FRANCINE:
H. H. Holmes.
DEREK:
Sherlock Holmes?
FRANCINE:
H. H. Holmes, Derek – he was a real person, a serial killer, about a hundred years ago. He... built a hotel in Chicago, but it was like something out of the Saw movies – all the rooms were designed to kill the guests in insane and twisted ways. The people staying at his hotel would have money on them because they were on vacation. After he killed the people he would keep their money and dispose of their bodies by melting the flesh away in an acid bath and selling the skeletons to medical schools.
DEREK:
How do you know all that?
FRANCINE:
Because I work in a frigging bookstore, Derek! I don’t sit on my ass all day watching Conan O’Brien reruns and trying to figure out how to tell the exact same joke with different words!
DEREK:
Everybody does that!
FRANCINE:
I’m out there making money instead of dreaming of being Jon Stewart’s bitch!
DEREK:
OK, that does it!
FRANCINE:
What are you going to do, Derek? Walk out? Good luck with that! You wanted to know who does something like this, and I told you!
DEREK:
Yeah, H. H. Holmes! And I bet he got caught!
FRANCINE:
Actually, he didn’t. He got away with it, moved to Texas and started killing all over again.
DEREK:
But that was a century ago, Francine! You couldn’t do something like that today without getting caught!
FRANCINE:
Well, apparently this guy Winkler has!
DEREK:
We have to signal someone for help.
FRANCINE:
No-one’s going to see us.
DEREK:
We have to try, Francine!
FRANCINE:
Fine.
DEREK:
Do you have a lipstick?
FRANCINE:
Are you serious?
DEREK:
Just give me the goddam lipstick.
SOUND:
FRANCINE UNZIPS HER BAG, RUMMAGES THROUGH IT.
FRANCINE:
Here.
DEREK:
Terrific.
SOUND:
HE TAKES THE TOP OFF THE LIPSTICK.
DEREK:
Now let’s do this...
SOUND:
THE LIPSTICK SQUEAKS AGAINST THE WINDOW AS HE WRITES.
DEREK:
(PROUD OF HIMSELF) How do you like that, huh?
FRANCINE:
Are you shitting me?
DEREK:
What? No! It’s a cry for help – H-E-L-P spells “help”.
FRANCINE:
Terrific. Now how about writing it backwards, so people on the outside can see it?
DEREK:
(REALIZATION) Oh shit, you’re right -- I’ll do it again but write it backwards!
SOUND:
HE STARTS RUBBING THE WRITING OFF.
FRANCINE:
Forget it, Derek.
DEREK:
I’m doing it, I’m doing it!
FRANCINE:
I said forget it. You’re just making a huge mess.
DEREK:
I need some water to wash it off.
FRANCINE:
Fine, I’ll try the bathroom. (SARCASTICALLY) Oh, wait-
DEREK:
Do you have any better ideas, Francine? Scratch that – do you have any ideas?
FRANCINE:
Opening the window was my idea!
DEREK:
And it sucked!
FRANCINE:
You know, you can be a real bitch sometimes.
DEREK:
So can you, that’s why we’re perfect for one another.
FRANCINE:
(SURPRISING HERSELF, SHE EMITS A LAUGH) We’re perfect alright – we’re going to be perfectly dead.
DEREK:
(PAUSE) I could try writing “help” again.
FRANCINE:
Nobody’ll see it – it’s too small, too far away from the next building. This is hopeless. Look at this place - it’s nearly half the size it was.
SOUND:
THE WALLS MOVE AGAIN (DIALOG UNDER).
FRANCINE:
Now it’s half the size.
DEREK:
Do you think the walls are closing in faster? How much time do you think we have…
FRANCINE:
I can’t think because of the noise.
DEREK
Yeah, there’s no way the people in the apartment below can’t hear that.
FRANCINE:
Maybe there is no-one in the apartment below.
DEREK:
Huh?
FRANCINE:
Think about it – we haven’t seen anyone. Not in the lobby, not in the elevator, not up here. Elevator operator’s ’supposedly’ on break. Or maybe there is no elevator operator.
DEREK:
You seriously think the entire building-
FRANCINE:
Is empty. Yep. I do.
DEREK:
How could Winkler pull it offt?
