EXT. BECKER HOUSE – NIGHT
Casey Becker's large farmhouse sits alone out on a rural roadway. A swing rocks back and forth.
Casey is, yet again, home alone. She's on the phone with the police.
CASEY: Yes! The school psychologist! You need to check him out, I think he's the killer! Ugh, do I have to tell you what my relationship to him is? Yes, go ahead. Fine. Thank you!
With a grunt of frustration, she hangs up. She lies down on the couch, emotions swirling.
HER CELL PHONE RINGS.
She doesn't even look at the caller ID.
CASEY: Hello?
GHOSTFACE: Hello.
CASEY: Yes?
GHOSTFACE: Who is this?
CASEY: Who are you trying to reach?
GHOSTFACE: What number is this?
CASEY: What number are you trying to reach?
GHOSTFACE: I don't know.
CASEY: Look, I don't have the patience for bullshit. You got the wrong number.
She ends the call and storms to the kitchen, cursing.
INT. KITCHEN – NIGHT
Casey opens the fridge. Her phone rings again.
CASEY: Hello?
GHOSTFACE: Why don't you want to talk to me?
CASEY: You know what – I have a lot of shit going on right now, so if you could just move on to the next person on your call list, that'd be great, m'kay? M'kay.
She hangs up. She takes a swig of vodka. The phone rings. She jumps in surprise, smashing the glass of vodka on the counter, staining her clothes. A piece of broken glass falls down into the garbage disposal.
Casey grimaces. She can't let the disposal get jammed. She rolls up her sleeve and sticks her fingers down the disposal, feeling around for the piece of broken glass.
Behind her, in the doorway, Ghostface appears. He watches her. Next to him is the switch to activate the garbage disposal.
We zoom in on Casey's fingers, in the disposal. She pricks herself on the broken glass … a small cut.
CASEY: Shit!
She pulls her finger out, sucking on it. Grimacing through the pain, she stinks her hand back down the disposal, trying to fish out the piece of glass.
Behind her, Ghostface's arm raises. His hand feels the wall, inching closer to the switch to turn on the disposal.
Casey's fingers dance above the glass.
Ghostface's fingers are on the switch.
CASEY: You know what – fuck it!
She pulls her hand out, arms in the air, as if to say "I'm done."
Behind her, Ghostface has vanished. She pours herself another drink and sips it, heading back into the living room.
Her phone rings again.
CASEY: Hello? Yes? Who is this and I swear to God if it's another prank -.
GHOSTFACE: I can assure you it's not …
CASEY: You again – Steve, I swear to God -.
GHOSTFACE: Who's Steve?
CASEY: My boyfriend. And he doesn't like it when people mess around with me. Not one bit.
GHOSTFACE: Then I'll be careful. Wouldn't want – your boyfriend – to get pissed.
CASEY: Look, is there a reason you keep calling me, or do I have to call the police?
GHOSTFACE: Do you believe in multiverse theory?
CASEY: What?
GHOSTFACE: The idea that there could be parallel universes somewhere … alternaverses. Perhaps another you. And another Steve. And another me …
CASEY: Sorry. I don't listen to that nerd-shit.
GHOSTFACE: Such a shame. You see … in another world, in another universe, you would have been the FIRST VICTIM!
CASEY: Excuse me?
GHOSTFACE: That's a lovely tree you have outside. In another universe, the other me would have made you the opening kill of this movie. He would have hung you up from that tree and gutted you like a fish!
CASEY: I'm calling the police.
GHOSTFACE: They'll never make it in time, we're out in the middle of nowhere.
CASEY: What do you want?!
GHOSTFACE: TO SEE WHAT YOUR INSIDES LOOK LIKE! But in another universe, I would have wasted your potential. You see, you would've been the nice girl, the girl next door, the one that the audience rooted for. But in this timeline you're such a miserable bitch, I decided to take your friend Megan first …
CASEY: You killed her? And Jenna?
GHOSTFACE: And Jake. And a few others by now. But you see Casey, there's a little thing called 'character development'. I waited to see if you could change. If the bitch inside could really turn out to have a heart of gold. To try to be a better person, make amends with the people she hurt, break things off with the teacher she fucked. And you didn't disappoint! Perhaps the audience will root for your survival after all!
