dream, no one knew where we went.
They look toward the draw curtains. MELINDA is standing there in her nightgown.
MELINDA
They're all dreaming it. Do you understand? They are all dreaming what we dreamed!
She looks back toward:
227 INTERIOR: THE SLEEPING AREA NIGHT.
The sleepers are in SLOW, TWISTY MOTION on their cots. They moan and protest without waking.
228 INTERIOR: RESUME TV AREA.
MELINDA But where could two hundred people disappear to?
SONNY and UPTON shake their heads. TESS conies halfway down the stairs. Her hair is mussed; she still looks half asleep.
TESS MARCHANT
Especially on a little island, cut off by a big storm . . .
MIKE gets up and snaps off the TV.
MIKE
Into the ocean.
What?
MELINDA (shocked)
236 STEPHEN KING
MIKE
Into the ocean. Mass suicide. If we don't give him what he wants.
SONNY
How could he
MIKE I don't know . . . but I think he can.
MOLLY comes through the draw curtains, holding RALPHIE in her arms. RALPHIE is fast asleep, but she can't bear to let him go.
MOLLY
What does he want, though? Mike, what does he want?
MIKE I'm sure we'll find out. When he's ready.
229 EXTERIOR: THE LIGHTHOUSE NIGHT.
The light swings around and around, briefly cutting through the DRIVING SNOW on each swing. In one of the shattered windows at the top, a SHAPE stands.
THE CAMERA MOVES IN ON LINOGE, who stands looking out at the town with his hands behind his back. He has the air of a ruler surveying his kingdom. At last he turns away.
230 INTERIOR: LIGHTHOUSE CONTROL ROOM NIGHT.
LINOGE, little more than a shadow in the RED LIGHTS of the control panels, crosses the circular room and opens the door to the stairs. THE CAMERA MOVES IN on the computer screen we saw before. Marching down from the top, replacing the storm surge warning for the morning's high tide, is this message, repeated over and over: "GIVE ME WHAT I WANT."
231 INTERIOR: THE LIGHTHOUSE STAIRCASE NIGHT.
We're looking down this dizzying spiral at LINOGE, who is descending rapidly.
STORM OF THE CENTURY 237
232 EXTERIOR: THE LIGHTHOUSE NIGHT.
LINOGE comes out, wolfs head cane in hand, and moves off into the snow, headed God knows where to do God knows what mischief. We HOLD on the lighthouse, then
FADE TO BLACK. THIS ENDS ACT 6.
Act?
233 EXTERIOR: THE DOWNTOWN AREA MORNING.
The snow is falling as fast and hard as ever. Buildings are half-buried. Power lines disappear into the snow. It looks like the newscast walk-and-ski we saw in the dreams, only with the storm still going on.
234 EXTERIOR: THE TOWN HALL MORNING.
The cupola with the memorial bell in it is almost buried, and the brick town hall building itself looks ghostly. The WIND HOWLS, unabated.
235 INTERIOR: THE TOWN MEETING HALL MORNING.
About half of the folks who took shelter in the town hall are here, sitting on the hard wooden benches with plates on their laps, eating pancakes and drinking juice. A kind of buffet has been set up at the back of the hall, with MRS. KINGSBURY (wearing a brilliant red hunter's cap with the bill turned around backward gangster-style) and TESS MARCHANT officiating. There's juice, coffee, and cold cereal in addition to the pancakes.
The folks eating breakfast are very quiet . . . not sullen, but introspective and a little afraid. All the families with small children are up of course they are, wee folks rise and shine early and among them we see the HATCHERS and the ANDERSONS in a sleepy morning party of six. MIKE is feeding RALPHIE bites of pancake, and HATCH is doing about the same with PIPPA. The wives drink coffee and talk quietly.
The side door OPENS, letting in a HOWL OF WIND, a SWIRL OF SNOW, and an excited JOHNNY HARRIMAN.
JOHNNY
Mike! Hey, Mikey! I never seen such a storm surge in my life! I think the lighthouse is gonna go! I really do!
The ISLANDERS STIR and MURMUR. MIKE puts RALPHIE on
238
STORM OF THE CENTURY 239
MOLLY'S lap and gets up. HATCH gets up too, and so do most of the others.
MIKE
Folks, if you go out, stay close to the building! We've got whiteout conditions, remember!
236 EXTERIOR: ANGLE ON THE HEADLAND AND THE LIGHTHOUSE MORNING.
The tide is coming high, and huge waves pound the rocks. The headland is almost inundated with each one. The base of the lighthouse is drowned with each incoming surge of water. The lighthouse survived last night's high tide; it probably won't survive this one.
237 EXTERIOR: THE SIDE OF THE TOWN HALL MORNING.
ISLANDERS spill out, CHATTERING, some buttoning their coats, some knotting scarves under their chins, some pulling up hoods