bell inside a bell the size of an apple basket, say. The Island Services four-wheel drive pulls up in front, using a slot marked RESERVED FOR TOWN BUSINESS.
48 INTERIOR: THE ISLAND SERVICES VEHICLE, WITH MIKE AND HATCH.
HATCH has got a pamphlet called Storm Preparedness: State of Maine Guidelines. He's deep in it.
MIKE You want to come in?
HATCH
(doesn't look up) Nope. I'm fine.
As MIKE opens the door, HATCH does look up ... and gives MIKE a sweet, open smile.
HATCH
Thanks for seeing after my little girl, boss.
MIKE
(smiles back) My pleasure.
49 EXTERIOR: ANGLE ON THE ISLAND SERVICES FOUR-WHEEL DRIVE.
MIKE gets out, once more settling his hat so it won't blow off. As he does this, he takes another small measuring glance at the sky.
50 EXTERIOR: MIKE, ON THE WALK.
He stops at the cupola. Now that we're closer, we can read the plaque in front. There is a list of war dead on it: ten from the Civil War, one from
the Spanish-American, a couple each from I, II, and Korea, and six from Vietnam, the po' folks' war. Among the names we see lots of BEALSES, GODSOES, HATCHERS, AND ROBICHAUXES. Above the list, in big letters, is this: WHEN WE RING FOR THE LIVING, WE HONOR OUR DEAD.
MIKE brushes the bell's clapper with a gloved forefinger. It rings faintly. Then he goes on inside.
51 INTERIOR: THE LITTLE TALL ISLAND TOWN OFFICE.
It's your usual cluttered secretarial bullpen, dominated by an aerial photo of the island on one wall. A single woman is running the whole show plump and pretty URSULA GODSOE (she has a plaque with her name on it beside the in/out basket on her desk). Behind her, through a number of glass windows along the main corridor, we see the actual town meeting hall. This consists of many straight-backed benches, like Puritan pews, and a bare wood lectern with a microphone. Looks more like church than government. Nobody's out there right now.
Prominent on the wall of URSULA'S office is the same sign we saw on the door of the market: STORM EMERGENCY POSSIBLE NEXT 3 DAYS! "TAKE SHELTER" SIGNAL is 2 SHORTS, 1 LONG. MIKE strolls over and looks at this, waiting for URSULA. She is on the phone, speaking to someone in tones of forced patience.
URSULA
No, Betty, I haven't heard any more than you have . . . we're all dealing with the same forecast . . . No, not the memorial bell, not with the winds we're expecting . . . It'll be the siren, comes to that. Two shorts and one long, that's right . . . Mike Anderson, of course . . . those are decisions we pay him to make, aren't they, dear?
URSULA winks broadly at MIKE and gives him a one-moment gesture. MIKE raises his own hand and claps his fingers against his thumb several times, miming a talking mouth. URSULA grins and nods.
URSULA
Yes . . . I'll be praying, too ... of course we all will. Thanks for calling, Betty.
She hangs up and closes her eyes for a moment.
MIKE
Tough day?
URSULA
Betty Soames seems to think we have access to some secret forecast.
MIKE Kind of a Jeane Dixon forecast? Psychic weather?
URSULA
I guess.
MIKE taps the STORM EMERGENCY placard.
MIKE
Most people in town have seen this?
URSULA
If they're not blind, they've seen it. You need to relax, Mike Anderson. How's little Pippa Hatcher?
MIKE
Whoa, that was fast.
URSULA Ayuh. No secrets on the island.
MIKE
She's fine. Got her head stuck in the stairs. Her dad's out in the car, doing his homework for the Big Blow of '89.
URSULA
(laughing)
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