Number Three

(One act play)

 

SCENE: A warehouse office. Classically industrial. It is night outside, but no way to tell, even through the one large picture window along one of the long walls which looks down on a vast production filled with a web of convey belts on every level, high, medium and low, which carry cartons from aisles of pallet racks where an army of men pick boxes off pallets and onto the convey belts.

Roger, the warehouse manager, and the son of the company’s owner, stands before the window looking out. Hank, a supervisor, stands slightly to one side. Around them, a number of desks are piled high with paper work, and are cluttered with ashtrays filled with cigarette butts, and coffee cups half full with abandoned coffee. Near the window are several wall phones as well as a public address system, and several speakers.

 

ROGER: (Slamming down his clip board onto the cluttered surface of a desk)

            Two days.

            You tell me you’d been futzing with that belt for two days and didn’t tell me it needed fixing.

 

HANK:

            We thought we could hold off to the weekend and fix it then.

            You know your father. He’d have a fit if we tried to halt production.

 

ROGER:

            And nobody heard the tearing.

 

HANK:

            Not until it was too late.

 

ROGER:

            And you say we can’t get the parts to fix it.

 

HANK:

            They don’t exist.

            These conveyors are sold ancient; somebody’s going to have to cannibalize another system to get parts for us.

 

ROGER:

            Meantime, we’re going to have to do something to keep up production.

 

HANK:

            What can we do?

            We can’t have people carting the stuff to the loading dock with hand trucks.

 

ROGER:

            We can start up number three until we get number nine fixed.

 

HANK:

            Number three?

            Do you want to give your old man a heart attack?

 

ROGER:

            It’s that or fall further behind. You know how my old man hates that.

 

HANK:

            But number three?
            None of the old timers will go near it.

ROGER: (looking up at the conveyor closest to the ceiling)

            Then reassign some of the newer men.

 

HANK:

            That’s asking for trouble.

 

ROGER:

            You’re not telling me you believe all that old guff

 

HANK:

            You’re father does.

 

ROGER:

            My father believes a lot of things.

 

HANK:

            People have seen things.

            Some got hurt.

            Some have even died.

 

ROGER:

            It’s still superstitious crap.

            People get hurt, even die in this industry all the time.

 

HANK:

            You’ve never worked number three.

            So you don’t know what it’s like.

 

ROGER:

            Damn it, Hank.

            I’ve heard all this since I was a kid, mysterious voices and shapes.

 

HANK:

            The spirits of the dead.

 

ROGER:

            Echoes and a vivid imagination.

 

HANK:

            You’re father knows better.

            He saw them, too.

 

ROGER:

            My own man believes in leprechaun, too.

            Just get on the phone and get someone up there.

            We have a schedule to keep

 

HANK:

            Maybe you should call your father first.

 

ROGER:

            I’m boss here now.

            If I have to do it myself, I won’t need you as a supervisor.

            Call somebody to start up number three or I will.

 

HANK: (grabbing for a phone)

            All right, I’m calling.

(then into the phone)

The boss says we have to start up number three

            Don’t give me lip.

            Send up Kelly and…

            Tell him to be careful.

(hangs up the phone and turns to Roger)

            I sure hope you know what you’re doing.

 

ROGER:

            I know what my father will say if we fall behind.

            He’s say I’m incompetent, even though he’s the one who pushed and pushed for me to take over here.

            He’s never really had any faith in my ability to make decisions.

 

HANK:

            He may question your abilities more after this.

 

ROGER:

             Maybe.

And maybe its time when came out of the dark ages and stopped believing in old wives tales.

HANK:

            Sometimes there’s wisdom in those tales.

 

ROGER:

            About ghosts and demons?

            Are you crazy, too?

 

HANK:

            Being cautious is not crazy.

 

ROGER:

            Leaving a whole line empty for years because someone once said they saw a ghost there is crazy.

 

HANK:

            It was more than one person.

 

 

(The phone rings. Hank grabs it up,

 

            Are you sure?

 

( then holds his hand over the mouth piece to speak with Roger)

 

            We got trouble.

 

ROGER:

            What kind of trouble?

 

HANK:

            It’s Kelly.

            He’s up top on number three, but he’s freaking out.

 

ROGER:

            What’s the matter with him, is he scared of heights?

 

HANK:
            Scared of ghosts is more like it.

