Chapter 1: Oneshot

“After ten long years, I’m finally free from the system that seeks to enslave people like me.”

Exiting from a correctional facility, we meet him, his name isn’t important for he’ll be back soon enough for now know only of him as a Convict. Holding the door for him a male police officer looks at him with a sigh.

“Any idea what’s next?” The Officer says with a sigh.

“Finding my family.”

“Well, you’re a long way from California.”

“Yeah.”

The Officer and Convict look at each other but say nothing.

“Here. Take this, it isn’t right what they did to you. It isn’t much, but it’ll help you start.”

The Officer pulls out a hundred dollar bill for him.

“Thanks.”

“I’d give you a ride myself, but we’re too understaffed. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, I’ll walk.”

He gives him a wave as he begins to walk off.

“Oh, and one last thing, your pastor wanted me to give you this, said you’d understand.”

Just as the Convict is about to leave he turns around, taking a piece of paper.

On it, a phone number and a phrase.

‘If you miss your last stop. Ask for a friend with friends. Then say a friend of a friend sent you.’

He puts it away as he walks away.

___

Snow falls onto the ground around him, a rare sight in the Louisiana winter. Standing alone at a bus stop, he waits as a bus approaches from a distance.

Coming to a stop, the doors open as the Convict looks inside.

Inside, an old man looks back at him.

“This head to the greyhound?”

“You a convict?”

“Yeah.”

“Get in and sit in the back, I won’t charge ya.”

The Convict stops and stares at the others in the bus who look away from him. He walks inside.

He makes his way towards the back as he sits uncomfortably alone in the almost empty bus.

The bus continues along as the Convict stares blankly out the window.

Time passes as it makes its way back into the station.

It’s just him and the conductor who occasionally glances at him through the mirror.

“Last stop is just ahead.” He calls out.

“I don’t know how long it’s been, but it’s a whole new world out there. You might feel lost or confused, but I’m sorry, that’s just how it is. Look for a sign for the Greyhound terminal when you get inside, just head directly inside.”

The bus comes to a stop.

Getting up from his seat, the Convict yawns as he walks down the line.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The old man puts on a smile.

___

The sun is already setting as the Convict makes his way into the station. It's a wide but empty feeling, with enough space to feel as if multiple stories could fit. The station itself with only a few passengers waiting around.

Looking around, the Convict makes his way towards a kiosk with the name Greyhound above it.

At the kiosk is a single person, a woman who looks to be in her late 40s.

She looks up at him from her phone, she’s playing a game.

The Convict stares at it confused but also intrigued.

“Can I help you with something?”

He looks up at her.

“Ah, uh, ticket to Oakland please.”

“Oakland, huh? Visiting family?”

“Yeah.”

The lady begins to type into a keyboard next to a computer screen.

“You better hurry, there’s a winter storm coming in across the entire south. Crazy, huh. A snow storm here in Louisiana.”

She clicks her tongue.

“And they call it global warming.”

“Right. Is that a computer?”

The lady at the kiosk seems confused.

“Well yeah, not like the department pays for tablets. Anyways, the last bus for LA leaves in ten minutes.” She says uninterested.

The Convict begins to pull out the hundred dollar bill from his pocket.

“Your total will be 210 dollars.”

He stops.

“Is there an economy ticket?”

“Oh, sorry. They start at 210 dollars.”

She looks back at him.

He anxiously gives a small laugh.

“How far will a hundred dollars take me?”

She looks back at the screen as she searches and types away.

“Albuquerque.”

“What?”

“Albuquerque, New Mexico”

He sighs.

“New Mexico? Is there any way that you could help me out?” He pleads.

“I’m sorry sir, it’s all online, even if I wanted to, I can’t do anything.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll take it.”

The Convict places the hundred dollar bill on the kiosk.

“Your total is 104.93.”

The Convict winces in pain.

“But I’ll cover the rest for you.”

He looks up.

“Thank you. Thank you so much-”

She takes the ticket and hands it to him as he looks up.

