EXT. 10TH FLOOR BALCONY - NIGHT
KATHLEEN MCLAUGHLIN, 24, known as Kitty by her friends, stands on her balcony on the tenth floor of her apartment building, speaking rapid fire into a cell phone.
Yes, Mom. I love my new apartment. My balcony has a great view of the city.
She pauses, listening to the voice on the other end of the phone. She rolls her eyes at the voice on the other end.
It's not summer camp, Mom. I start tomorrow. Yes, I'll be careful. I know, Mom.
Kicking off her shoes, she walks in her stockings over to a patio chair and sits.
Kitty hears the voice, and looks for the source of it. After a moment, she turns back to the phone.
I'm going to get off the phone and rest for a few minutes before dinner. I'll call you later this week. I love you, too. Bye, Mom.
Kitty touches the button to hang up the phone, then picks up the wine bottle on the patio table and pours herself a glass. She stands at the railing, looking out over the city skyline.
Kitty looks over at the balcony next to hers, but there is no one outside. She looks at the balcony on the other side, and it also sits empty.
No answer. Kitty shrugs and steps back inside her apartment.
INT. OFFICES OF THE NEW YORK COURIER - MORNING
Kitty stops at the front desk and signs in. ENRIQUE SANDOVAL, 27, steps forward, hand extended to shake.
Miss McLaughlin? I'm Enrique Sandoval, and you and I are office mates. I'll be showing you around and introducing you to everyone.
Kitty shook his hand.
I'll give you time to put your things down. Oh, by the way, this came for you. It was delivered this morning.
He hands her a large, bubble wrap lined, manila envelope. She followed him down the long hallway to the office they shared, and placed her computer bag on the floor. She sat down in her chair and picked up the letter opener on her desk. Sliding it under the flap of the envelope, she slits it open and turns the envelope upside down over her desk. A dog biscuit falls out, wrapped in a piece of paper. On the paper are the words 10 hours. Enrique stares at the dog biscuit.
So you have a dog?
Not exactly. I'm not really sure what this is. Can we do our tour later? I want to see what I can find out about this.
Kitty reaches down and picks up her laptop and sets it on her desk.
Sure. No problem. It is 10:00 now. We have a meeting at 11:00 and you have a welcome lunch at 12:30.
Kitty nods and turns back to her computer, and types in various search terms.
INT. NEW YORK COURIER ARCHIVES - AFTERNOON
Title: FOUR HOURS LATER
Kitty sits at a table, looking at back issues of the newspaper. She folds one and sets it aside. Opening another, she finds the article she wants and begins to read. She copies the article, closes the paper and sets it aside.
She looks through the other back issues, but finds nothing else she wants. Stacking the papers neatly on the table, she leaves.
INT. KITTY'S OFFICE IN NYC COURIER BUILDING - LATE AFTERNOON
Kitty opens the door to her office, to find another manila envelope, just like the last, sitting on her desk. Enrique hangs up the phone as she studies the envelope.
Another dog biscuit?
I don't know.
She turns the envelope upside down and another dog biscuit falls out, wrapped in paper, along with a thick postcard sized paper. The paper wrapping the dog biscuit reads: The end is near. 4 hours. Picking up the postcard, she reads, and then freezes. Enrique walks over and takes the card from her.
Funeral services will be held for Miss Kitty McLaughlin, 24, at Boyd's funeral home, on the corner of 5th and Main, day after tomorrow. Wait, this is an obituary for...
Kitty rises and walks to the window, staring out at the city.
For me. I know.
Well, do you know who sent it?
Kitty turns and looks at him.
The same person who sent the dog biscuit, but other than that, no.
She hands Enrique the copies she made of the archived newspaper articles.
I went down to the archives to see if I could find any other instances of this happening. All I found is what you see there.
Enrique reads silently.
Wait, all this says is that there was a man who died after being attacked by a dog. It seems he lived in an apartment in mid town.
Kitty stops and studies Enrique. Enrique thinks for a moment.
I remember hearing something about this case. The victim received letters and dog biscuits before he died, too, and his death was consistent with a dog attack, but no one ever found the dog or any enemies.
He paused, thinking.
I believe the coroner ruled that the cause of death was a fall off of his balcony. He didn't have a dog, though. There were rumors that it was some sort of ghost dog or something.
On the tenth floor.
Yeah. Does that matter?
That's my apartment building, and I live on the tenth floor.
Enrique stared at her.
Oh! What are you going to do?
Kitty paced in front of the window, thinking.
I don't know.
EXT. KITTY'S APARTMENT - EVENING
Kitty has a drawer open, packing a suitcase on her bed. Her phone lies on the bed beside her, and she speaks into the air as she folds a shirt and places it in the suitcase.
I've arranged to have my things shipped back. They are in one of those pod things, and should be arriving early next week.
She closes the drawer and zips the suitcase. Then, she takes the phone off of speaker.
My flight leaves in an hour. I'm leaving as soon as the taxi comes. Can you or Dad meet me at the airport? I'll explain later.
She hefts the suitcase to the door, and glances at the balcony. A big, black dog stands there. Kitty grabs her suitcase and runs to the door.
Thanks, Mom. You're the best.
EXT. STREET - EVENING
She reaches the street and the dog is waiting for her. She freezes and the dog barks, inching closer. Her taxi pulls up and she sprints for it and slams the door just as the dog reaches her. She sighs, relieved that she made it.
INT. AIRPLANE CABIN - NIGHT
Kitty settles into her seat, ready for the trip home. She retrieves her carry on bag from under the seat in front of her, and reaches inside for the book she brought. She pulls out a manila envelope. She opens it to find a dog biscuit inside, with a paper wrapped around it, reading 1 hour.
FADE TO BLACK