The Free World

The prison gate shut behind Zack, and silence hit him. He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. The air smelled like dust and burnt asphalt. Everything he owned fit into a black garbage bag. He scanned the desolate parking lot casting his eyes upon a solitary blue pickup truck.

He had considered calling some of his old friends to come and get him, but being in their company always carried the risk of unwanted police attention. Zack wasn't going to get himself arrested for the fourth time. It was time to find new friends or fend for himself.

A car honked, and the door of the blue truck opened. A lanky man with greying hair stepped out and waved. “Need a ride?”

Zack walked closer to take a better look at the stranger.

“Dad?”

The man gave out a short laugh. “No, I’m afraid your parents don’t give a shit about you.”

“How is that funny?”

“I've got a dark sense of humor.”

Zack stopped a few feet away. “Who are you?”

“I’m Charles, and I came to give you twenty thousand dollars. Now get in.”

They drove for almost two hours before stopping in front of a modern brown building surrounded by trees. At the entrance stood a sign that read ‘Homer’s Retirement Home’.

“Did you bring me here to teach me a lesson about being on my deathbed and regretting the life I wasted in prison? So that I’d… start behaving like a responsible adult?” Zack chuckled. “Give me a break.”

“No,” said Charles, “we’re visiting a friend.”

The friend turned out to be a frail old man with white hair and thick glasses who looked like he could tell stories from World War One. He sat in an armchair, knitting mittens.

“Hello, Will,” said Charles, waving his hand in front of the man’s eyes. An enormous smile spread across his face. Will put aside his knitting and stood up to hug the visitor. “This is Zack,” Charles continued.

Will turned to Zack and reached out his hand to greet him.

“Will loves meeting new people,” said Charles. “He has a lot to say even though he can’t speak… and hear. But he can read your lips.”

“So that’s the hook. You’ll give me the money only if I come here and entertain a lonely deaf man?”

“You don’t have to come here. But look how happy he is just because someone came to see him. Doesn’t that make you feel good? Like you are helping yourself by helping him?”

“Am I supposed to get high on somebody else’s happiness?”

Charles took a deep breath. “Let’s take a walk.”

They went out into the garden and sat on a bench with Will between them. He kept on knitting. Charles opened a pack of peanuts, ate one, and threw another one toward a tree, which stood on the other side of the path.

“Want some?” He held the bag in front of Zack.

Zack shook his head. “So you just woke up one morning and decided to give a heap of cash to a criminal?”

“I’m helping other people by preventing you from hurting them.”

Zack laughed. “What?”

“Every crime has a victim. You’ve been to prison three times, so odds are good you’ll screw up again unless something big happens. I don’t know if you realize it, but by selling drugs or breaking into someone’s house, you hurt quite a lot of people. By stopping you from going back to your old life I’m also stopping you from creating more victims.”

“And you think money is what’s gonna do the trick?”

“It might in your case.” Charles threw another nut. A squirrel ran down the tree and took it.

“So what, I’m the chosen one? Aren't you a little scrawny to be Hagrid?”

“Who?”

Zack reached for the bag and grabbed peanuts. “Why me?”

“You’ve never worked a normal job, have no experience, no support, but what you do have is a rich criminal record. You’re set to fail. But you’re not evil... there’s empathy somewhere in there. You just need a push in the right direction.”

“You still didn’t tell me where the hook is,” Zack said and threw the peanut to the squirrel.

“You are not going to keep the money forever. You’ll get yourself a life, and once you’re ready, you’ll pass it on to someone else. Someone in the same situation you’re in right now. Someone who isn’t a complete piece of garbage.”

“What if I don’t?”

“You’ll ruin the lives of many people, including yours, and also destroy the legacy.” Charles reached into his jacket and pulled out a small black notebook. “This will give you more answers,” he said and took out his wallet. “Here’s the debit card and the PIN.”

Zack opened the notebook and began to read.

There were six stories from six different people. The oldest one dated back to 1955 and was written by a guy named Gary, who struggled to survive after getting out of prison. But one day, he received two thousand dollars from his childhood friend and used it to start his own publishing company. A few years later, he came across a manuscript, which became a bestseller, and Gary made more money than ever. He decided to pay his friend back, but instead, the friend said, “pass it on to someone who could use it.”

Gary then wrote, “There are millions of reasons why people turn to crime, and I don’t know if this will actually work for you as it did for me. I just hope you try your best and think about the people you could help in the future by passing on the money together with this book. Let these stories be an inspiration to you when times get tough and a reminder that there is a better life.”