“The bus will be leaving in five minutes, terminal 3, I’d hurry up if I were you.”

“Oh.”

He takes the ticket from her.

“Happy holidays.”

“Uh yeah, you too. Thank you!”

The Convict begins to run away from her as the lady smiles.

___

Running towards the bus, he sees it slowly begin to close its door as the convict raises his ticket up into the air.

“Wait! Wait!”

He collides with the bus as he slams onto the door, the conductor looks over at him before opening up the door.

“Ticket.”

The Convict shows it to him.

Under here, the Conductor points to a scanner. As he puts the paper in front of it, he moves it around as he looks at the Conductor who groans.

“Let me do it.”

Snatching the ticket, he scans it before handing it back to him.

“Sorry.”

“Just hurry up and sit down.”

The Conductor sighs as the Convict walks inside.

He looks at his ticket, this time a seat in the middle, the bus is packed as he stares at his seat where an older woman sits. Seeing him, she grabs her bag as she stands up.

“Oh, thank you-”

The old woman moves to an empty seat as he looks over.

She avoids his look as the Convict looks back.

“Guess more space for me.”

He sits down into a chair as he leans onto the window.

___

It’s late at night, the Convict is behind the wheel of a car. Dressed in business casual as he sings along to the radio while he drives on a not so busy road. Coming to a stop sign, he slows to a stop as he waits at the sign.

After a few seconds he continues along the road.

He’s in a nicer car for the times, late 90s model civic. As he continues to sing along, unknown to him as a cruiser drives up behind him with its lights off.

Continuing for a bit, the Convict moves his head to the beat of the song from side to side, in the car behind him, the man in the cruiser squints his eyes trying to get a closer look.

Then it happens, he turns on his headlights as the police lights on the cruiser begin to flare up.

Like a deer, the Convict freezes as he turns his head back at the bright lights.

Signaling right, he turns onto the side of the road.

Coming to a stop, the Convict waits as a Police Officer gets out of his cruiser, he seems to groan with a look that would seem to suggest he isn’t happy to see him.

Then a few knocks on his window.

He presses a button as it automatically rolls down.

“Evening, officer.”

“Sir, why don’t you step out of the vehicle.”

The Convict looks at the Police Officer confused.

“I’m sorry? Is there a reason I should be stepping out of my vehicle, sir?”

“We’ve gotten reports of an individual selling drugs in the area, your face matches the description, now step out of the vehicle.”

The Convict lets out a small laugh.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“Step out of the vehicle. I’m giving you ten seconds to comply.”

The Police Officer reaches for something. It’s hard to tell as he shines a bright flashlight onto the Convict.

“Alright, alright.”

The Convict raises his arms up.

“I was just getting back from a Parent Teacher Conference.”

He slowly opens the door as he gets out.

“Oh really, for what district?”

The Police Officer continues to seemingly stare him down.

“Fremont, I’m a teacher. Name’s Magnus Jones.”

“Never heard of you.”

“I can grab my ID from my pocket.”

“That won’t be necessary. Put your hands behind your head. You’re under arrest.”

The Police Officer clicks on a transponder.

“I found our little rat.”

“I think there’s been a mistake, Officer.”

“Oh no, you’re him alright.”

The Police Officer shoves the Convict onto the car as he begins to cuff him.

He places a large bag of marijuana next to him on top of the car.

The Convict tries to resist but he’s already too late.

___

The bus comes to a stop as the Convict wakes back up. He looks around as the people around him are already heading out, he peers through the window to see another station. It’s bright outside, warm, without the presence of snow.

Getting up, the Convict follows the rest out of the bus.

Walking out of the bus, several police officers are waiting outside, beside them several dozen homeless people being rounded up like cattle on a farm.

“Is that everybody?” An Officer asks.

“Yeah, think so.” Another replies.

The Convict looks over as he quickly walks towards the station.

He can hear one of them sigh as he steps inside.

