Scene 4
(Lights up on the basement again, several days later. From the light coming in through the basement window, we can tell it’s early evening. There are still blankets and a pillow on the couch. GREG is working on the laptop when ALICE comes down the stairs, carrying a box. The box is taped up and unmarked, save for a FRAGILE stamp or sticker on the side of it, visible to the audience.)
ALICE: Hey, Greg, what did you order? There’s no address or anything.
GREG: (Excitedly.) Oh shit, that’s the box!
ALICE: What box?
GREG: The dark web mystery box I ordered.
ALICE: (Freezing.) You ordered a box after I went out and bought all that thrift-store shit for you?
GREG: I thought I told you about it.
ALICE: I guess you thought wrong. (She unceremoniously drops the box on the table and stands beside it with her hands on her hips.) You owe me an apology.
GREG: Look, I appreciate you going out and getting all that stuff for me. I do. It’s just…
ALICE: Not sounding much like an apology so far.
GREG: Well, I couldn’t use that shit. None of it was good. I decided to make it authentic, do the real thing. (Pause.) For us.
ALICE: You mean, that thing I suggested you do in the first place? Not fake the unboxing?
GREG: Yeah. I mean, I guess so.
ALICE: You guess so?
GREG: Can we not do this?
ALICE: Yeah, I don’t know why I even bother anymore. I’m going to take Rocco out for a walk. In the meantime, feel free to turn the asshole down a notch. (She stomps upstairs and slams the door again. A moment later, we hear jingling keys, and another door opens and closes.)
GREG: Christ alive. (He stares at the box for a few minutes before going over to his desk and pulling gloves and a knife out of the drawer. He repositions his camera and his lighting so that they’re facing the box and the contents of the box. GREG eyes the pillows and blankets on the couch and hastily moves them out of the way. He puts on a hat that says ZIPPER on it and sits on the couch. He pulls the box on his lap, puts the gloves on and picks up the knife. Then, he realizes the camera isn’t recording.) Shit. (He sets the box aside, goes over to the camera, and hits record. He sits back down on the couch and picks up the box again. We see his expression change from one of dismay and annoyance to one of delight, almost wonder. His energy is up as he speaks.) Good morning, ghosts and ghouls! So… this arrived in the mail for me today. No labels, no address, no anything—well, except for this sticker or whatever that says FRAGILE. You can guarantee that one was ignored. Hopefully, there’s still something salvageable here. (He takes the knife and cuts the tape on the box as he speaks.) As you can see, I’m wearing gloves, because you never know what shit you’ll find in these things. I’ve watched other videos where people have found guns, bloody fabric, and even syringes. Totally not taking any chances on this. If shit goes sideways, I’d rather not get my fingerprints on something I plan to turn in to the police. God willing, I won’t even have to worry about that though. (He sets the knife aside and peers into the box. The audience cannot see what’s inside.) Dude. Holy shit. (He sticks his hand inside, winces, swears, and jerks it back out. He’s bleeding from a cut in his palm.) Fuck. What the hell? (GREG looks into the box again.) Jesus, it looks like there’s some broken glass in here. Give me a second. (He takes out a shattered bottle.) That’s what I thought. Something fragile, unprotected. Perfect for slicing up Zipper’s soft skin. Let’s see what else we have in here. (GREG pulls out a card. He reads it aloud to the camera.) “I am the shadow in the dark. I am the whisper in the night. I am your worst nightmare. I am the Boxer.” (GREG rolls his eyes.) Melodramatic much? Jesus. I guess that’s the guy who put this thing together. Boxer, if you’re watching, you seem pretty lame. Hope you’re laughing as you swim in all that Bitcoin I sent you. Nice ploy there, dude. (He rummages around in the box and pulls out an old baby doll, which he sets beside the note and the broken bottle.) Nice. (He goes in again and takes out a pile of hair.) This looks like human hair. That’s gnarly. (He sets the hair on the table, takes out a box of matches. He opens the box, lights a match, and shows it to the camera before blowing it out and setting the matches aside. Lastly, he takes out a bleached animal skull, seemingly from a small rodent or dog.) Okay, what the hell? Is that really all there is? (He shakes the box a little. The glass rattles around inside. As he looks back at the table, his gaze falls on the baby doll again, and he frowns.) Hang on a minute. (GREG twists the baby doll head, and it pops off. He digs around inside the severed head and pulls out a note, which he accidentally smears some blood on.) Shit. (He unfolds the note and reads it out loud, frowning.) “You are the hapless. You are the weak. You are the summoner. You are my link. With blood from your hands, the Entity rises. Careful now, Zipper. Here come the surprises.” (GREG pales.) What the fuck? He knows my name? It’s supposed to be anonymous. (He reads the note again, hands shaking somewhat. Then, he sets the note aside and shoves everything back in the box. He shuts off the camera, takes off his gloves, and tosses them into the trash. He goes upstairs. A minute later, he comes back down, pressing a dish towel against his bleeding hand.) How the fuck does he know my name? Maybe it’s a fan just messing with me. Or hell, it’s Alice. That makes more sense. (He winces at the pain in his hand again and readjusts the towel. A door opens upstairs, with jingling keys and the sound of a dog scuffling around. Greg looks up and yells up the stairs.) Alice, could you come down here please? I want to show you something.
