Untraceable Page #10

From a tiny cardboard sheath, Owen slips out a double-edged

razor blade and slips it into the tool.

EXT. MARSH’S BACKYARD -- LATE AFTERNOON.

A PACK OF CHILDREN swarm and scatter, laughing and screaming

with delight, spraying each other with SQUIRT GUNS.

At a PICNIC TABLE, PARENTS chat, eating hotdogs and burgers,

sipping beers. Marsh, holding a beer, stands alone, watching

as the sun bleeds below the tree line.

.

She turns and sees Annie happily squealing, backed against a

flower bed, drenched by her friends. Marsh looks over and

sees Griffin manning the grill.

Griffin glances at Marsh and their eyes click like billiard

balls. They share a smile. It’s interrupted by-

BOX (O.C.)

Hey, there.

Box stands there, looking a bit self-conscious, overdressed,

holding a bouquet of flowers. A dab of bloody Kleenex is

stuck to his neck.

MARSH:

You made it.

50.

BOX:

Barely.

MARSH:

(re:
the flowers)

You gonna give me those, or make me

pry ‘em out of your cold, dead

hands?

BOX:

(dryly)

Surprise.

She takes them. She sees Griffin looking over, watching.

Stella, too. Great. Then, as Marsh reflexively inhales the

flowers, Annie runs over-

.

ANNIE:

Mommy, can I smell them, too?

MARSH:

Sure, Bug.

She scoops her up onto the bench. Annie inhales them.

MARSH (cont’d)

John, this is my daughter Annie.

BOX:

Hi, Annie.

ANNIE:

Hello, John.

As before, a subtle look of recognition comes over Box. He

smiles warmly at her.

BOX:

You must be about...ummm...six and

three quarters, I’ll bet.

ANNIE:

(delighted)

How did you know that?

Marsh is curious, too, and a bit uneasy, but before Box can

answer, her Treo vibrates. She checks it. Her face changes.

She and Box meet eyes. She answers it-

MARSH:

Marsh.

As she listens, she stands up, her eyes filling with alarm.

51.

She quickly looks over at Griffin. He’s noticed the moment.

He quickly crosses over and whispers in Stella’s ear. She

takes immediate action-

STELLA:

Annie, honey! Come here! We’re

gonna play a game!

.

MARSH:

Honey, go to Grandma.

Annie starts to run to her, but then, no fool, Annie stops

dead and whips around, just in time to see her mother, Box,

and Griffin rushing away-

ANNIE:

You could at least say good-bye!

Marsh whips around-

MARSH:

I am so sorry, baby! I’ll make it

up to you! I promise!

They hurry on, but then, at the gate, run right into MELANIE,

30, a lovely young woman, carrying a bottle of wine-

MELANIE:

I’m looking for Griffin? He said-

(beat)

Wait, that’s you! Hi!

Griffin grabs her by the elbow-

GRIFFIN:

I am so sorry. Gotta run.

He races away with Marsh and Box. Melanie is bewildered.

She sees Annie, looking up at her.

ANNIE:

You get used to it.

INT. BOX’S SPEEDING CAR -- LATER -- AFTERNOON.

Box speeds along the highway with his siren attached to the

roof, wailing. Marsh works her laptop in the passenger seat.

Griffin sits in back, looking at Marsh’s screen, waiting.

When the image comes up, Marsh and Griffin react

Box looks over as best he can, while he drives. On the

screen, he sees Jerry Carver tied to the upright Ping-Pong

table, wrestling and screaming into his gag.

52.

Into his torso, killwithme.com has been cut with a razor.

The delicate letters trickle blood.

BOX:

Sick, f***in’ bastard.

GRIFFIN:

What does the crawl say?

MARSH:

“The more that watch, the faster he

drains.”

BOX:

Drains?

GRIFFIN:

2,513,000 viewers. Estimated Time

of Death:
18 hours, 33 minutes.

INT. TEENAGE BOY’S BACKYARD -- LATE AFTERNOON.

A TEENAGE BOY, smoking a joint, lies on his hammock, with an

OPEN LAPTOP COMPUTER on his lap. On the other side of a

nearby fence, a barbecue is in progress.

The teen laughs, sputtering, watching a home video clip of a

kid getting hit in the bare chest by a Roman candle. The

moment when the firework knocks the kid off his feet plays

over and over again in slow motion.

Ping! The teenager gets an Instant message: Excited, the teenager takes a hit off his joint

and clicks on the little red heart of his Favorite Places.

Killwithme.com loads.

When he sees Jerry Carver strapped to the table, he laughs so

hard that he chokes on his smoke, but then he abruptly

notices something unbelievable. He puts his nose right up to

the screen to be sure. No way! He flies out of the hammock,

almost dropping his laptop, and rushes over to the fence--

TEENAGE BOY:

Jesse! Yo, Jesse!

INT. TASK FORCE COMMAND CENTER -- RIVERTON -- LATER.

Box, Griffin, and other members of the Task Force watch

Carver on a large plasma computer monitor. The Viewer

counter reads 4,112,000. Estimated Time of Death is just

above 15 hours. Marsh works intently, off to the side, on

her laptop.

53.

BOX:

Wait, I know this guy!

GRIFFIN:

Me, too. That--That’s not-

PETERSON, 30’s, a DEPUTY SHERIFF, enters, a bit winded-

PETERSON (O.S.)

Jerry Carver.

GRIFFIN:

Right! A reporter.

Peterson hands over a headshot from the C-Span website.

PETERSON:

Until last year, when he moved to

D.C. to host a show for C-Span. He

visited his mother this morning in

Silver Springs. Then he was

supposed to take a look at an

antique train set he wanted to buy,

and be home by noon for a family

cookout. He never showed. At half

past one, the neighbor’s kid called

and said Jerry was being, and I

quote “crucified on a Ping-Pong

table.”

Brooks enters, starting to unwind a bit. He walks over to

the screen.

BROOKS:

Now, how on earth is he going to

control this man’s time of death?

He’s threatening to drain him?

How? Those are no deeper than

paper cuts.

Marsh swings her chair away from her computer screen.

MARSH:

It’s not the cuts. It’s his blood.

She screen-captures the I.V. bag hanging above Carver’s head,

as well as a small metal box, through which its contents pass

on their way to Carver’s chest.

MARSH (cont’d)

This box regulates the amount of

the solution flowing into Carver.

See the cable?

(MORE)

54.

MARSH(cont'd)

It’s connected to his computer.

Which means he has complete control

over the dosage.

BROOKS:

Dosage of what?

She screen-captures Carver’s agonized features and magnifies

them.

MARSH:

His nose is starting to bleed. I’m

guessing the bag contains some sort

of anti-coagulant.

BOX:

(eyes on the screen)

.

So the more people who visit the

site, the more drug is released,

and the faster Carver bleeds?

MARSH:

Yup.

BROOKS:

Wonderful.

PETERSON:

(studying the counter)

The numbers of viewers is moving

slower than last time. Is there

any chance people are losing

interest?

BOX:

No, they’re just more interested in

fireworks.

MARSH:

For now.

BROOKS:

Well, it’s high time we talked some

sense to them.

Marsh throws an alarmed look at Brooks, as he picks up a

telephone.

INT. BALTIMORE CITY HALL CORRIDOR -- EARLY EVENING.

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