___

Looking around the station, the Convict stops at an information kiosk. There are several brochures and guides laying around as he quickly scans through them before stopping at one, he takes it.

Around him, people pay no mind to him as he walks back out the station.

___

Outside again, the Police Officers are gone. The Convict seemingly exhales in relief as he begins to walk out from the station.

He checks the guide he took, on it is a map of the state of New Mexico.

The Convict scans through it.

“Albuquerque, Albuquerque… Here it is.”

Reaching the sidewalk, he comes to a stop. Continuing to look at the map, he follows a path towards the western side.

“Looks like I need to follow Route 40.”

His stomach growls as the Convict looks around. Through some of the windows he can see them, families having breakfast together as he looks back down at his pamphlet.

The Convict sighs as he checks his pockets.

“10 years and nothing to my name. Deja, wait for me babygirl.”

In the distance, he spots a gas station as he heads inside.

It’s relatively unbusy as the Convict heads inside. Outside there’s one or two cars at the pump as a semi-truck seemingly unloads by the side.

“So, how have you been Jason?”

The door rings as the Convict heads inside.

Two men are talking to each other as they give him a glance before continuing on.

“Oh you know. Same old, same old. Been busier with newcomers coming into town for the holidays but hey, can’t complain.”

“Yeah, anyways, did you hear-”

The Convict makes his way down an aisle, out of sight of the two men.

He stares at the rows of food as he looks for something small.

His eyes stop at a variety of hostess foods.

“Twinkies, Snow Balls, Ding Dongs, CupCakes” says to himself each word with growing elation.

He picks up an individually packaged set of Zebra Cakes as he begins to cry.

“Do you hear that?” a voice calls out, it’s faint and unnoticeable.

His tears turn to sobbing as he opens up the package.

Eating the Zebra Cakes without care.

Beside him, the two men peek over from the edge of the aisle, the look and stare. Shocked at what they’re witnessing but say nothing.

He finishes the cakes as he quickly reaches for another item.

The men look at each other, unsure what to do.

“Should I call the police?” the Trucker asks.

“For this? You serious? Look at him. Let’s just talk to him.” Jason replies.

The Trucker gives him a look.

Jason sighs.

He begins to walk towards the Convict as the Trucker follows him from behind.

They are seemingly unnoticed as the Convict is preoccupied.

Within arms reach, the Trucker looks over at Jason who still seems confused, letting out a breath of air, the Trucker feigns a cough.

The two look at him with blank faces. As he looks like an animal caught in headlights.

“Hey.” Jason says.

Suddenly, the Convict looks down at the ground around him, noticing the several wrappers laying on the floor around him, a weird sight to see from a 40 year old man.

Then, he begins to break down and cry.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The Convict begins to say.

Jason and the Trucker are even more bewildered by the behavior.

“I’m just so hungry- My family, I just wanted to see my family.” He continues sobbing.

“Please, please don’t call the police. I can’t go back. I can’t…”

Jason tries to make an appeasing motion to get the Convict to calm down.

“Calm down, we aren’t going to call the police. This isn’t a big deal.” Jason tries to say.

The Convict begins to weep even more.

The Trucker facepalms as Jason looks over at him as if asking what he should do. Who shakes his head back at him in disapproval. He looks back at the front desk as Jason glares at him.

Jason groans as he grabs the Convict by his shoulder.

He looks into the Convict’s eyes.

“You’re safe. You’re safe. Please just calm down.”

“You mean you’re not going to report me?”

“For what? Stealing five dollars worth of food? Are you insane?” Jason replies.

Jason sighs, letting go of the Convict.

“You alright man?” Jason asks him.

The Convict stares at the floor, as if trying to process what’s going on around him. The Trucker looks on in concern at Jason, walking toward them, Jason puts his hand out signaling him to stop.

“Got a name?” Jason asks again.

“Magnus.”

“Magnus? What kind of name is that?” The Trucker replies.

“Magnus Jones”

“You from around here?” Jason asks.

“No. I’m from Oakland.”