ALICE: Give me just a second. (We hear her take off Rocco’s leash, and Rocco takes off running to another part of the house. Once she has handled the dog, ALICE comes part of the way down the stairs.) Hey, what’s up? What’s wrong with your hand?
GREG: Did you do this?
ALICE: Do what?
GREG: Set up this box. Send it to me, or whatever. Is this some kind of joke?
ALICE: I don’t know what you’re talking about. I went out and got all that shit for you, that’s it. Whatever you did after that, I had nothing to do with it, nothing.
GREG: I cut my fucking hand on a broken lightbulb, Alice.
ALICE: How is that my fault?
GREG: I’m just saying, it seems pretty convenient that we get into some fights, this package shows up, the Boxer mentions me by name, and—
ALICE: He mentioned you by name? I thought it was anonymous.
GREG: Yeah, so did I. You see why I’m suspicious?
ALICE: Who’s the Boxer?
GREG: The guy who put this thing together.
ALICE: He left you a note?
GREG: Two notes.
ALICE: Let me see one.
GREG: Hang on. (He goes over to the things he’s pulled out of the box and gingerly plucks the Boxer’s note from the pile, not the one about the Entity. He hands it to ALICE.) It doesn’t look like your handwriting, but I still wasn’t sure.
ALICE: I said I didn’t do it. (She takes the note from him and reads it aloud once again.) “I am the shadow in the dark. I am the whisper in the night. I am your worst nightmare. I am the Boxer.” What the fuck does that mean? You thought I would write this?
GREG: I don’t know what I thought.
ALICE: Well, that’s what you said, Greg. You thought it was me.
GREG: It doesn’t sound like you, okay? You’re right. I shouldn’t have accused you.
ALICE: (She eyes his hand.) Do you think you need stitches? We should go to the hospital.
GREG: I don’t think it’s deep; it just bled a lot. That glass was sharp. This Boxer dude… I don’t know. He seems like an asshole.
ALICE: Takes one to know one, I suppose. (Beat. The two of them speak at the same time.)
GREG: Look, I wanted—
ALICE: I was hoping— (Pause.)
GREG: You first.
ALICE: I was going to say, I was hoping we could get out for a little while, just the two of us. We haven’t had a date night in a long time, and I think it would do us some good.
GREG: I think so, too. I wanted to say I’m sorry… for everything lately. I’ve been an asshole.
ALICE: Yeah, you have.
GREG: Anyway, I want to make it up to you. That is, if you’ll let me.
ALICE: I think I’ll let you. (She looks at his hand.) First, I think maybe I should take a look at that.
GREG: Sure thing. (He starts up the stairs. ALICE glances over at the box.)
ALICE: How’d it go, by the way? The unboxing?
GREG: It… might have been a bust. I guess we’ll wait and see. (GREG rethinks something and heads back down the stairs. He sets up the camera again as ALICE watches, hands on her hips. He hits RECORD, and the red light flashes. Satisfied, he steps away from the camera and moves toward ALICE. The two of them head upstairs. The door closes. Enter the ENTITY, in the form of a silhouette, if possible. GREG’s desk lamp flickers, and a painting drops off the wall. Lights fade.)