by Stephen King
Ayuh. Fact is, the earlier you go, the better bed you and Buster are apt to have. People headed that way already. I seen the lights.
(lifts his chin toward the window)
You be here or there when my watch is over don't matter. I'll find you.
He smiles at her. She smiles back, reassured. The WIND SCREAMS. They listen, smiles fading.
FAINT, we hear the SOUND OF POUNDING WAVES.
JACK
Town hall basement's probably gonna be the safest place on the island for the next forty-eight hours. There's going to be one helluva storm surge tonight, tell you that.
ANGELA
Why did that man have to come today, of all days?
BUSTER What did the bad man do, Mommy?
Here we are again little pitchers and their big ears. ANGELA leans over and kisses him.
ANGELA
Stole the moon and brought the wind. How about another sandwich, big boy?
BUSTER Yeah! And Daddy can fly it!
186 EXTERIOR: GODSOE FISH & LOBSTER DARK.
The waves are crashing higher than ever.
187 EXTERIOR: THE LIGHTHOUSE DARK.
Now just a vague shape in the storm, illuminating a WILDERNESS OF SNOW each time the light comes around.
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188 EXTERIOR: MAIN AND ATLANTIC INTERSECTION DARK.
The WIND tears the darkened blinker loose, and it goes flying to the end of its cord, like a yo-yo to the end of its string, before finally thumping down into the snowy street.
189 INTERIOR: THE CONSTABLE'S OFFICE JAIL CELL, WITH LINOGE DARK.
LINOGE is sitting as before, with his feet up and his hungry face framed by his slightly spread knees. He's intent, focused, still wearing the shadow of a smile.
190 INTERIOR: ANGLE ON THE CONSTABLE'S OFFICE, WITH HATCH AND PETER.
HATCH has got a PowerBook open; its glow shines on his rapt face. He's running a crossword puzzle program and is deep into it. He doesn't notice PETER, who is sitting below the bulletin board and staring back at LINOGE, slack-faced and wide-eyed. PETER is hypnotized.
191 INTERIOR: LINOGE, CLOSE-UP.
His smile widens. His EYES DARKEN TO BLACK, and that red starts to roll into them again.
192 INTERIOR: RESUME HATCH AND PETER.
Without removing his gaze from LINOGE'S, PETER reaches behind him and pulls an old Department of Fisheries red-tide notice from the board. He turns it over. He has a ballpoint in his flap pocket. He now clicks the tip and puts pen to paper. He never looks down at what he's doing, though; his gaze never leaves LINOGE.
HATCH
(not looking up)
Say, Pete what do you s'pose this one is? "Yodeler's perch." Three letters.
193 INTERIOR: LINOGE, CLOSE-UP.
Smiling, he mouths a word that looks like a gulp.
194 INTERIOR: RESUME HATCH AND PETER.
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PETER
Alp.
HATCH Coss it is.
(types it into the grid) This is a great program. I'll let you try later, if you want.
PETER Sure.
He sounds okay, but never takes his eyes from LINOGE. His pen never stops moving, either.
Never even slows.
195 INTERIOR: THE BACK OF THE FISHERIES FLYER.
Written there over and over again in jagged capital letters is this: "GIVE ME GIVE ME GIVE ME
GIVE ME WHAT I WANT GIVE ME WHAT I WANT GIVE ME WHAT I WANT." Drawn around the words, like bizarre illuminations on a monk's manuscript, is the same shape we saw over MARTHA'S living room door. Canes.
196 INTERIOR: LINOGE, CLOSE-UP.
Grinning. Black, beastlike eyes full of ROILING RED. We can just see the tips of his fanglike teeth.
197 EXTERIOR: THE WOODS ON THE LITTLE TALL HEADLAND NIGHT.
The WIND SHRIEKS. The trees bend in the BLIZZARD, their branches CLATTERING.
