by Stephen King
Ain't that just like Alton and Melinda Hatcher's daughter. Perfect.
(grows serious)
People know this one's bad, and if they hear the siren, they'll come. You needn't worry about that. Now you came to look at the emergency shelter setup, didn't you?
MIKE Thought it might not be a bad idea.
URSULA
(gets up)
We can handle three hundred for three days, a hundred and fifty for a week. And if what I'm hearing on the radio's right, we may have to. Come on, let's look.
They start out of the room, URSULA leading.
52 INTERIOR: ROBBIE BEALS, CLOSE-UP.
His face is HORRIFIED, UNBELIEVING.
ROBBIE Oh, my God.
WEATHER LADY (voice-over) So enough doom and gloom, already! Let's talk SUNSHINE!
THE CAMERA PULLS BACK and we see he is kneeling beside MARTHA in her hall, performing the useless ritual of trying to take her pulse. We can see her wrist and the bloodstained cuff of her dress, but that's all. ROBBIE looks around, unbelieving.
In the background, the WEATHER LADY is spieling on. LINOGE broke the TV, but she's there, just the same.
WEATHER LADY (voice-over)
The finest weather in the U.S. today? Well, there's no question about that; the Big Island of Hawaii! Temperatures in the high seventies to low eighties, plus an onshore breeze to cool things off. And things ain't too shabby in Florida, either. Last week's chill there is a thing of the past. In Miami temperatures are in the mid-seventies, and how about San-ibel Island and beautiful Captiva?
If you're down that way, you'll be picking up shells with plenty of sunshine to show you the way and temps in the high eighties.
41
ROBBIE Is anybody here?
He gets to his feet. He looks first at the walls, where some of MARTHA'S nice old pictures are now dotted with a fine spray of blood. Then he looks at the floor and sees more blood: the thin line drawn by LINOGE'S cane and those big, dark smacks that were left by DAVEY'S bouncing ball.
ROBBIE
Is anybody here?
He pauses, undecided, then starts down the hall.
53 BLACK.
A BANK OF OVERHEAD FLUORESCENTS SNAPS ON, revealing the spacious basement room of the town hall. This room is ordinarily used for dances, Bingo, and various town functions. Signs on the pine-paneled walls remind visitors of the volunteer fire department blood drive, which will be held right here. Now the room is filled with cots, each with a small pillow at its head and a folded blanket at its foot. At the far end are stacks of coolers, cartons of bottled water, and a big radio with its digital readout flashing.
URSULA and MIKE stand looking at this.
URSULA Good?
MIKE
You know it is.
(she smiles) How's the supply closet?
URSULA
Full, just like you wanted. Concentrates, mostly pour the water over the powder and then gag it down but nobody'll starve.
MIKE You did all this yourself?
URSULA
Me and Pete's sister, Tavia. Be discreet, you said. Don't panic anyone.
MIKE
42
Ayuh, that's what I said. How many people know we're stocked for World War III?
URSULA
(perfectly serene) Everyone.
MIKE winces but doesn't look too surprised.
MIKE No secrets on the island.
URSULA (a bit defensive)
I didn't talk, Mike Anderson, and neither did Tavia. Mostly it was Robbie Beals who spread the tattle. Madder than a wet hen about all this, he is. Claims you're costing the town money for no reason.
MIKE
Well . . . we'll see. (pause) Tell you one thing, his kid makes a hell of a good monkey.
URSULA What?
MIKE
Never mind.
URSULA Want to look in the storage?
MIKE I think I'll trust you. Let's go back up.
She reaches for the switch, then pauses. Her face is troubled.
URSULA How serious is this, Mike?
MIKE
I don't know. I hope Robbie Deals can kick my ass for being an alarmist, come town meeting next month. Come on. Let's go-
43
URSULA flicks the switch and the room GOES BLACK.
54 INTERIOR: MARTHA CLARENDON'S LIVING ROOM.
We're looking toward the hall door. The TV is louder. It's an ad for a litigation law firm. Have you been injured in an accident? Can't work? Lost your mind?
TV ANNOUNCER (voice-over)
You feel hopeless. You may even feel that the whole world is against you. But the firm of Macintosh and Redding will stand with you and see that you get your day in court. Don't make a bad situation worse! When life hands you a bag of lemons, we can help you make lemonade! Stick it to them before they can stick it to you! If you have been injured in an accident, you may have thousands, even tens of thousands of dollars waiting for you. So don't wait. Call now. Pick up the phone and dial 1-800-1-STIK-EM. That's 1 ... 800 ...
ROBBIE comes into the doorway. His arrogance and authority have gone. He looks rumpled, nauseated, and scared to death.
55 INTERIOR: THE LIVING ROOM, FROM ROBBIE'S POINT OF VIEW.
The TV is smashed to hell, smoking . . . but still the TV AD blares on.
TV ANNOUNCER (voice-over)
(continues)
One-STIK-EM. Get what's coming to you. Haven't you been through enough?
We can see the top of LINOGE'S head over the back of the chair. There is a SLURP as he sips tea.