“Oakland? Aren’t you awfully far from home?” Jason says again.

“Yeah, that’s why I’ve been trying to get home. To see my family.”

Jason sighs.

He walks over to the Trucker.

“Can you give us a second? You’re free to leave if you want. I won’t stop you.” Jason says.

The Convict nods.

Jason pulls the Trucker along with him away from the aisle.

“So, what do you think?” Jason asks while crossing his arms, thinking of something.

“He’s an illegal, he’s got to be.” The Trucker responds.

“He’s black.”

“There are dark skinned people down south.”

“Not that dark.”

“You never know.”

Jason shakes his head.

“Anyways, what are you thinking? Should we help him?”

“I don’t know, it could give away our cover. Maybe he’s one of them from ICE.” Jason says as he looks back over at the Convict who’s just standing there.

“Think he’s too calm?”

“No, it’s too weird. Never experienced something like this before. There just isn’t enough there.” Jason replies.

“Let’s ask where he’s from.” The Trucker says.

“It’s pointless, he’ll just stick to the script.”

“Then we’ll ask for the catchphrase.”

“What if they know the magic words?””

“There’s no way.”

Jason sighs.

“Alright.”

They slowly walk back towards the Convict.

“So, how’d you end up here anyways?” The Trucker asks.

“Took a greyhound from Louisiana.”

The Trucker looks shocked as he looks over at Jason.

“Louisiana?”

“And before that?” Jason asks.

“Just there.” The Convict calmly says.

Jason and Trucker look at each other, the Trucker is still confused as Jason continues to think to himself.

“You homeless?”

“No.” The Convict shakes his head.

“Why Louisiana?” The Trucker pushes.

The Convict winces in pain as Jason shakes his head telling him to stop.

Jason stares down at the wrapper.

“I don’t have any money on me right now, but maybe I could help clean up-”

“No, that won’t be necessary.”

Jason looks up at the Convict.

“Kyle, you’re heading to Gallup aren’t you? Why don’t you let Magnus here accompany you?”

The Trucker crosses his arms as he visibly winces.

“I don’t know about that, Jason. You sure.”

“Yeah. I don’t see the harm, he’s just hitchhiking home anyways.”

The Trucker chuckles.

“I guess it’s your lucky day.”

The Convict looks at Jason then at Kyle, repeatedly as if in shock and elation as Jason begins to walk back towards the counter.

“Thank- Tank you so much.”

“Relax, we haven’t even left yet.” The Trucker responds.

Jason begins to chuckle.

___

In a semi-truck, the Trucker and Convict sit beside each other as they drive on Route 40. The Trucker focuses on the road as the Convict looks out onto the desert bushes and shrubs.

The Trucker glances over at the Convict.

“So, what’s your story?”

The Convict turns to the Trucker.

“My story?”

“Yeah, your life story.”

The Convict starts to think to himself, it’s a long pause.

“Uhh, let me think. I was a science teacher.”

“Was?”

“Yeah. Two kids and a loving wife. Spent most of my time teaching and with my kids.”

The Trucker seems to realize something.

“Must of been a life.”

The Convict stares out ahead of him for a bit. In the distance, they slowly are beginning to enter into a small town.

“It was.”

“Memories are what give us hope, hope for a better day.”

The semi-truck begins to slow down.

“I’m going to let you off here, it’s easy to get lost, so just keep following Route 40.”

The truck stops.

“Thanks for everything.”

The Trucker looks over at the Convict with a grin.

“I hope you find your family.” The Trucker says.

“I hope so too.”

___

You are reading story The Long Journey at novel35.com

Getting out of the truck, the Convict closes the door behind him, jumping down. He looks around at the small town of Gallup as the semi-truck begins to drive away. It’s your typical rest stop town, one you visit before reaching your place.

The semi-trucks horn blows.

The Convict looks over as the Trucker looks over at him from a lowered window. He throws something towards him as the Convict catches it, it’s a small wad of dollar bills.