198 EXTERIOR: LITTLE TALL, A HIGH SHOT NIGHT.
The buildings are already snow-covered; the two streets are snow-choked. There are only a few lights. This is a town cut off from the entire outside world. We HOLD ON THIS, then: FADE TO BLACK. THIS ENDS ACT 6.
Act 7
199 EXTERIOR: THE TOWN HALL NIGHT.
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JACK CARVER was right the islanders without woodstoves for heat, or those who live in the path of a possible storm surge at high tide, are already coming in for shelter. Some arrive in four-wheel drives, some come on snowmobiles or in Sno-Cats. Some are on snowshoes and skis. Even with the HOWL OF THE WIND, we can hear the BULL-THROATED ROAR OF THE TOWN HALL GENNIE.
Approaching along the sidewalk are JONAS STANHOPE and his wife, JOANNA. They aren't kids, but they're healthy, even athletic-looking like the actors in the Ensure commercials. They are on snowshoes, and each has a pull line. Behind them is a chair secured to a child's sled, making it into a kind of one-person sleigh. Sitting in the chair, bundled up in robes and an ENORMOUS FUR HAT, is CORA STANHOPE, JONAS'S mother. She's about eighty and looks as regal as Queen Victoria on her throne.
JONAS
You okay, Mom?
CORA Fine as the flowers in May.
JONAS
What about you, Jo?
JOANNA
(rather grim) I'll make it.
They turn into the parking lot beside the town hall. This lot is rapidly filling up with a variety of snow-friendly vehicles. Pairs of skis and snowshoes have been left upright in the snowbank in front of the building. The building itself is courtesy of its big generator lit up like an ocean liner on a stormy sea, an island of safety and relative
comfort on a wild night. Of course, the Titanic probably looked the same way before it hit the iceberg.
Folks walk toward the steps, talking and chatting with nervous excitement. We've built up a relatively large cast of characters, and here we get some payoff, recognizing old friends from the cluster at MARTHA'S house and the shoppers at the market.
We spy JILL and ANDY ROBICHAUX getting out of a four-wheel drive. As JILL undoes the straps holding five-year-old HARRY in his car seat (HARRY'S one of MOLLY'S day-care kids), ANDY slogs gamely over to the STANHOPE family.
ANDY How you doing, Stanhopes? Some wild night, huh?
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JONAS
It sure is. We're fine, Andy.
But JOANNA, while far from death's door, is also a long way from fine. She's PANTING HARD and uses the break to bend over and clutch the legs of her snowpants.
ANDY
Let me spell you there, Joanna
CORA
(Her Imperial Majesty)
Joanna is fine, Mr. Robichaux. Just needs to get her breath. Don't you, Joanna?
JOANNA gives her elderly mother-in-law a smile that says, "Thanks, right, and, oh, how I'd like to stuff a parking meter up your scrawny old butt." ANDY sees it.
ANDY
Jilly could use some help with the baby, Jo. Would you? I got this. Really.
JOANNA
(very grateful) You bet.
ANDY grabs JOANNA'S half of the harness. As JOANNA goes to JILL (CORA gives her daughter-in-law a look as icy as the storm, one that says "Quitter" loud and clear), DAVEY HOPEWELL, his PARENTS, and MRS. KINGSBURY pile out of a big old Suburban.
JONAS Well, Andy, what do you say? Ready?
ANDY
(cheerily, God love him)
Mush!
They resume pulling the old lady toward the town hall. CORA rides with her blade-thin New England nose regally lifted. JILL and JOANNA walk along behind, CHATTING; HARRY, so bundled up he looks like the Sta-Puft Marshmallow Man, trudges next to his mom, holding her hand.
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200 INTERIOR: THE TOWN OFFICE NIGHT.
URSULA, TESS MARCHANT, and TAVIA GODSOE are checking people in by handing them clipboards and getting them to sign the names of family members who plan to spend the night in the lower level of the town hall. Behind the WOMEN are FOUR MEN, looking important but not doing much. There's ROBBIE BEALS, the town manager, plus the three town selec
tmen: GEORGE KIRBY, BURT SOAMES, and HENRY BRIGHT. HENRY is the husband of CARLA BRIGHT, and is currently holding his son, another day-care pupil, in his arms. FRANK is fast asleep.
