down over her fingers. Her eyes are wide open. She can't move, but she's aware . . . and she's terrified.
I ' Across the room, MIKE and HATCH stand right where they are.
LINOGE
Come in, boys. Do it now and do it quietly . . . unless you want me to make this bitch burn her face off.
He raises the cane slightly. When he does, JOANNA raises one of the candles in corresponding fashion toward her head.
LINOGE All that hair! Shall we watch it burn?
MIKE
No.
He comes into the room. HATCH follows, with a glance back down the hall. There, BOB RIGGINS
is talking to the ISLANDERS. Impossible to tell what he's saying, but he's got quite a few of them agreeing with him, from the look.
LINOGE
Having a little trouble with the local witch doctor, are you? Well, here's something you might want to file away for later, Constable . . . always assuming there is a later, of course. The Reverend Bobby Riggins has got a couple of nieces over in Castine. Eleven and nine they are, cute little blondies. He likes them a lot. Too much, probably. They run and hide when they see his car turn into the driveway. In fact
MIKE Let her down. Joanna, are you all right?
She doesn't answer, but her eyes ROLL IN TERROR. LINOGE frowns.
LINOGE
If you don't want to see Mrs. Stanhope's impression of the world's biggest birthday candle, I advise you not to speak again until you're invited to. Hatch, close the door.
308 STEPHEN KING
HATCH closes it. LINOGE watches, then turns his attention back to MIKE.
LINOGE
You don't like knowing, do you?
MIKE
Not your brand of it, no.
LINOGE
Well, that's too bad. A real shame. Perhaps you don't believe me?
MIKE
I believe you. The thing is, though, you know all the bad and none of the good.
LINOGE
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That's so inspirational it brings tears to my eyes. But by and large, Constable Anderson, the good's an illusion. Little fables folks tell themselves so they can get through their days without screaming too much.
MIKE
I don't believe that.
LINOGE
I know. A good boy to the end, that's you . . . but I think you're going to find yourself on the short end this time.
He looks at JOANNA. He raises his cane . . . then SLOWLY LOWERS IT. As he does, she SLIDES
down the wall. When her feet touch the floor, LINOGE purses his lips and makes a little PUFF. A wind STIRS THROUGH THE ROOM. The flames of the candles on the table and counter flicker; those in JOANNA'S hands WHIFF OUT. When they do, the spell holding her breaks. She drops the candles and runs to MIKE, SOBBING. She CRINGES AWAY from LINOGE when her cross takes her nearest to him. He smiles at her in fatherly fashion as MIKE puts an arm around her.
STORM OF THE CENTURY 309
LINOGE
Your town is full of adulterers, pedophiles, thieves, gluttons, murderers, bullies, scoundrels, and covetous morons. I know every one of them, too born in lust, turn to dust. Born in sin, come on in.
JOANNA
(sobbing)
He's the devil! He's the devil! Don't let him near me again, I'll do anything, just don't let him near me again!
MIKE What do you want, Mr. Linoge?
LINOGE
Everybody on those benches an hour from now that'll do to start with. We're going to have a little unscheduled town meeting, at nine o'clock PM, prompt. After that . . . well . . . we'll see.
MIKE
See what?
LINOGE crosses the room to the back door. He holds up his cane, and the door SWINGS OPEN.
The storm's wind BLOWS IN, dousing all of the candles. The SHAPE that is LINOGE turns in the doorway. In the silhouette of his head, we can see the TWISTING RED LINES that light his eyes.
310 STEPHEN KING
LINOGE
If I'm through with this town ... or only just beginning. Nine o'clock, Constable. You . . . him . . .
her . . . Reverend Bobbie . . . Town Manager Robbie . . . everyone.
He goes out. The door SLAMS SHUT behind him.
71 INTERIOR: THE KITCHEN, WITH MIKE, HATCH, AND JOANNA NIGHT.
HATCH
What do we do?
231
MIKE
What can we do? Listen to whatever else he wants. If there's another choice, I don't see it. Tell Robbie.
HATCH What about the kids?
JOANNA
111 watch them ... I don't want to be where he is, anyway. Not ever again.
MIKE ' No, that won't do. He wants everyone, and that includes you, Jo.
(thinks)
We'll bring them upstairs. Cots and all. Put them in the back of the meeting hall.
HATCH Yeah. That'll work.
(as MIKE opens the door again) I've never been so scared in my life.
MIKE Me, either.
They go out to tell the storm survivors about the meeting.
72 EXTERIOR: THE FRONT OF THE TOWN HALL NIGHT.
The little cupola with the memorial bell inside it is almost swallowed in STORM OF THE CENTURY 311
snowdrifts. Standing on one of those drifts a trick almost as miraculous as walking on water is ANDRE LINOGE. His cane is planted neatly between his feet. He is watching the town hall . . .
guarding it... biding his time.
FADE TO BLACK. THIS ENDS ACT 3.
Act 4
73 EXTERIOR: THE INTERSECTION OF MAIN AND ATLANTIC NIGHT.
The WIND is still blowing, sending sheets of snow down Main and continuing to build up the drifts, but the SNOW itself has almost stopped.
74 EXTERIOR: THE REMAINS OF THE TOWN DOCK NIGHT.
The waves continue CRASHING IN against the seawall, but not as hard as before. There's an overturned fishing boat lying at the foot of Atlantic Street, with its prow smashed through the display window of Little Tall Gifts and Antiques.
75 EXTERIOR: THE SKY NIGHT.
At first we see only BLACKNESS AND CLOUDS, but then there is a lightening, a silvering. We see the troubled, smoky shapes of the clouds more clearly in this light, and then, for just a moment or two, the FULL MOON shines through before disappearing again.
76 EXTERIOR: THE TOWN HALL NIGHT.
The building, visible through WHIRLING MEMBRANES OF SNOW, still looks a bit like a mirage. In the shelter of its cupola, the memorial bell swings back and forth, being GENTLY RUNG by the wind.
77 INTERIOR: OLD-FASHIONED REGULATOR CLOCK, CLOSE-UP.
232
It's TICKING LOUDLY. WHEN the minute hand reaches straight-up nine, the regulator begins to CHIME THE HOUR. As it does, THE CAMERA PULLS BACK AND TURNS, giving us the town meeting hall of Little Tall Island.
It is a spectral and beautiful sight. Every member of the community that we have met is sitting there, plus all the other ISLANDERS two hundred, in all. They look eerie by candlelight, like villagers from an earlier time . . . the time of Salem and Roanoke, let us say.
312
STORM OF THE CENTURY 313
Sitting in the front row are MIKE and MOLLY; HATCH and ME-LINDA; REV. BOB RIGGINS and his wife, CATHY; URSULA GODSOE and SANDRA BEALS. ROBBIE BEALS is up on the stage, at a small wooden table to the left of the podium. Before him on the table is a little plaque that reads TOWN
MANAGER.
At the rear of the room, eight cots have been set up in one corner. On these, the children are sleeping. Sitting on folding chairs to either side of this little enclave are ANGIE CARVER, TAVIA GODSOE, JOANNA STANHOPE, ANDY ROBICHAUX, CAT WITHERS, and LUCIEN FOURNIER. They are trying as best they can to guard the children.