“Good luck!” The Trucker quickly shouts.

Realizing what just happened, the Convict raises his hand up.

“Wait!”

The Trucker puts the window back up before the Convict can respond, with a smile on his face, he quickly drives off before he can stop him.

The Convict runs after him for a bit then sighs, as he begins to walk on.

___

We see the Convict sitting at a bar, in front of him a sandwich and some fries. He stares off at a large television screen playing sports as he eats. Coming into the restaurant, a Navajo man looks around the room. His eyes stopping at the bar.

Looking away, he contemplates to himself before walking forward.

He greets a female server who walks by as he does.

“Hey Sheryll, business doing good?”

“Busy as always.” She seems to reply hurriedly as she carries a few plates with her on a tray.

“Take a seat wherever.”

“I’ll do just that.”

The Navajo man walks up to the bar, he feigns a cough as he sits down beside the Convict.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” The Convict replies.

Another server walks up from behind the bar.

“What can I get you, Adi?” A server asks.

“Just some water, I’m still on patrol.”

The server quickly fills a cup, before handing it to him.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. Friend.”

The Navajo man looks up at the television screen, it’s playing college football.

“Lobo’s right? Ain’t the best, but what can you do?”

The Convict continues to eat without speaking.

The Navajo man lets out a breath of air.

“A friend of mine called about a man who needs some help. You haven’t seen him by any chance have you?” He looks over at the Convict, who just shakes his head.

“No, siree.”

The Convict takes a sip of water as he stares deeply at the screen.

“Ah, well it was worth a shot. Hey Dale! Actually, I’ll have something quick to eat!”

“Be right there!” The server responds.

“Dale, he’s a great guy. Once you get to know them that is.”

“Mmm.” The Convict says.

The Navajo Man looks over at the Convict before staring at the television.

“Ah, come on, you can do better than that.” Another individual calls out.

The server comes out with a small sandwich.

“Thanks, Dale.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The Navajo man begins to eat his sandwich without saying anything. As we see the Convict’s eyes begin to slowly twitch from the discomfort.

The Convict puts down his meal.

He looks over at the server.

“Can I get the bill?” The Convict asks.

“It’ll be right up.” He responds.

“Going so soon? You haven’t even touched your plate.” The Navajo man says.

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Nonsense.”

The server arrives with the bill as the Convict stares at it, he takes out the wad of dollar bills as the Navajo man looks at them.

“Dale, put it on my tab.”

“You sure? Yeah, for our new friend here.”

“That isn’t necessary-”

“Any idea on how you’re going to get to California from here?”

The Navajo man smiles at him as the Convict looks at him in surprise.

“How’d-”

“Isn’t it a little strange how this was the only place with a price you could afford to pay?”

The Navajo man yawns as he stretches.

“Why don’t you sit down? We can talk when you’re done with your meal.”

The Convict stares at him, as he looks over at the plate.

___

Some time passes as besides the owners, only the Convict and the Navajo man are left, from the doorway people are saying their goodbyes as more plates line up the Convict and Navajo man’s side.

“Looks like you haven’t had a good meal in ages.” The Navajo Man jokes.

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a bit.

“So, aren’t you going to ask me?”

“Ask you what?”

“What all this is, how I know about you?”

Picking up his cup of water, the Convict drinks from it.

“I thought about it, but if you were here to arrest me, I figured you’d do it by now.”

“You catch on quick.”

“Want to tell me about it?”

The Navajo man shakes his head.

“Maybe some other day.”

The Navajo man gets up as he looks over at the Convict.

“Come on, let’s go. I’ll give you a ride to Flagstaff, it’s on the way to a reservation I’m going to.”

“Flagstaff?”

“You should be able to take a greyhound to LA from there.”

“But-”

“Don’t worry, there’s a program to help people like you there.”

“I’m not an illegal immigrant.”

“I know. Now come on.”

___

The Navajo man drives his cruiser along Indian Route 15. Watching the road as the Convict stares off at the mounds in the distance.

