Is the love of money the root of all evil? Can it drive you to do things you’d be better off not doing?

And what if you were standing on a street corner and saw it falling from the sky? What would you do? You’re about to see in . . .

Free Money

     “Dollar bills! Dollar bills!” someone screamed. They dropped from the sky and floated through the air. Caressed by the wind—wisped in magical patterns. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

     I stared at Calvin. He seemed mesmerized. Neither of us said anything, as we walked down Main Street and watched the people around us. They, too, appeared in awe of what was happening. The sight of millions of bills falling from the heavens was an unbelievable event.

     But then movement—people became crazy. Running and screaming, they grabbed for the falling wealth, knocking each other over in an effort to secure the streaming green falling about us.

     The treasure, appearing from nowhere, created madness. Calvin and I dashed to a safe place beyond the throng of hoarders.

     He screamed to me over the awful din, “Lonnie, what should we do? You want to get into the mix and try to score?”

     “You’re nuts. Somebody will get killed if this continues much longer, and I don’t want it to be me.”

     The crowd grew—a reckless, out of control mob. People fell to the ground—some trampled, others kicked in the face and head.

     “What next?” I muttered. And then the dollar bills started climbing up the bodies, adhering themselves to those who tried to grab them. The bills seemed alive. They appeared to be on a mission—a very deadly mission.

     They all traveled a similar path from feet or out of hands toward the face. People panicked. Loud screaming, then gasping for air could be heard throughout the crowd, as bills covered both the nose and mouth of the foragers, leaving dead bodies everywhere.

     I grabbed Calvin by the arm. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.”

     “And go where?” he trembled.

     “I don’t have a clue, but we’ve got to go.”

     So we hustled down Main Street, hurdling over bodies and avoiding the falling cash as we ran. Reaching the end of Main, we turned right on Drury Lane, only to see more bodies, hundreds of them, covered in bills, lying face up on the street. And they all appeared to be . . . dead.

     My breathing became labored. This whole thing frightened me. Confused, I didn’t know what to do or where to run. My heart pounded in my chest.

     I looked behind me to find Calvin. His legs seemed rubbery, as he tried to keep up. “What the crap do we do?” I murmured. Overwhelmed by the nightmare in which we had become entangled, I struggled not to succumb to the fear within me.

     Frozen in place, I couldn’t move. Calvin hobbled toward me, falling to the ground about five feet away. I stared at him and cringed. A dollar bill slithered toward his prone body.

     I screeched, “Calvin, get your butt up and out of there.”

     I don’t know if he heard me. The noise of people all around us trying to escape the economic attack had become deafening.

     I pulled myself together and ran to Calvin, sidestepping the bills attempting to climb my legs. As I got to his side, the bill I’d seen approaching him grasped onto his leg. I reached down, grabbing it between my thumb and forefinger, and tried to rip it off.

     Calvin lay motionless, as I tugged at it with all my might. But it seemed to possess elasticity. It came toward me as I pulled, but held on at the same time. Frustrated, I gave it a hard, fast twist. It came loose.

     My jerking motion awakened Calvin from his comatose state. He began to squirm. I took hold of him and propped him up against me.

     “What happened?” he moaned.

     “Don’t know. You went out like a light. Let’s get out of here.”

     I helped him up. He clung to me. “I’m a bit shaky,” he whispered.

     “Can you walk?”

     “Yeah, I think so.”

     With Calvin leaning on me, we made our way down Drury Lane, careful to avoid the bills still floating through the air and, in particular, the more vicious ones on the pavement. Turning onto Amber Way, we confronted the most frightening sight I’d ever seen.

     The street overflowed with people, all covered with one-dollar bills. Some struggled to catch a last breath of air. Others, not moving at all, just lay there. Then my eyes focused on an astonishing phenomenon. Emerging from the Central Valley Savings and Loan on the corner of Drury and Amber were not people, but bills—not ones, but fives, tens, twenties, fifties, and even a couple of hundred dollar bills. All standing upright, they walked like a legion of powerful gods.

     Calvin muttered, ”What do we do now, Lonnie?” 

     “I don’t know,” I stammered.

     We were the only souls standing erect—Calvin and me, amongst a fortune set on destroying us.

     “This can’t be real,” Calvin whimpered. “Must be a dream.”

     “Yeah. And we’re in it together. You have to be kidding,” I replied.

     “Then you explain it,” he screamed.

     The marching bills began to encircle us. My mind raced. There must be a way out. There has to be. Then, scanning my captors, I eyed an opening in this procession of money.

     I reached over and grabbed Calvin. “This way,” I yelled.

     Dragging our fatigued bodies through the opening, we trudged into an alley alongside the bank. For the moment, we had eluded the bills coming after us.

     We huddled together behind a huge dumpster. I mumbled aloud, “If only we could get inside the bank.”

     Why Calvin had the presence of mind to look at his watch, I don’t know.

     “You do know it’s after hours. The bank is closed.” And with a slight laugh, he sputtered, “We’d be breaking in—like bank robbers.”

     At that moment, the side door of the bank opened. I trembled in anticipation of what might emerge. I thought, More money draining out of a financial institution.

     To my amazement, it wasn’t money. Four men dressed in bankers’ three-piece gray suits and striped ties strutted into the alley.

     Calvin and I watched as the men opened the trunk of a late model, jet-black Mercedes-Benz. What they did in the trunk we couldn’t see, but their behavior seemed strange. However, compared to the happenings of the day, it didn’t appear all that odd.

     Then one of the men turned and glanced in our direction. I began to shake, thinking he may have heard us hovering behind the trash bin. His eyes scanned the alley. Turning back to the others still peering into the car’s trunk, he uttered, “All’s clear. We can proceed with the day’s plan.”

     “What plan?” I mumbled. “What do these suits have to do with the money running through the streets and attacking people? What in God’s name is this all about?”

     Calvin shook his head. His body quivered. He said nothing.

     Than a second man, a huge fellow, maybe three hundred pounds, moved away from the group. Pulling a cell phone from his jacket pocket, he ordered, “Send it in.”

     Calvin gasped, “Send what in?”

     “Damned if I know, but I guess we’re going find out,” I groaned.

     Then the largest motor home I’d ever seen came rumbling into the alley, interrupting the relative quiet. Its large side doors slid open and the four men entered. The doors closed behind them. The alley became deathly still—no movement, no sounds.

     Calvin and I got up and stretched our legs, now quite stiff from squatting behind the trash bin. We stood for a brief moment and then retreated to our post behind the large bin to avoid being seen.

     The doors of the motor home slid open again. The shortest of the four suits emerged screaming at the top of his lungs, ”Who were those jerks that ruined the scene? Who let them on the set? We have to shoot the whole blasted thing over again.”

     “Calm down Stanley,” a man, dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, implored. “We can work around it. Maybe even use the footage.”

     “How?” Stanley moaned.

     “Well, some people do escape the hold money has on us. ‘Free money’ isn’t an enticement to everybody.”

     “Show me one person who can’t be bought or conned for the purpose of gaining wealth and I’ll hire him on the spot,” Stanley scowled.

     “I did. Two, in fact.”

     “If we use them, we have to find them. If we find them, we have to pay them. If we pay them, I bet it’s going to be a lot,” Stanley bellowed.

     The men climbed back into the motor home and the doors slid closed behind them.

     Calvin laughed hysterically. “They’re making a movie. And we’re in it,” he sighed.

     My body drooped. I was drained, but relieved.

     We never did become movie stars. However, we did go to see “Free Money” when it came to our local theater.

Copyright © 2012 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.