What do you think, Lucien, want to poke out his other eye? Finish the job?
(LUCIEN looks down, says nothing) Alex?
(ALEX is also mum) Born in sin, come on in.
LINOGE leaves them, walking toward the front of the hall again.
STORM OF THE CENTURY 319
86 INTERIOR: ROBBIE BEALS.
He's standing between his little town-manager's table and the stage, face still running with sweat, the collar of his shirt now drenched, as well. He is seeing:
87 INTERIOR: THE MEETING HALL, FROM ROBBIE'S POINT OF VIEW.
Coming slowly up the aisle to the stage, still wearing the hospital johnny, her wild white hair spraying out all around her head, is the FALSE MOTHER. It's still LINOGE, of course, and he's still clutching the wolfs head cane.
FALSE MOTHER
Robbie, why did I have to die among strangers? You still haven't explained that. Why did I have to die calling for you? All I wanted was a kiss
88 INTERIOR: THE MEETING HALL, ANGLE ON THE STAGE.
As LINOGE (he is LINOGE, in this shot) approaches, ROBBIE yanks the pistol from his pocket and points it at him.
ROBBIE Stay away! I'm warning you, stay back!
LINOGE Oh, put that down.
ROBBIE'S hand opens. We can see him struggling to keep this from happening, but it's as though a bigger hand one we can't quite see has grabbed his and is bending the fingers back one by one. The pistol THUMPS TO THE STAGE FLOOR just as LINOGE mounts the stairs at center stage.
89 INTERIOR: THE FRONT OF THE STAGE, FROM ROBBIE'S POINT OF VIEW.
It's the FALSE MOTHER mounting those steps, with the hospital johnny flapping around her scrawny body. She points the tip of the cane at ROBBIE; her rheumy old eyes FLASH MALEVOLENTLY.
FALSE MOTHER
Why don't you tell these people where you were and what you were doing when I died, Robbie? I think your wife would be especially interested, don't you?
320 STEPHEN KING
90 INTERIOR: ANGLE ON ROBBIE, LINOGE, AND THE FIRST FEW ROWS
BELOW.
ROBBIE
You keep your mouth shut! Sandra, don't listen to him! It's all lies!
SANDRA BEALS, puzzled and afraid, starts to get up. URSULA seizes her wrist and gets her to sit down again.
On stage, LINOGE reaches one hand out toward ROBBIE'S face, clutching with the fingertips.
LINOGE
Your eyes . . .
91 INTERIOR: THE FALSE MOTHER, FROM ROBBIE'S POINT OF VIEW.
FALSE MOTHER 111 eat your eyes right out of your head . . .
The bony old hand not holding the cane continues to make CLUTCHING GESTURES.
92 INTERIOR: THE STAGE.
ROBBIE stumbles backward, trips over his own feet, and FALLS DOWN. He skitters backward from LINOGE/MOM on his butt, pushing with his feet, finishing up crouched beneath his own small town-manager's table. There he stops, GIBBERING SOFTLY. His gun lies forgotten on the stage some five feet away.
The ISLANDERS MURMUR, FRIGHTENED, as LINOGE steps behind the podium and grips its sides like a confident politician about to orate.
LINOGE
Not to worry, folks he'll recuperate just fine, I'm sure. And in the meantime, it's sort of nice to have him under the table instead of pounding on it, wouldn't you say? Sort of restful. Come on. Tell the truth . . .
(he pauses; smiles) . . . and shame the devil.
STORM OF THE CENTURY 321 They look at him silently, fearfully. He looks back, smiling.
LINOGE
So now we come to it, don't we? I'll lay things out for you, then go downstairs and wait for you to take your decision.
93 INTERIOR: THE ISLANDERS.
SONNY BRAUTIGAN stands. He's scared but determined to speak.
SONNY
Why did you come here? Why us?
94 INTERIOR: MIKE AND MOLLY, CLOSE-UP.
啸V MIKE
(low; almost to himself) I guess there's just something about us that pisses him off.
MOLLY takes his hand. MIKE folds his fingers over hers, raises her hand to his cheek, and rubs it there, taking comfort from her touch.
95 INTERIOR: ANGLE ON THE STAGE AND THE HALL, FEATURES LINOGE
LINOGE
I'm here because island folks know how to pull together for the common good when they need to ... and island folks know how to keep a secret. That was true on Roanoke Island in 1587, and it's true on Little Tall in 1989.
HATCH
(stands) Tell us. Quit dancing around it. Tell us what you want.
HATCH sits down. LINOGE stands at the podium with his head bent, as if in thought. The ISLANDERS wait breathlessly for him to go on. Outside, the WIND MOANS. At last, the stranger raises his head and looks at his audience.
LINOGE
Your children are here with you . . . but they're not. It's the same with me, because part of me is with