A tap on the shoulder pulled Zack out of his hyperfocused state. Will was holding a pair of green mittens, gesturing to Zack to take them.

“Oh, thanks. Where’s Charles?” he said. The squirrel was also gone.

Will waved and held an imaginary wheel as if saying “he left.”

Zack took a taxi to the town and raced straight toward the ATM. The monitor showed exactly $20 000. He withdrew a hundred to make sure it worked. He stood there, holding the five twenty-dollar bills, and stared at them as if they should dissolve at any moment.

“Got any change?”

He turned with a jerk. A homeless man sat on top of his sleeping bag with a can in front of him. Zack handed him one of the bills.

“No way! Thank you.”

He also pulled the green mittens out of his bag. “Take these too. Should be useful in winter.”

Determined and inspired by the stories written in the black notebook, Zack had no doubt his life would change for the better. The twenty thousand would cover him for a long time, which gave him a chance to focus on discovering his talent.

But time passed, and rejections from employers piled up. When he finally got a job, they fired him within five days after an incident with a customer.

“What do you mean you don’t know if you have coffee filters?” said the woman suffering from caffeine withdrawal. “You work here!”

“I’m sorry,” said Zack, “I’m new.”

“And what? They didn’t train you?”

“They did, but I don’t remember where every single item is.” He forced out a short giggle to hide any signs of the desire of smacking the woman with the can of beans he was holding.

“Can’t you find out? I mean how hard could it be?”

“Oh you’re right, it’s definitely easier than stopping myself from calling you a ‘bitch’. Oh no, sorry, forgot my filter at home.”

While his co-workers found the bad joke hilarious, his manager had a different opinion.

The woman was right about one thing… How hard was it to do a simple job?

He found another job a month later, but when his supervisor called him slow for the thousandth time, he kicked a bucket of dirty water and threw the mop at the red-faced man.

“You’re fired.”

“No shit.”

Zack spent another two weeks sending resumes and going to interviews, but his phone stayed quiet and his email received nothing but spam. Until one day, a message came in. Adrenaline filled his veins as he opened it and read, “we are sorry to inform you that you’ve been rejected since you failed to follow the instructions on your application.” He punched a wall. Since the pain made him even angrier, he kicked a closet door.

Charles was wrong.

I need to get high, he thought. He had been living like an empty shell for six months, he deserved to have fun at least for a night or two. Zack called an old friend, who agreed to meet that evening and hook him up.

As he sat on the bus and stared out of the window, more thoughts raced through his head. Should he just enjoy the money for now and figure out the rest later? He had learned from his mistakes, so sure they wouldn’t catch him again. Plus, it wasn’t his fault that some idiot thought it was a good idea to give twenty grand to a felon and rely on his moral compass.

When the bus pulled over, the door opened, and a cold breeze flew in. Outside, a homeless man wrapped in a blanket sat on the sidewalk holding a can. Zack laughed and rubbed his face. A criminal received twenty thousand dollars, while a homeless guy had to beg for a quarter in freezing weather, relying on some old mittens to keep his hands warm. He set up to make sure he saw properly. Were those Will’s mittens? The bus set itself in motion again.

He got off at the next stop and stood still, watching the bar across the street where his friend was supposed to be waiting. The image of Will's excited face flashed in his mind, and a warm sensation filled his stomach. Zack stared at the bar for almost a minute, watching people going in and out.

Money was never the problem, he told himself, I’m the problem.

When a taxi arrived and dropped off three girls, he rushed toward it and hopped in.

“Are you free?” he said to the driver.

“Where are you going?”

Will was sitting in his chair, just like six months ago, knitting something that looked like a sock. When he spotted Zack, his face lit up, and he welcomed him with a hug. Will motioned toward the bed and held up a finger as if saying “wait”. He walked away and a minute later came back with two cups of tea. He put them on the table, grabbed his knitting kit, and gave it to Zack.

“You want to teach me? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Will nodded and insisted that he took it.

Two years passed. Zack clocked out from his shift and walked to Will’s room.

“I gotta go now, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Will nodded and gave him a thumbs up. Working in the home as a caretaker didn’t pay much, but the online shop he and Will had set up to sell their knitted stuff added some extra money.

Zack parked the car and checked his phone. Another order for a mini eagle came in. The first time he tried knitting an eagle, it turned out to look like a potato with wings and eyes, but for some reason, the internet found it adorable. Zack pulled out his kit and started working on the bird as he waited for the prison gate to open.