The Box -- Rob Borcic

A box arrived on my front step one morning. It didn't look like anything special. It wasn't addressed to me. It wasn't addressed to anyone. No markings at all. Just a plain box about a foot square. It was grey, like the sky on a rainy day. It looked like it was made out of a solid piece of plastic - no seams were visible.

I decided to bring it inside. It wasn't too heavy - maybe twenty pounds. I put it on the dining room table.

Tapping it with my finger revealed nothing. Rapping my knuckles on it elicited a small sound. I guessed that it was a solid cube of... something. I sat and stared at it for a minute. It didn't move, it didn't change color. It didn't do anything at all, but still, it worried me. There was no good reason for me to worry, but there was no good reason for it to be at my house either. If it had been delivered, there'd be a shipping manifest, an address label, something. If it was a joke, it wasn't a very good one. Who put it there? And why? Was it some kind of listening device? Camera ? Mind control? A bomb? I went outside to talk to Greg, my neighbor. He answered the door before I had a chance to knock.

"You've got to see this! This is so amazing." He led me to his kitchen. "Well? Have you ever seen anything like it?" His box was dark green - like a well fertilized lawn.

"Yup. Mine's a different color, though."

"What? You've got one too? You can't! You're just a..."

"A what?"

"A great guy! Really! I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything. I'm just surprised that you got one too."

"Why wouldn't I? I'll bet Randy's got one too."

"No. Not Randy. You, I can understand, being an engineer and all that. And me, of course. But Randy? He's... He..."

"He's what?"

"He won't have one."

"Don't be so sure. Let's go see." I started out. Greg took a long look at his box and then turned to follow.

There was no answer when I knocked. I tried the doorbell.

"Go away!" Randy's voice, from behind the door.

"Randy, it's Rob and Greg. Did you find a box this morning?"

"No. Now go away!"

"We both found boxes at our doors this morning. Didn't you get one too?"

"Get away from my house, or I'll shoot you. I have a gun and I will use it!"

"OK. We're leaving now." We walked back towards Greg's house.

"See. I knew he wouldn't have one."

"I think he does - he's just hiding it. He's acting really weird. And so are you. What's going on here?"

"You're just jealous!"

"Of what? Your stupid box? I don't give a damn about your box. I've got my own."

"But your's isn't green. Green is better."

"How did you know mine wasn't green? Were you spying on me? Did you put it there? What is it? Tell me, you bastard!" The crack of a gunshot interrupted me. "What the hell was that?" Another shot.

"It's coming from over there. Near Victor's house."

We ran across the street. A third shot. Definitely Victor's house. The door is open. Victor's wife is lying face down in the doorway. Blood is pooling around her body. Greg steps over her into the house.

"Greg! Are you nuts? Where are you going?"

"I've got to know if he's got one."

"He might shoot you!" I followed him in. Another body is on the couch. Their daughter. Victor was sitting cross legged on the floor, his body slumped forward over a box. The box was the same color as the blood, dripping off onto the carpet.