CASEY: You might want to guess again, because I know a few tricks of my own! And my boyfriend is on his way right now!
GHOSTFACE: Oh, he is. But for the moment he's a little tied up. Go on, Casey. Turn on the patio light.
Casey turns – her backyard is shrouded in darkness, mist rising from her pool.
GHOSTFACE: Turn it on and say hello!
Trembling, Casey flips a switch.
STEVE is tied up to a lawn chair, gagged and struggling.
CASEY: Steve!
GHOSTFACE: Oh … but he's not your boyfriend though, is he? He's not the one you were fucking all day and night for the past year, huh? Go on … turn on the second light and let's meet Contestant #2!
Trembling, Casey flicks another switch.
MR. LOVEDGE is bound to another lawn chair next to Steve. He too is struggling, confused, gagged.
CASEY: Let them go!
GHOSTFACE: All in good time. We're gonna play a little game.
CASEY: No …
GHOSTFACE: Then they both die right now! Which is it?
CASEY: What kind of game …
GHOSTFACE: Turn out the lights … you'll see
Casey flips the switch and sinks down to her knees.
GHOSTFACE: Here's how we'll play. I'll ask you a question for Steve … get both right, they both live! Get one right, only one dies! Get them both wrong and can you guess what'll happen Casey?
CASEY: They both die …
GHOSTFACE: Ding, ding, ding! I guess what they say about dumb blondes isn't so true after all! Are you ready?
CASEY: No … please … just let us all go …
GHOSTFACE: Oh, sure, because you asked so nicely. And while I'm at it, why don't I just go and untie them and hand myself in to the police?
CASEY: Please …
GHOSTFACE: First question – for our pervert professor – Name the killer from Halloween.
CASEY: Michael! Michael Myers!
GHOSTFACE: Yes! Looks like Mr. Touchy-feely gets to live to molest another day! Now for Steve … !
CASEY: Bring it on you bastard! I've watched enough Netflix to bat your questions right out of the park! You think you can fuck with me – me?!
GHOSTFACE: Fine. I was going to give you an easy one. Have it your way. Name the hunchback assistant to Frankenstein in the 1931 film!
CASEY: Pfft! Everyone knows that Igor is Dr. Frankenstein's hunchback assistant!
(Beat)
GHOSTFACE: Is that … your final answer …?
CASEY: Yes. Now you let them go! Those are the rules!
GHOSTFACE: I'm sorry, Casey. I tried to give you an out, but you're too arrogant to take it. Like all dumb cheerleaders!
CASEY: Fuck you! Now let them go!
GHOSTFACE: Unfortunately, the character of Igor didn't come around until Son of Frankenstein. He wasn't a hunchback either, but a cripple played by Bela Lugosi. In the original 1931 Frankenstein, the hunchback assistant was named Fritz. And Frankenstein wasn't a doctor in the movie either, he was only a student!
CASEY: No …
GHOSTFACE: Do you know what happened to Fritz in the movie?
Casey is backing away, trembling. The lights go out.
GHOSTFACE: He taunted the monster. Thought he could screw around and not pay any consequences. When they found him, he was swaying from a ceiling rafter.
(Beat)
GHOSTFACE: That tree outside is looking pretty good right about now …
The lights in the backyard BLARE ON.
Steve's stomach has been completely OBLITERATED! His innards sit on his lap in a steaming pile
CASEY: NOOOO!
Next to him, Mr. Lovedge's eyes widen in horror. He screams behind his gag, struggling in his chair. His chair slides back several inches … it hovers over the edge of the pool. He jumps up and down, taking the seat with him … his chair falls backwards into the pool.
Without thinking, without even taking any time to consider, Casey pockets her phone, wrenches the backdoor open and dives into the pool.
The water bubbles behind Steve's swaying head as he finishes his death spasms.
For a moment, there's silence.
Then Casey and Mr. Lovedge both abruptly burst from the bottom of the pool. Casey drags him out and unto the pool deck. She reaches into her pocket for her phone, ready to dial 9-11. Her phone is completely wet. It's screen is blank – frozen.