“Beautiful isn’t it? Ah, it’s too bad you can’t even see the best parts from here.”

“Maybe some other time.”

“Maybe.”

They continue to drive along in silence.

“So, how long have you been a police officer for?”

“A few years, give or take, 5, 6. Before that, I was in the military.”

“The military? Thank you for your service.”

“Good times. Good times.”

The Navajo man looks over at the Convict.

“What about you? I heard you were a science teacher.”

“Yeah. I was. Wasn’t the best job, but it paid the bills for me and my family.”

“What’d you go to school for if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I got a Doctorates in Mathematics at San Francisco State. Only problem was, no one was hiring. Everywhere I looked, every position was taken.”

“That can be rough.”

“So when a friend reached out about the opportunity, I took it.”

“That’s what it always is, a friend.” The Navajo man says

He clicks his tongue.

“It’s a damn shame. Isn’t it? Needing a friend to find anything these days. To vouch for you.” He continues. Shaking his head in disapproval.

The Convict looks out of the side window uncomfortably as the Navajo man stares dead ahead.

“What about you? Why’d you quit and head home?”

“Family reasons.”

“Oh.”

The Navajo man looks around as if checking for something.

He sighs.

“My daughter. A few years back she went missing. Ever since then, I’ve been looking for her.”

“Sounds rough.”

They sit in more silence.

“Sorry for bringing it up.”

“Don’t be. She’s still out there, I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah.”

They pass by a billboard as a city can be seen in the distance.

“We’re almost there.” The Navajo man says.

“Here’s what you’re going to need to do, so listen closely, when we get to the bus stop, tell them you’re homeless.”

“But-”

“Listen, just tell them you’re homeless and they’ll give you a greyhound ticket to LA. After that getting to Oakland will be a breeze, so just do what I say. They won’t care what you do once you get on that bus, after that, it’s not their problem.”

The Navajo man looks over at the Convict who stares at the ground thinking to himself.

“You hear me?”

The Convict looks over at him.

“Thanks. Thanks for everything you’ve done for me. There’s still something I haven't told you.”

___

The cruiser comes to a slow stop as the sun begins to set, the Navajo man looks over at the Convict, as they enter into a bus station.

“This is your stop.”

The Convict begins to open up his door as the Navajo man grabs him to stop.

“Wait.”

He turns back as he sees the Navajo Man reach into his pockets for something, confused he stops as he looks at him.

“15 dollars isn’t going to last you that long, or pay for transportation once you get off. Here, this should at least cover something.”

The Navajo man hands him a couple of twenty dollar bills.

“You’ll be on your own from here on out.”

He sighs as he looks at the Convict.

“You might not find what you’re looking for, it’s been 10 years.”

The Convict nods.

“I know.”

“Goodluck.” The Navajo man waves as the Convict heads out of the door.

___

Sitting on the bus, the Convict waits as more and more bodies pile in, old, fat, out of luck. He tries not to make eye contact as one sits down beside him. There’s dozens of them, all with similar backstories.

He closes his eyes as if trying not to see.

___

Now, inside of a bus station, standing in front of a kiosk, the Convict talks to a young man.

“That will be fifty dollars to get to Oakland.”

The Convict hands him the money as the young man begins to count his change.

A ticket pops out from the kiosk as he hands it to the Convict.

He stands outside, waiting for the bus to arrive.

“I’m finally almost there.”

___

Getting off at the final stop on his long journey, a smile forms on the Convicts face. A familiar sight to the man, Oakland California. He stands outside of a bus stop looking around.

“Looks like a lot has changed.”

He sighs.

The Convict begins to walk down the street, new roads and buildings, the same names but different faces, it’s hard to say if you could call it the same street.

“I don’t even know any of these places, wonder if the barber shop is still here.”

Staring through a window, we see his reflection.

“Ah, I look like shit.”

The Convict continues along as he stops looking at a laundromat.

“Looks like the laundromat in Chinatown is still open at least.”

