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.
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.
The last BONGS of the regulator clock die away to the SOUND OF THE WIND whining around outside the building. People look around nervously for any sign of LINOGE. After a moment or two, ROBBIE gets up from his little table and approaches the podium, tugging fussily at the hem of his sport coat.
ROBBIE
Ladies and gentlemen . . . like you, I'm not sure what we're waiting for, but
JOHNNY HARRIMAN
Then why don't you sit down and wait like the rest of us, Robbie?
314 STEPHEN KING
NERVOUS LAUGHTER greets this. ROBBIE frowns at JOHNNY.
ROBBIE
I only wanted to say, Johnny, that I'm sure we'll find our way through this . . . situation ... if we stick together, as we have always stuck together on the island . . .
78 INTERIOR: THE TOWN HALL'S FRONT DOOR NIGHT.
It SMASHES OPEN with a LOUD, ECHOING BOOM. Outside, standing in the snow on the stoop, we see LINOGE'S boots and the black shaft of LINOGE'S cane.
79 INTERIOR: ROBBIE BEALS.
He stops talking and looks toward the door. His face is just pouring sweat.
80 INTERIOR: MONTAGE OF ISLANDERS.
TAVIA . . . JONAS STANHOPE . . . HATCH . . . MELINDA . . . ORV . . . REV. BOB RIGGINS . . . LUCIEN . . . others. All looking toward the door.
81 INTERIOR: TOWN HALL CORRIDOR NIGHT.
The boots step onto the black-and-white-checked tiles. The cane keeps pace, coming down at regular intervals. We TRACK WITH THE BOOTS until they reach the door that gives upon the meeting hall. Then THE CAMERA BOOMS UP to the double doors with their glass panels. Written across them is LITTLE TALL ISLAND TOWN MEETING HALL. And, below that, LET US TRUST IN GOD AND EACH OTHER. We can see the ISLANDERS looking out toward the visitor, their eyes wide and AFRAID.
Hands clad in BRIGHT YELLOW GLOVES come up and grasp the two doorknobs. They open the doors toward THE CAMERA . . .
82 INTERIOR: THE TOWN MEETING HALL DOORWAY, REVERSE NIGHT.
LINOGE stands there in pea jacket and yellow gloves, his cane tucked beneath one arm. He is smiling, eyes more or less normal, his MONSTER TEETH prudently hidden. He strips off his gloves and tucks them into his jacket pockets.
STORM OF THE CENTURY 315
Slowly, and in a SILENCE so thick it's deafening, LINOGE enters the room. The only SOUND is the STEADY TICK of the regulator clock.
83 INTERIOR: THE TOWN MEETING HALL NIGHT.
LINOGE walks slowly along the aisle that runs behind the benches and in front of the crumb-strewn tables where the buffet was set up. All of the ISLANDERS, but especially those occupying the last two or three rows of benches (those closest to him, in other words) turn to look at him, their eyes distrustful and afraid.
When LINOGE nears the little grouping of cots and the SLEEPING CHILDREN, the self-appointed guardians draw together, creating a barrier between LINOGE and the KIDS.
LINOGE reaches the place where a right turn will take him down the center aisle to the stage. For a moment he stands there, SMILING BENIGNLY, obviously enjoying the FEAR AND DISTRUST swirling in the silent room. Feeding on it, likely.
We INTERCUT this with all