 

ROGER: (Grabbing the public address microphone)

            Kelly, get your ass down from there right now.

 

HANK: (listening to the phone but speaking to Roger)

            That’s not helping anything, Boss

            Billy says, Kelly’s too scared to move. He keeps going on about the ghost killing him if he moves.

 

ROGER:

            For Christ’s sake

            Is every body in this place crazy?

 

(speaks into the PA system again)

 

            You come down from there, Kelly, or you’re fired.

 

HANK(relaying from the telephone)

            Billy says, Kelly won’t come down.

            Better no job than no head.

 

ROGER:

            This is insane!

            Can’t we send someone up to bring him down?

 

HANK:

            No one else will go.

 

ROGER:

            So we’re just going to let him sit there?

 

HANK:

            Maybe now’s a good time to call your father.

 

ROGER:

            What the hell for?

 

HANK:

            He’s been through this before. He’ll know what to do.

 

ROGER:

            No way.

            My old man already thinks I’m the world’s biggest screw up. I’m not going to give him any more evidence to use against me.

            I have to deal with this myself.

 

HANK:

            You can’t solve this by shouting at Kelly.

 

ROGER:

            Do you expect me to go up there and get him down myself?

 

HANK:

            You sent him up there.

 

ROGER:

            Look I’ve heard all the stories my father tells, about the poor fool – what was his name, Johnson --  who lost his head when the belt broke, and how he hung there like that for hours as people scrambled to get him down.

            But I don’t believe that the man’s ghost haunts number three collecting heads of others in hopes of finding his own.

 

HANK:

            And yet you have to admit other people have lost their heads.

 

ROGER:

            One other. A coincidence

 

HANK:

            But a lot more have fallen or gotten hurt.

 

ROGER:

            So?

 

HANK:

            So you’re afraid to go up there and see for yourself.

 

ROGER:

            I’ve been up there – once.

 

HANK:

            You have? When?

 

ROGER:

            When I first started here. I was young and foolish, and wanted to see if there was any truth to all the talk.

 

HANK:

            And was there any truth to the stories?

 

ROGER: (laughs uncomfortably)

            I thought so at the time.

            I know I heard things when I climbed up, strange voices, maybe laughing.

 

HANK:

            Did you see anything?

 

ROGER:

            Nothing I would admit to later.

 

HANK:

            But you did see something?

 

ROGER:

            I was young, and impressionable.

            All those stories my father told filled my head.

 

HANK:

            What did you think you saw?

 

ROGER:

            Mist or smoke.

            I don’t know.

            At least, that’s what I thought I saw at first.

 

HANK:

            And then?

 

ROGER:

            Faces and shapes.

            I’m sure it was just my imagination.

 

HANK:

            That’s all?

 

ROGER:

            I thought they were whispering at me.

 

HANK:

            What did they say?

 

ROGER:

            They kept calling my name.

 

HANK:

            Your name?

 

ROGER:

            They thought I was my father.

            That’s who they really wanted, I think.

 

HANK:

            You’re father? Why?

 

ROGER:

            They seem to be blaming him for something.

 

HANK:

            You’re father was up there when Old Johnson lost his head.

            Do you think there’s a connection?

ROGER:

            I asked my father that later. He went into a rage.

            At the time I thought he was angry about risking my life by going up there.

 

HANK:

            Now you think differently?

 

ROGER:

            I don’t know what I think.

 

HANK:

            What do we do about Kelly?

 

ROGER:

            Have Billy ask him if he hears any voices.

 

HANK: (Into the phone)

            Billy, you there?

            Ask Kelly if he hears any voices.

            You sure?

(Holds his hand over the mouth piece as he turns to Roger)

            Billy says Kelly keeps hearing your name – of if your right, your father’s name.

            You think maybe we should call your old man NOW?

 

ROGER:

            My father has managed to avoid going up there all these years, I don’t think he’ll do so now, not even to save Kelly’s life.

 

HANK:

            We can’t just leave Kelly up there.

            Billy says he’s scared enough to jump.

 

ROGER: (putting down his clip board on one of the desks, then heads towards the door

            We won’t leave him up there

            I sent him up there, I’ll get him down.

 

HANK:

            Even if it means losing your head?

 

ROGER (Pauses, and nods)

            I’m my father’s son.

 

(fade)