56 INTERIOR: THE LIVING ROOM, A WIDER ANGLE.
We're mostly over ROBBIE'S shoulder, here, looking at the smashed but still talking TV and the top of LINOGE'S head.
ROBBIE
Who are you?
The TV falls silent. Outside, we hear the WIND OF THE RISING STORM. Slowly, slowly, the SNARLING SILVER WOLF rises above the back of the chair, pointed at ROBBIE like a sinister puppet.
Its eyes and muzzle seem to DRIP BLOOD. It wags slowly back and forth like a pendulum.
LINOGE (voice) Born in sin, come on in.
44
ROBBIE flinches, opens his mouth, then closes it again. What do you say to a remark like that?
But LINOGE isn't finished.
LINOGE (voice)
You were with a whore in Boston when your mother died in Machias. Ma was in that crappy nursing home they closed down last fall, the one where they found the rats in the pantry, right? She choked to death calling your name. Isn't that sweet? Other than a good slice of processed yellow cheese, there's nothing on earth like a mother's love!
57 INTERIOR: ROBBIE.
Big reaction here. How would any of us react, if told one of our darkest secrets by a murderous stranger we could not properly see?
LINOGE (voice) But that's all right, Robbie.
Another big reaction from ROBBIE the stranger knows his name!
58 INTERIOR: MARTHA'S CHAIR.
LINOGE peeks around the chair's left-side wing, almost coyly. His eyes are more or less normal, but he is almost as blood-streaked as the head of his silver bludgeon.
LINOGE
She's waiting for you in hell. And she's turned cannibal. When you get there, she's going to eat you alive. Over and over and over again. Because that's what hell's about repetition. I think in our hearts, most of us know that. CATCH!
He heaves DAVEY'S basketball.
59 INTERIOR: THE LIVING ROOM DOORWAY, WITH ROBBIE.
The ball hits him in the chest, leaving a blood mark. ROBBIE'S had enough. He turns and FLEES, SCREAMING.
60 INTERIOR: MARTHA'S LIVING ROOM, ANGLE ON CHAIR AND TV.
Once again, we can just see the top of LINOGE'S head. Then his hand appears, rolled into a fist.
45
It hovers in the air for a moment, then one finger POPS OUT, pointed at the TV. The WEATHER LADY
resumes immediately.
WEATHER LADY (voice-over)
Let's check the area apt to be most severely affected by the oncoming storm.
LINOGE reaches for another cookie.
61 EXTERIOR: IN FRONT OF MARTHA'S.
ROBBIE bolts down the steps to his car, as fast as his chubby little legs will carry him. His face is a mask of horror and bewilderment.
62 INTERIOR: MARTHA'S LIVING ROOM, FEATURING THE TV.
THE CAMERA MOVES IN SLOWLY on the SHATTERED PICTURE TUBE and SMOKING INNARDS as the WEATHER LADY talks.
WEATHER LADY (voice-over) The forecast calls for destruction tonight, death tomorrow, and Armageddon by the weekend. In fact, this could be the end of life as we know it.
63 INTERIOR: LINOGE.
LINOGE
Seems unlikely . . . but we can always hope.
He takes another bite of cookie.
FADE OUT. THIS ENDS ACT 2.
Act 3
64 EXTERIOR: ROBBIE'S LINCOLN, WITH ROBBIE DAY.
He claws at the driver's side door. Down the street, a number of TOWNSFOLK are watching him curiously.
GEORGE KIRBY Everything all right up there, Beals?
46
ROBBIE doesn't answer the old guy. He gets his car door open and dives inside. He has a CB
radio under the dash, and now he yanks the mike off its prong. He punches the power button, punches in channel
19, and speaks. All during this, he keeps casting panicky glances at the open door of the CLARENDON house, in terror that MARTHA'S killer will show up.
ROBBIE
This is Robbie Beals for Constable Anderson! Come back, Anderson! This is an emergency!
65 INTERIOR. ANDERSON'S MARKET DAY.
The market is as crowded as ever. CAT and TESS MARCHANT, a motherly looking woman in her mid- to late-forties, have been checking folks out just as fast as they can, but now everyone freezes as the radio spews out its EXCITED BABBLE.
ROBBIE (voice)
Come back, dammit! Anderson! We've got a murder over here! Martha Clarendon's been beaten to death!
A DISMAYED, DISBELIEVING MURMUR goes through the shoppers at that. Their eyes get big.
ROBBIE (voice) The guy who did it is still in the house! Anderson! Anderson!
You come back, do you hear me? You're always around when it comes to unwanted advice, where are you when
TESS MARCHANT takes the microphone from the radio like a woman in a dream.
TESS Robbie? This is Tess Marchant. Mike's not
ROBBIE (voice)
I don't want you! I want Anderson! I can't do his job and mine, too!
CAT
(takes the mike)
47
He had an emergency at home. Alton went with him. It was his little g Just then, MIKE and HATCH come in through the door. CAT and TESS look incredibly relieved. A LOW MURMUR runs through the crowd. MIKE makes about three steps into the room, then stops, realizing something very much out of the ordinary is going on here.
