him is wearing an Oakland As jacket and jeans. MIKE will pass them on the way to his car, but he takes no particular notice of them at first. He's gotten his keys out; now he's trying to peer at them over one of his bags just enough so he can see which one will unlock the door. Then, just as the MAN and TEENAGE BOY reach MIKE:
LINOGE
(sings) "I'm a little teapot, short and stout. . . ."
BOY
(joining in) "Here is my handle, here is my spout. . . ."
MIKE'S face fills with terrible recognition. The keys fall from his fingers and the shopping bags SAG in his arms as he turns and sees:
172 EXTERIOR: LINOGE AND THE BOY, FROM MIKE'S POINT OF VIEW (SLOW MOTION) DAY.
They are already passing MIKE, and there's only time for a glimpse, even in SLOW MOTION. Yes, it's LINOGE beneath the homburg, now looking not like a psychotic fisherman but like a ruthless businessman, and not thirty-five but sixty-five.
STORM OF THE CENTURY 373
The BOY with him smiling up at him and HARMONIZING PRETTILY on the well-loved old nonsense-jingle is a handsome child of fourteen. His hair is MOLLY'S shade. His eyes are MIKE'S shade. And lying across his nose, faint but still visible, is the fairy-saddle birthmark.
LINOGE AND RALPHIE
(echoing dreamlike voices)
"You can pick me up and pour me out. . . . I'm a little teapot, short and stout!"
During this, we lose our angle on their faces which we have seen for only that heartbreakingly brief moment, anyway. Now they are only a pair of backs: a well-dressed man and the child of his late middle age, heading for the corner. And beyond the corner, for anywhere.
EXTERIOR: RESUME MIKE DAY.
He stands where he is, BAGS SAGGING IN HIS ARMS, thunderstruck. His mouth opens and closes soundlessly . . . and then, at last, a whisper comes out. . .
MIKE Rah . . . Rah . . . Ralphie . . . Ralphie? RALPHIE!
EXTERIOR: LINOGE AND RALPHIE DAY.
They are beyond the deli. Almost to the corner. They stop. And look back.
EXTERIOR: RESUME MIKE DAY.
He drops the bags from his arms stuff inside smashes and RUNS.
MIKE RALPHIE!
EXTERIOR: LINOGE AND RALPHIE DAY.
RALPHIE'S mouth opens; he HISSES LIKE A SNAKE. His good looks are gone in an instant, as the FANGS beneath his lips are revealed. His eyes DARKEN and become BLACK, shot through with WRITHING RED LINES. He raises hands that are hooked into talons, as if to claw MIKE'S face open.
STEPHEN KING
LINOGE puts an arm around his shoulders and (without taking his eyes away from MIKE) urges RALPHIE to turn. Then they sweep around the corner together.
EXTERIOR: RESUME MIKE DAY.
He stops outside the deli, his face filled with DISMAY and SICKENED HORROR. Pedestrians stream around him, some looking at him curiously, but MIKE takes no notice.
MIKE Ralphie!
He dashes for the corner and goes around.
EXTERIOR: MIKE DAY.
He comes to a stop, eyes searching.
EXTERIOR: THE STREET, FROM MIKE'S POINT OF VIEW DAY.
People come and go on the sidewalks, or dart across the street, or hail taxis, or get newspapers from curbside vending machines. There is no man in a gray topcoat. There is no boy in an Oakland As jacket.
EXTERIOR: RESUME MIKE.
LINOGE (voice-over) He'll come to love me. (pause) He'll come to call me Father.
MIKE slumps against the wall and closes his eyes. From beneath one of those closed lids, a single tear slips. A YOUNG WOMAN comes around the corner and looks at him with cautious sympathy.
YOUNG WOMAN
Mister, are you all right?
MIKE
(doesn't open his eyes) Yes. I just need a minute.
YOUNG WOMAN
You dropped your groceries. Some of it's probably okay, but some of the stuff broke.
f
啸'
STORM OF THE CENTURY 375 MIKE now opens his eyes and does his best to smile at her.
MIKE Ayuh, some of the stuff broke. I heard it.
YOUNG WOMAN
(smiling) What kind of accent is that?
MIKE The kind you learn on the other side of the world.
YOUNG WOMAN
What happened? Did you trip?
MIKE
I thought I saw someone I knew, and I just kind of ... lost my grip for a second there.
He looks down the street one more time. He reached the corner seconds after LINOGE and RALPHIE turned it, they should be right there, but they're not . . . and MIKE isn't really surprised.
YOUNG WOMAN
I could help you pick up the stuff that's still okay, if you wanted. Look, I got this.
She reaches into her coat pocket and brings out a crumpled-up net shopping bag. She holds it out to him, smiling tentatively.
*
MIKE That would be very kind.
They go around the corner together.
181 EXTERIOR: MIKE AND THE YOUNG WOMAN, A HIGH ANGLE DAY.
As they approach his car and the spilled groceries, we see them from above . . . then BOOM HIGHER YET, TURNING AND LOSING THEM. Now we see the bright blue sky and water of San Francisco Bay, with the bridge spanning it like a dream that has begun to rust a little around the edges.
STEPHEN KING
There are swooping gulls . . . we track one of them . . . we:
DISSOLVE TO:
EXTERIOR: SWOOPING GULL DAY.
We follow it, then BOOM DOWN to discover Little Tall Island, and the town hall. There's a car parked at the curb. Three people walk toward the cupola that holds the plaques and the memorial bell. One a WOMAN walks ahead of the other two.
MIKE (voice-over)
I could have written Molly and told her. I thought about it ... I even prayed about it. When every choice hurts, how do you tell which one's the right one? In the end, I kept silent. Sometimes, mostly late at night when I can't sleep, I think that was wrong. But in daylight, I know better.
EXTERIOR: THE CUPOLA ON THE TOWN HALL LAWN DAY.
MOLLY approaches it slowly. In her hands she has a bouquet of flowers. Her face is serene and sad and quite beautiful. Behind her, HATCH and PIPPA stand at the edge of the grass, HATCH with his arm around his daughter's shoulders.
MOLLY kneels at the base of the plaque commemorating those lost in the Storm of the Century. She puts her flowers at the base of this plaque. She is crying a little now. She kisses her fingers, then presses them to her son's name.
She gets up and walks back to where HATCH and PIPPA wait. HATCH puts his arms around her and hugs her.
EXTERIOR: LITTLE TALL ISLAND, LONG DAY.
MIKE (voice-over) In daylight I know better.
FADE TO BLACK.