Zombie"

Even ordinary people should have big dreams.

There were days when loneliness was unbearable for Janek. The small apartment became a prison for him, and escape was the only worthwhile goal. Then he would start his old car and drive away. Just like that, along the roads of the Bieszczady Mountains, away from the concrete apartment blocks and people who couldn't even talk to each other.

The rusty car held a secret. Sometimes it became a sailing ship, in which he traversed the South Pacific. Then he visited sleepy islands of the South Seas, cruised taverns, drank wine, and sang sailor's songs. Other times it revealed itself as a racing car, in which he won prizes on the world's most famous tracks. And always, somewhere nearby, there was a certain blue-eyed girl with long blond hair covered by a straw hat.

On another gloomy day, Janek set off, as usual, on his journey to nowhere. This time, his car became a light aircraft. He heard the roar of the engine, saw the blue sky above him, billowing white clouds, and through the open window, green meadows and the endless plains of Africa. Everything was so real that he didn't notice the large truck that had come around the bend too quickly and was now hurtling straight towards him. He didn't even hear the screech of the bodywork being crushed, nor did he feel the ripped sheet metal cutting deep into his flesh. He died in an instant, and the ambulance doctor couldn't understand why the dead boy was still smiling.

The Brossa campsite on the Solina River is nestled between a lake and a sharp-topped hill called "Three Tits" by sailors. A wooden house and a few huts with bunks are all the owner has to offer guests. Access is only possible by water, via the owner's tin barge, powered by a terribly rumbling, smoky engine from an old threshing machine.

Anna spent her summers here. She had blue eyes and long, fair hair, which she covered with a straw hat. In good weather, she spent her days lounging in the meadow, right on the lakeshore, counting the white clouds that lazily drifted across the sky. The roar of the waves, the wind-swaying grass, and the sun's warmth absorbed her completely.

Evening was approaching. She left the cottage and headed toward the lake. She walked along a narrow path that led to a cliff several meters high. Below, the bluish-blue surface of the lake shimmered, rippled by the evening breeze. A few late-arriving sailboats glided slowly across the water, and wisps of smoke rose from the opposite shore. From there came the sounds of chopping wood and the clatter of dishes.

They're preparing dinner, she thought.

She sat down on a fallen log, just above the water. Just then, the rumble of an engine shattered the early evening silence. It faded, grew louder, until she finally saw a small plane emerge from behind the hill. The plane circled for a moment, then descended and came in for a landing. The vast meadow between the forest wall and the escarpment served as a makeshift airport. There was even a long pole with a striped sleeve stuck into the ground, indicating the wind direction. The plane settled softly on the grass and slowly taxied toward her. She stopped, and a man jumped out of the cockpit onto the grass. He was dressed in worn denim pants and a checked flannel shirt.

As he walked toward her, the silhouette seemed familiar. The movements, the tilt of his shoulders, but looking into the sun, she recognized him only from a distance of a dozen or so meters.

"Janek, is that you?" she exclaimed, surprised.

The man froze, stared at her for a moment, then finally raised both hands in greeting.

"Is that you, Ania? Every spirit praises God..." he exclaimed, clearly delighted. He walked over and embraced her in greeting.

"Where did you come from?" she asked as soon as he released her.

"What do you mean, where? From there..." He pointed to the sky and looked at her with smiling eyes.

It sounded like a joke, but he couldn't tell her everything: about that road, the car, the truck, the accident, and above all, that he had just returned, that he was starting it all over again...