He heads inside.

___

Walking in, the Convict looks around seeing a young asian man standing at a reception desk as the Convict looks around the place, it’s clean, with a sense of being more of a luxury than a place you go to.

“Well I’d be asking too much for the old man to be around.”

The Convict walks around as he looks at the washing machines.

“Man, they seriously changed everything.”

He stops in front of an older change machine.

“At least some things stayed the same.”

Pulling out a few dollar bills, he puts them into the machine as coins begin to rapidly fall down from the machine. Grabbing them with his hands, he walks over to a washing machine.

Stripping to his briefs, he puts his clothes into a washer. From the desk, the asian man looks over at him.

“Hey, put on some clothes.” The man says uninterested.

“They’re the only ones I got.” The Convict replies.

“Ah, whatever. Just don’t complain if someone calls the cops on you.” The man retorts.

The Convict sighs as he sits down.

Contemplating to himself, he looks over at the restroom then at the man.

He gets up as he walks towards the asian man.

The man looks over from his phone.

“What’s up?”

“Got anything I can wash myself with?” The Convict asks.

“Razors are a dollar, shaving cream is extra.”

Taking out two dollar bills the Convict hands them to the man.

“Code to the restroom is 7-7-7”

“Thanks.”

Walking inside the restroom, the Convict walks up to a sink. He looks at himself. His face is a mess, dirty, with stains all over. Scruffy and unkempt facial hair.

He sighs.

Turning on the sink, the Convict begins to wash his face off as the stains come off easily with a rub. Producing a lather, the Convict begins to scrub it onto his face.

He wipes off his face while he looks at his hair.

Doing a few minor touch ups, the Convict stares at himself in the mirror.

His gaze hardened, and weathered.

He begins to practice a grin.

“Honey! How good to see you!”

“How have you been my little Kalisha?”

“Ugh, you’ve got a lot stronger, Anthony.”

The Convict begins to laugh with a genuine smile on his face.

He sighs.

“After ten long years, I’ll finally be reunited with them.”

Putting his head down, the Convict begins to break down and cry again.

He does this for a while.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m a terrible father. It’s all my fault.”

Picking himself back up, the Convict slowly recomposes himself.

He washes his face again, wiping it as he heads towards the doorway.

Outside the asian man continues to play on his phone. The Convict makes his way over towards his laundry. Taking it out from a washer, he puts it into the dryer. As he does, a note slips out from his pants. He looks at it as he puts it away.

___

The sun is setting as the Convict can be seen walking down the street of a semi-urban environment, consisting of highly compacted single family homes along with small sidewalks with multi-car lanes, he continues along.

Shops and homes sit side by side in this weirdly zoned hellscape. He can see families coming home as children play outside with each other as they’re called back inside.

The hesitant gazes of others who look upon him.

The Convict tries to not be swayed, putting on a smile he waves.

“Evening.”

He says going on his way, not receiving a reply.

The Convict passes by a park, it’s small and unspacious, it fits only a block with a few courts and fields, he seems to reminisce to himself as he looks towards it. Now only kids play on it, the men now gone as he looks away. But he wouldn’t know.

Continuing on, the sun finally sets as the bright lights from homes shine out onto the streets.

In the distance he’s finally there home.

The lights are off, nobody is home.

He stares for a bit, as the Convict tries to grasp reality. When suddenly, a car drives into the lot. The Convict watches on, as a child runs out, she’d be the age of his daughter, then another. Looking just like his son, younger, and still in his adolescence.

Unable to watch any longer, he shouts.

“Kalisha! Anthony!”

The two children turn around as he sees the woman of his life, Deja, and beside her, another man holding a baby of their own.

“How many times do I have to tell you! Don’t run out the car! It’s dangerous.” A loud strong voice calls out.

Seeing him, the Convict falls to his knees.

“His eyes trembling at the sight.”

“Dad, is that man over there going to be alright?” Kalisha points out.

“Just ignore him, he’s just another homeless man.” Deja says, pushing them quickly inside.