Again, we see faces that we know coming in; an island is a small community. There are no kids older than day-care age; the big kids all got stranded on the mainland side of the reach.
URSULA (plenty harried)
Sign in, everybody! We have to know who's here, so please sign in before you go downstairs!
She casts an impatient look at the men, who are basically standing around and gossiping.
201 INTERIOR: ANGLE ON ROBBIE AND THE SELECTMEN.
BURT SOAMES So what'd he say?
ROBBIE
What could he say? Hell, everybody north of Casco Bay knows Peter Godsoe wholesales nine pounds of pot for every pound of lobster.
He casts an eye on URSULA and TAVIA the latter is rummaging in a supply cupboard for pillows, work ROBBIE wouldn't do unless you stuck a gun in his ear.
ROBBIE
I don't blame him hell, ain't he got a houseful of women to support?
BURT SOAMES CHORTLES. GEORGE KIRBY and HENRY BRIGHT exchange a more doubtful look.
They're not completely comfortable with the meanness of the gossip.
GEORGE KIRBY
Question is, Robbie, how'd that fella know?
ROBBIE rolls his eyes, as if to say, "What a dope."
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ROBBIE
They're likely in business together. Why would a fella kill a harmless old lady like Martha Clarendon in the first place, 'less he was stoned? Tell me that, George Kirby!
HENRY BRIGHT
That doesn't explain how he could know Cat Withers 'us up in Deny for n'abortion.
WOMAN'S VOICE
Ursula! Are there more blankets?
URSULA
Robbie Beals! Henry Bright! You boys think you could go downstairs and bring some more blankets out of that back
storeroom? Or aren't you far enough along with your politician' yet?
ROBBIE and HENRY walk over, ROBBIE with a contemptuous grin, HENRY looking ashamed that he hasn't been more help already.
ROBBIE
What's the matter, Ursula that time of the month, dear?
She gives him a look of utter contempt and brushes hair back from her face.
TESS
Don't you think it's about time to blow the whistle and bring 'em in, Robbie?
ROBBIE
Looks like enough of 'em are coming in on their own. As for the rest, they'll ride it out just fine.
All this is a bunch of foolishness, far's I'm concerned. Do you think our grandmothers and grandfathers all got together in the town hall when it stormed, like a bunch of cave people scared of lightning?
URSULA
No they used the Methodist church. I've got a picture I could show you. Storm of '27. I can point 112
out your granddad in it, if you want. He looks like he's stirring a pot of soup. Nice to know there was at least one fellow in your family knew how to pitch in.
ROBBIE looks ready to come back on her, but before he can: HENRY BRIGHT Come on, Robbie.
HENRY, still holding his sleeping child, heads downstairs. GEORGE KIRBY follows. ROBBIE'S
effectively shut up. GEORGE is easily twenty years older than he is, and if he's not above getting blankets, ROBBIE will at least have to go along and look busy.
URSULA, TAVIA, and TESS look at each other and kind of roll their eyes as the men leave.
Meanwhile, people continue to come in by twos and threes, and the storm continues to ROAR
outside.
URSULA
Sign in before you go downstairs, folks! Please! There's room for everybody, but we have to know who we have!
MOLLY ANDERSON comes in, brushing snow from her hair and holding RALPHIE by the hand.
MOLLY
Ursula, have you seen Mike?
URSULA No, but I'll be able to catch his car radio if he calls in, I think.
(points at the CB)
It's not good for much else tonight. Take off your coat, pitch in.
MOLLY How's it going?
URSULA Oh, we're having a ball. Hi, Ralphie.
RALPHIE Hi.
MOLLY kneels on the wet floor and begins the job of peeling RALPHIE out of his snowsuit. People continue to come in as she does so. Outside, the SNOW SWIRLS and the WIND HOWLS.
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202 EXTERIOR: THE VOLUNTEER FIRE DEPARTMENT NIGHT.