MIKE What? What is it?
Nobody in the market will answer him. Meantime, the RADIO continues to SQUAWK.
ROBBIE (voice)
What do you mean, an emergency at home? There's an emergency right here! An old woman murdered! A lunatic in Martha Clarendon's living room! I want the town constable!
MIKE walks quickly to the counter. CAT gives him the mike as if glad to be rid of it.
MIKE What's he talking about? Who's murdered?
TESS Martha. He says.
ANOTHER, LOUDER MURMUR this time.
MIKE
(pushes TRANSMIT button) I'm here, Robbie. Just a minute ROBBIE (voice)
Never mind just a minute, dammit! I could be in a life-threatening situation here!
MIKE ignores the man for the moment, holding the mike against his chest and talking to the two dozen or so islanders who have clumped together at the heads of the aisles, staring at him, stunned.
There hasn't been a murder on this island for almost seventy years . . . unless you count Dolores Claiborne's husband, Joe, and that was never proved.
MIKE
You folks back off, now, and give me a little privacy. I get six thousand a year to be constable; let me do the job you pay me for.
48
They back off, but are still listening; how can they help it? MIKE, meanwhile, turns so his back is to them and he's facing the radio and the lottery ticket dispensers.
MIKE Where are you, Robbie? Come back.
66 INTERIOR: ROBBIE, IN HIS CAR.
Behind him, we can see TOWNSPEOPLE probably a dozen of them standing in the street and watching. They have worked themselves quite a bit closer, but don't dare come all the way. The door to MARTHA'S house still stands ominously open.
ROBBIE
Martha Clarendon's house on Atlantic Street! Where did you think I was, Bar Harbor? I'm (a great idea occurs to him)
I'm keeping the man inside at bay! Now get your ass down here!
He racks the mike, then fumbles in the glove compartment. Under the jumble of maps, town documents, and Whopper wrappers, he finds a little pistol. He gets out of his car.
67 EXTERIOR: ROBBIE.
ROBBIE
(calls down to the cluster of folks) You stay where you are!
With his authority thus exerted, ROBBIE turns toward the house and points his gun at the open door. He's recovered a certain amount of his toadlike savoir faire, but he's not about to go back in there. The man in there didn't just kill MARTHA CLARENDON; he knew where ROBBIE was when ROBBIE'S mother died. He knew ROBBIE'S name.
The WIND GUSTS, blowing ROBBIE'S gray-streaked hair back from his brow . . . and the first few snowflakes of the Storm of the Century go dancing past his face.
68 INTERIOR: ANDERSON'S MARKET, WITH MIKE, HATCH, ONLOOKERS.
MIKE stands with the microphone in his hand, trying to think what to do next. As CAT WITHERS
takes the mike and racks it, he makes up his mind.
49
MIKE (to HATCH) Let's take another ride, all right?
HATCH
Sure. . .
MIKE
Cat, you and Tess're minding the store. (raising his voice) All you folks just stay and finish your shopping, all right? There's nothing you can do on Atlantic Street, and whatever's happened over there, you'll know it soon enough.
As he speaks, he moves behind the cash register. He reaches beneath it.
69 INTERIOR: THE SHELF, CLOSE-UP.
On it are a .38 and a pair of handcuffs. MIKE takes both.
70 INTERIOR: ANGLE ON MIKE.
He puts the handcuffs in one coat pocket and the .38 in the other. This is done quickly and deftly none of the goggle-eyed customers see. CAT and TESS do, though, and it brings the reality of the situation home to them: crazy as it may be, there could be a dangerous criminal on Little Tall.
CAT Do you want me to call your wives?
MIKE Absolutely not.
Then he looks at the avidly watching islanders. If CAT doesn't, one of them will, as soon as he or she can reach the nearest phone.
MIKE
Yeah, I guess you better. But make sure they know the situation is under control.
71 EXTERIOR: ANDERSON'S MARKET.
MIKE and HATCH hurry down the steps, and THE CAMERA TRACKS THEM to the Island Services utility vehicle. The snow is still just flurrying, but we can see that it's thicker now.
50
HATCH Snow's early.
MIKE stops with one hand on the driver's side doorhandle. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself, then lets it out.
MIKE Yeah, it is. Let's go.
They get in and drive away. Meantime, people have been drifting out onto the porch, watching them.
72 EXTERIOR: THE ROBBIE BEALS MANNEQUIN.
The propeller on the beanie is now turning briskly.
73 EXTERIOR: THE TOWN DOCK.
The waves CRASH HIGH against the pilings, throwing spray. The work of securing the boats and getting loose gear undercover has progressed quite a bit. We FOCUS IN on GEORGE KIRB
Y (an older guy sixtyish), ALEX HABER (thirty-five), and CAL FREESE (a twenty-something). ALEX points west, toward the end of the docks and the reach beyond.
ALEX HABER
Looka there, at the mainland.
74 EXTERIOR: MAINLAND, FROM THE DOCK'S POINT OF VIEW.
The mainland is about two miles away, and quite clear gray-green woods, mostly.