FRANCINE:
He said he owns the building.
DEREK:
And he just uses it for- - killing people?
FRANCINE:
Why not?
DEREK:
It’s insane.
FRANCINE:
I know.
DEREK:
He’s insane. How can he keep getting away with this? Sooner or later, someone’s gonna come looking for us, he’s got to know that.
FRANCINE:
Why?
DEREK:
Because he’s not stupid, just psychotic.
FRANCINE:
But why would anybody come looking for us? Did you tell anybody about the ad?
DEREK:
I told you.
FRANCINE:
Besides me.
DEREK:
Who else would I tell? I mean, you’re my girlfriend and my best friend. (PAUSE) Did you tell anyone? At the bookstore?
FRANCINE:
Sure.
DEREK:
(HOPEFULLY) They’d remember, that right?
FRANCINE:
The exact address? I doubt it. And that’s no good to us right now. We’ll be crushed to bits long before anyone notices we’re missing.
DEREK:
I know, I just want someone to punish that son of a bitch for doing this to us!
SOUND:
THE WALLS MOVE AGAIN.
DEREK:
Can he hear us?
FRANCINE:
It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Maybe he can hear us, but no-one else can – there’s nobody next door, nobody below us...
DEREK:
(INSPIRATION STRIKES) That’s it!
FRANCINE:
What’s it?
DEREK:
How we get out of here! It’s like an intelligence test!
FRANCINE:
An intelligence test? That everyone else failed?
DEREK:
That’s right! “Are you smart enough to get out of here”? And no-one else was!
FRANCINE:
So how do we get out?
DEREK:
Through the apartment below us.
FRANCINE:
Brilliant. That’s brilliant, Derek.
DEREK:
Thanks.
FRANCINE:
(SUDDENLY ANNOYED) And just how the hell are we supposed to get into the apartment below?!
DEREK:
Through the floor! We rip up the carpet, tear up the floorboards, I don’t care if I lose a finger, at least we’ll get out of here!
FRANCINE:
(AFTER A PAUSE WHILE THIS SINKS IN) That is brilliant!
DEREK:
I know!
FRANCINE:
(LAUGHS HYSTERICALLY) Derek, I love you!
DEREK:
I love you too, Francine!
FRANCINE:
We’re going to live! – right?
DEREK:
Yes, we are!
DEREK & FRANCINE:
(BOTH LAUGH, CONGRATULATING EACH OTHER)
SOUND:
THE WALLS MOVE AGAIN.
DEREK:
Whoa! Whoa!
FRANCINE:
We’ve got to hurry!
DEREK:
Where do we start?
FRANCINE:
Does it matter?
DEREK:
It matters - we’ve got to find the right spot, and we’ve got to do this together, Francine!
FRANCINE:
OK, uh... Here! Here!
DEREK:
I got it. Get your fingers underneath.
FRANCINE:
Ow!
DEREK:
What?
FRANCINE:
Broke a nail. It’s nothing. Let’s just do this.
SOUND:
THEY TEAR UP THE CARPET – SOME RIPPING.
FRANCINE & DEREK:
(STRAIN DURING THE TEARING UP, THEN SOME COUGHING, WHICH GIVES WAY TO SHOCK)
DEREK:
Dammit.
FRANCINE:
It’s a concrete floor, isn’t it?
SOUND:
DEREK TAPS THE CONCRETE.
DEREK:
Yeah.
FRANCINE:
Shit!
DEREK:
(AFTER A LONG PAUSE) How do you think he picks them? I mean us.
His victims.
FRANCINE:
I guess it’s whoever’s dumb enough to answer the ad – I doubt it’s a complicated selection process.
DEREK:
But why us? Why pick on us? We can’t be the only ones who called him.
Does he think we’re, like, bad people, who should be punished?
FRANCINE:
Who the hell knows?
DEREK:
We don’t deserve this!
FRANCINE:
Nobody deserves this, Derek.
SOUND:
THE WALLS MOVE AGAIN. THIS TIME, IT’S NOT A BRIEF NOISE. IT CONTINUES UNTIL THE END OF THE ACT.
FRANCINE:
Here we go again.
DEREK:
(AFTER A PAUSE TO ESTABLISH THAT THE SOUND ISN’T