“Homeless people are the worst.” Anthony says.

Tears begin to fall from the Convict's face, as he looks down trying to hide it.

He stands on his knees for a while.

Then suddenly gets up. Wiping his face with his arms, he begins to walk away.

Beginning to walk away, he tries to put on a smile.

The Convict begins to sing. His voice is coarse and rough but it’s there.

“Don’t- you let nobody, turn you round, turn you round, turn you round.”

The weakened voice grows stronger.

“Don’t- you let nobody, turn you round, turn you round, turn you round. Keep on to calvaryyy”

He begins to weep in between.

___

In an alleyway, the Convict walks up to a payphone, the night sky is out as he stands under a streetlamp, looking around he begins to put a few quarters into the machine.

Taking out a slip of paper, the Convict begins to press the numbers on it into the machine.

The phone begins to ring as it goes to a female voice, it’s seemingly speaking Chinese.

The Convict looks around confused.

Then, it rings again as the number seems to be picked up again.

“Wéi, nǐ hǎo.” A male voice calls out.

“Hello?” The Convict responds.

“English or Spanish?” The voice seems to ask in a minor asian accent.

“English.” He responds.

“Hello friend, what can I do for you?” The voice asks.

“I- I don’t know.”

“Ah, that sounds like a problem, don’t call back.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” The line drops.

The Convict sighs.

He looks at the piece of paper. It’s blurred out in between the lines.

“If you miss your last-. As a friend with fiends. They saw a fed of a end set you.” the Convict tries to read it out loud.

“What does it mean?”

Putting in a few more quarters in, the Convict calls again.

No response.

Then again, the same result.

A third and final time, he sighs as he tries again. Nothing.

The Convict slams his fist onto the wall.

“Fuck!”

He sighs. Taking in a deep breath of air. The Convict leans back against the brick wall. His eyes seemingly hopeless as he stares off.

The payphone begins to ring, the Convict looks over at it in surprise.

Watching it for a bit, it disconnects.

It begins to ring again, as the Convict watches on, standing up this time, he walks over to the payphone before picking it up. Before he can say anything a voice calls out.

“How impudent to not answer my call.” A strong male voice says.

“Hello?” The Convict asks, confused.

“Who is this?” He follows up.

“I will be asking the questions, Mr.Jones.” The voice responds.

“How do you know my name?”

It’s silent.

“It should be as the paper should say, I’m a friend of a friend. A company man. I’m glad you reached out. I come to you with a business opportunity. Why don’t we help each other out? You have a unique set of skills someone like me is in need of.”

The Convict thinks to himself.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Did any of us have a choice, Mr.Jones? This is an offer you cannot afford to refuse. But one of necessity, especially one in your position.”

The Convict doesn’t respond as he seems to process the information to himself.

“Though I will say this, I reward those who show me loyalty, and return gifts tenfold. What I am giving you is a second chance, one you will not find anywhere else.”

The Convict looks down at the ground then back at the phone.

“Alright, I’m in.”

“Good. Now go to Chinatown, someone will be with you shortly. Welcome to the Company.”

The line drops.

The Convict stares at the phone as he takes the piece of paper, staring at it he crumples it before throwing the piece onto the ground walking away.

___

In an operations room of the NSA a joint staff meeting is taking place, in the room we’re greeted to several federal, central intelligence and national security members who are all looking over at a man known simply as Woo, he points over at a monitor screen as a Fourier sample begins to play.

“It should be as the paper should say, I’m a friend of a friend. A company man.”

“Playback the other one.” Woo says.

“For I am only a company man, a representative of a larger group.”

“It’s a match.” An agent calls out.

“It looks like we finally found our missing man. After all these years” Woo smiles, getting up he walks toward a billboard.

“Should we send someone to intercept?”

“No, it will be too obvious. He’ll know we’re on to him.”

He stands in front of the billboard on it with several connections and links to diagrams, faces, and statements. All of them connect to a single image.

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