The pumper we saw being washed at the top of the show has long since been put away, but now the fire station's side door opens and FERD ANDREWS struggles out, pulling up the hood of his coat.
He looks downhill at:
203 EXTERIOR: GODSOE FISH & LOBSTER NIGHT.
The tide is almost high. The mainland has disappeared in a curtain of gray and black. The reach is running with waves so big they're nightmarish. These slosh rhythmically over the end of the dock, pelting the long shed with spray.
204 INTERIOR: GODSOE FISH & LOBSTER NIGHT.
We're in a long, high storage area stacked with lobster traps, crates, and fishing gear. One entire wall is hung with slickers, waterproofs, high boots. The SOUND OF THE STORM is MUTED, but only a little. SPRAY PELTS THE WINDOWS.
THE CAMERA MOVES down an aisle of traps, then past a LONG TANK full of lobsters. THE CAMERA SWINGS around the end of the tank, and a few RATS scutter out of sight. Here, in a dusty little passage between the tank and the wall, is stored a LONG OBJECT covered with blankets.
THE WIND SHRIEKS. THE BUILDING CREAKS. A huge SPLASH OF SPRAY hits one of the windows and SHATTERS IT. Wind, water, and snow SWIRL IN. The wind strips the blanket back from the end of the long object, and we see STACKED BALES OF POT, all neatly wrapped in sheets of plastic.
The traps hung overhead CLACK BACK AND FORTH. SOUND of another window BREAKING.
205 EXTERIOR: THE LITTLE TALL MARKET.
We can hear the FAINT CHUG OF THE GENERATOR, and a few lights shine bravely. The only vehicles still parked in front are MOLLY'S little car and a snow-caked pickup with GODSOE FISH & LOBSTER on the side.
206 INTERIOR: CROSSWORD PUZZLE ON POWERBOOK SCREEN, CLOSE-UP.
It's mostly filled in. HATCH adds a word.
207 INTERIOR: THE CONSTABLE'S OFFICE NIGHT.
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HATCH stretches, then stands. In the cell, LINOGE sits as before, back to the wall and looking out from between his knees.
HATCH Got to use the can. You want a coffee or a cold drink, Pete?
PETE doesn't respond at first. The sheet of paper he pulled from the bulletin board is in his lap, but turned over so the print side, with its red-tide warning, is faceup. PETER'S eyes are wide and blank.
HATCH Peter Earth to Peter.
HATCH waves a hand in front of PETER'S face. PETER blinks, and awareness or a semblance of it seeps back into his eyes. He looks up at HATCH.
PETER What?
HATCH
Just asked if you wanted a soda or a coffee.
PETER
No. Thanks, though.
HATCH
(starts toward the door, then turns) You all right?
PETER
(after a beat)
Yeah. Spent all day battening down for the storm, and now I guess I'm almost asleep with my eyes open. Sorry.
HATCH
Well, hang in there. Jack Carver and Kirk Freeman should be along in twenty minutes or so.
HATCH grabs a magazine to read in the can and leaves.
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208 INTERIOR: LINOGE, CLOSE-UP.
His eyes DARKEN. He looks at PETER. His lips move soundlessly.
209 INTERIOR: PETER, CLOSE-UP.
He's totally blank again. Hypnotized. Suddenly THE SHADOW OF LINOGE'S CANE appears on his face. PETER looks up at:
210 INTERIOR: AN OVERHEAD BEAM, FROM PETER'S POINT OF VIEW.
The cane is hooked over it. The bloody WOLF'S HEAD SNARLS.
211 INTERIOR: THE CONS
TABLE'S OFFICE NIGHT.
PETER gets up and slowly crosses the room, the notice he was writing on trailing from one hand.
He walks directly beneath the cane. LINOGE sits on the cell's cot, watching him, only his weird eyes moving. PETER stops at a wall-mounted cabinet and opens it. There are all sorts of tools inside.
There's also a COIL OF ROPE. He takes it.
