plate of food in the oven so I finish it off in front of the TV with my soda, the television turned low so I don’t wake her up. Some cartoons are on, stupid ones. I watch them anyway. I could do with something stupid.

My phone beeps. I know who it is before I even pull it out.

[You get home ok?]

[Mugged by feral hobos on St. Antony's] I type. I smear grease on the screen. I don’t care, I laugh at my own stupid joke.

[Haha. Take care. Call if you need anything.]

[Thx] I type. I add [Goodnight] before I hit send and set the phone on the table. I don’t feel like lying in my bed so I put my plate in the kitchen and curl back up in the chair. I watch stupid cartoons until I fall asleep. Something about some kids making stupid videos and octopuses.

“Happy Birthday, Francisco,” I say, handing him a card. He’s just a kid so he’s probably wondering where the present is. I smile apologetically as he frowns, opening the card. He smiles when he sees the gift card inside. $50. Not a bad haul when you’re nine.

My sister’s got the AC pumped up too high so when I sit on the couch it feels cold and uncomfortable. I cringe as I settle into the leather cushions, holding my beer. The food smells good and my sisters’ kids are all running around and whooping and carrying on while some of the older kids play some video game on the TV. I’m not into video games. I gave one of these kids a book for their last birthday and they looked at me like I was fucking nuts. Damn kids.

“When is
abuela
going to be here, Luis?” my sister asks.

“I don’t know, Hilda,” I say, exasperated after the fifth time.

“I don’t know why you didn’t bring her with you,” Merna says. She’s eating a plate of food, her huge belly looking like it might pop at any moment. She's on her fourth kid and her third plate.

“Because I wasn’t going to take her to see a dead body on the way, jeez.” I got a call to consult on a pair of bodies found in East Park. Ritual suicide. Great way to start the morning. I take a sip of my beer. “She said she would be fine taking the train. She’s been taking the public transportation longer than you’ve been alive.”

“It’s faster to take the train than to drive,” Gilbert says. He’s my cousin. I point to him. At least he has some sense.

“I heard that new building on 23rd and Riverside is taking housing applications,” Merna says, finishing her plate. Not this again.

“Hey, when’s the cake going to be here?” I yell towards the kitchen.

“Nando is bringing it from the bakery, he should be back soon!” Delia comes out of the kitchen, smiling. My favorite sister. I’m allowed to have a favorite. Especially when the other two are so damn annoying. At least they're not asking me if I’m dating anyone anymore.

Something rumbles off in the distance and for a moment I think it’s more thunder, another summer storm rolling in. But this rumble isn’t the same. It’s more than the sky. I swear I feel the building shake. An earthquake? I look at my family members and all of us look at each other, not saying anything. I walk over and look out the window.

My phone shakes and I pull it out while staring, sliding my finger across the screen and finally look at the message. It’s from Yang.

[Turn on the news]

“Turn on the news,” I croak, staring out the at scene. To the south I see it. A cloud. Black and brown, still surging in the hot, thick summer air. The windows are already closed but I can see the trees whipping around. The sky is green like an old bruise, sick and twisted. The clouds are simmering in the sky and I hear my sisters shouting at the kids to turn off the damn video game, shouting for the remote. Then they gasp. I know what’s on the television. I don’t want to see it. But I turn and walk over.

It’s the news. They’re reporting an explosion in downtown, massive. A huge storm is making it difficult for any helicopters to get in but the crater is estimated to have a two to three block radius. The power station by the Drive is on fire. I see flames dancing in the background. Steam rises off the ground. The reporter chokes and a wind whips across him, making him fall to the side.

“
Abuela
,” Delia gasps. I grab my jacket and I don’t listen to their encouragements or protests. I leave the apartment, the metal door closing with a slam behind me. I think I tell them all to stay put.

The lights in the building flicker three times and then die, another rumble from outside laughing at the darkness within the building. I take the stairs, wishing I had my flashlight. People are standing in their doorways. I flash my badge at them. “Stay inside,” I order them. They don’t know it’s not a police badge. I’m just a private investigator but they can’t see in the dark and the doors close and slam. I hear their locks click shut. Stay inside, I tell myself but I can’t.

It’s hot outside and if hell has a sky it looks like this. Green and surging with clouds of black and gray. The wind is whipping around, the trees lining the street shaking and I hear a branch cracking. I watch the sky as I run to my car, other people staring up at the sky too, mouths hanging open, gasping, crying, praying.

I see it. The hole in the sky. Like a wicked smile. The clouds boil over it, obscuring it but I can see it. I know it’s there. I know what Hernandez did, how he set the load and the fuel in that basement with the twelve and then had the fuse somewhere else. And it blew. The ritual set the keg and he lit the thing to blow before the cops took him in. I know that now, now that the keg has blown. I didn’t know it yesterday when I was too pissed off from being kicked off the team, or yelling at Yang or talking to Danny. Danny. Fuck, Danny. He’s probably dead. I pull open the door of my car, opening my glove compartment. My gun spills out onto the floor and I pick it up and put it in the seat.

The clouds still billow up ahead and I pull out, a passing car almost sideswiping me as I back out. I curse at the car and pull into the street. My hands are shaking on the wheel. My grandma probably left before this all happened. She might be trapped in a subway tunnel but that’s it. She’s probably alive. Danny, maybe he went to go visit his uncle’s grave today. Maybe. I drive with one hand as I fish for my phone with the other, scrolling through the numbers. I call Dan’s cell and get an automated voice. No connection. I growl at the phone and try Yang. Same thing. My grandma doesn’t even have a cell phone so I throw the phone to the floor of the car, not bothering to signal before I turn on the street.

I hit my steering wheel with both hands and curse. People are just parked in the street, standing outside, mouths open, stupid. Mesmerized by the cloud and the sky. I can’t be the only one who sees it, right? I roll down my window. “Get in your fucking cars and move!” I scream. I honk my horn. “Move, you stupid fucks!” I turn and see a Catholic priest, staring at me from the sidewalk. I yell at him. “Make them move, damn you!” He looks at me sadly. I groan at him and roll up my window.

I can’t be the only one who sees it. That has to be why they’re all staring, at the crack in the sky, the mouth. They all have to hear it. The wind is its terrible breathing, erratic and hot. The stench is from the sky, not the smoke. It’s not burning debris and bodies, it’s the reek of a place within, a place that is terrible and chews with broken teeth, with blazing hot stars. I lay down across my seat. They have to see it. I think of Martin, I see the hole in the sky. I find my gun in my hands. Cold and hard, mechanic. Ordered.

Through the windows of my car, pressing through the glass I hear the pandemonium. People are screaming. I hear them. Some are calling out. It’s only adding to the chaos. I hate it. I can see people walking past my car. Out the windshield I see the cloud, still steadily rising. The mouth is leering at me.

The gun is in my hands. I pull back the hammer.

I see my phone. I consider texting Yang or someone but what would I write?

I tumble off the seat as something hits my car hard from behind, tossing me forward onto the floor. Something slides out from under the seat. It’s the library books.