CASEY: Fuck!
She rips off Mr. Lovedge's gag and he spits up water. She sits him upright.
MR. LOVEDGE: You saved me.
CASEY: Who did this? Did you see his face?
MR. LOVEDGE: No … he came behind. The last thing I remember was you freaking out and running away and someone striking me in the head.
Casey stands up. She's running things over in her mind.
CASEY: Why the fuck do you have Sidney Prescott's pictures all over your office.
He stands up.
MR. LOVEDGE: I can explain … she's been to see me. The trauma of her mother's death. But her will to survive, it was inspirational. I … I have those pictures because she inspires me.
CASEY: Are you fucking her too?
MR. LOVEDGE: What? No? You were the only one …
He limps towards the house, wrapping his arm around her, shielding her eyes from Steve's corpse.
MR. LOVEDGE: Do you have another phone? We have to call the police. As for the killer – I don't think he'll be so bold with the two of us. Probably long gone by now. Phone?
Casey points to the kitchen.
CASEY: There's a cordless.
He nods and runs into the kitchen. She plays with her phone, trying to get it to work.
Mr. Lovedge returns, holding a cordless phone.
MR. LOVEDGE: It's not working … the lines have been cut.
CASEY: There's got to be a way. Don't you have a cell?
MR. LOVEDGE: Got wet in the pool.
CASEY: Shit. There's got to be a wire … something.
MR. LOVEDGE: Speaking of wires …
A cord wraps around Casey's neck and she gags, struggling! She thrashes about as Mr. Lovedge garrets her, holding her tightly.
CASEY: You!
MR. LOVEDGE: Well … technically no. I'm not the killer. But I do plan to benefit from his massacre. Stroke of luck for me that he struck now …
He breathes in her hair, sniffing it.
MR. LOVEDGE: He called you. Attacked you. It'll be conceivable for the police to believe that your death was his handiwork. I'm sorry, Casey. I can't let you blab about me and jeopardize my career … or Sidney … how I've wanted her … now you, you were just an easy fuck. But I've spent the last year grooming her, gaining her trust … she'll be mine soon enough, once the killer is caught … now you, how about you do me a favor and just DIE A LITTLE!
Casey struggles in his grip. He tightens the garret, practically pulling her off her feet. Her arms wave around – her vision is swimming … but she does see something reflected in a picture frame on the wall. A slim white face …
Mr. Lovedge stiffens. A blade protrudes from his chest. Blood runs down his mouth. He releases Casey, his arms twitching as Ghostface runs his knife down his back, severing his spine.
Casey is rooted to the spot. With a jerk, Ghostface yanks his knife out of Mr. Lovedge's body which collapses to the ground in a heap.
CASEY: Shit.
She spins, heading for the front door, Ghostface jumping over Mr. Lovedge's body.
She reaches the door, fumbling with the lock
THUNK!
Ghostface's blade sinks into the wood door, missing her face by centimeters. Casey spins, running up a spiral staircase, the killer hot on her heels. She reaches the second floor, throwing end tables and vases down, hoping to slow him down.
Ghostface dodges each one.
Casey enters her bedroom, locking the door, sticking a chair underneath. Ghostface begins ramming the door.
Her mind is racing. She notices a tree branch outside her bedroom window.
Behind her, the door is splintering.
Casey wrenches open her window and climbs onto the windowsill. Behind her, the door finally gives way and the killer barrels into her room.
Now or never! Casey jumps onto the tree branch, just as the killer's gloved hand lashes out, grasping nothing but air. Casey hugs the tree branch – turns. Ghostface slams his hand down on the windowsill in frustration before racing out of the room.
Casey breathes, utilizing her talent in cheerleading and gymnastics. She swings from the branch onto a lower one. And a lower one.
She lands, catlike, on the grass and begins running away from her house, towards the road.
A car approaches. She races out into the middle of the street, hands waving. The car rolls to a stop. Inside is Judy Hicks.
The soundtrack thuds.
JUDY: You need help?
CASEY: Please! Help me!
JUDY: Get in. (creepy smile as Casey enters the passenger seat) I'll take you wherever you need to go …
FADE OUT