32
DAVEY (calls) Mrs. Clarendon? You all right?
37 INTERIOR: MARTHA'S LIVING ROOM, WITH LINOGE.
The weather is still playing. The storm graphics have moved closer toward their eventual point of impact. LINOGE sits in MARTHA'S chair, with his bloody cane drawn across his lap. His eyes are closed. His face has that look of meditation.
WEATHER LADY
One thing we do know is that the jet stream has taken on a pattern which is very typical for this time of year, although the upper flow is even stronger than usual, helping to account for the terrific strength of this western storm.
DAVEY (off-screen)
(calls)
Mrs. Clarendon? It's Davey! Davey Hopewell! Are you all right?
LINOGE opens his eyes. Once again they are BLACK . . . but now the black is shot through with TWISTS OF RED . . . like FIRE. HE GRINS, showing those AWFUL TEETH. We hold on this, then: FADE OUT. THIS ENDS ACT 1.
Act 2
38 EXTERIOR: THE PORCH OF MARTHA'S HOUSE DAY.
We are looking out through the open door at DAVEY HOPEWELL, who is approaching the door slowly and with growing unease. He's still got his basketball under his arm.
DAVEY
Mrs. Clarendon? Mrs.
WEATHER LADY (voice-over)
Large windows should be taped to improve their integrity in the face of strong wind gusts.
He stops suddenly, his eyes widening, as he sees:
39 INTERIOR: THE HALLWAY, FROM DAVEY'S POINT OF VIEW.
33
Sticking out of the shadows are two old-lady shoes, and the hem of an old-lady dress.
WEATHER LADY (voice-over) Gusts in this storm may range into . . .
40 EXTERIOR: THE PORCH, WITH DAVEY.
His fears temporarily forgotten he thinks he knows the worst, that she's fainted, or had a stroke, or something DAVEY drops to one knee and leans forward to examine her . . . then FREEZES. His basketball slips out from under his arm and rolls across the porch as his eyes fill up with horror. We don't need to see. We know.
WEATHER LADY (voice-over)
. . . speeds we normally associate with hurricanes. Check the dampers on stoves and fireplace chimneys! This is very important . . .
DAVEY pulls in breath, and at first can't get it out. We see him struggle. He is trying to scream.
He touches one of MARTHA'S shoes and makes a little wheezing noise.
LINOGE (voice)
Forget the NBA, Davey you'll never even play first string in high school. You're slow, and you couldn't throw it in the ocean.
DAVEY looks down the shadowy hall, realizing that MARTHA'S killer is likely still in MARTHA'S
house. His paralysis breaks. He lets out a SHRIEK, bolts to his feet, turns, and pelts down the steps.
He stumbles on the last one and sprawls on the walk.
LINOGE (voice)
(calling)
Also, you're short. You're a dwarf. Why don't you come on in here, Davey? I'll do you a favor.
Save you a lot of grief.
DAVEY scrambles to his feet and flees, flinging terrified glances back over his shoulder as he buttonhooks out of the CLARENDON gate, across the sidewalk, and into the street. He pelts down Atlantic toward the docks.
DAVEY
(screaming)
Help! Missus Clarendon's dead! Someone's killed her! Blood! Help! Oh, God, somebody help!
34
41 INTERIOR: MARTHA'S LIVING ROOM, WITH LINOGE.
His eyes are back to normal ... if you can call that cool, unsettling blue normal. He raises one hand, and makes a beckoning gesture with his index finger.
WEATHER LADY
The best way to sum up what we're saying to you is 'prepare for the worst, because this is going to be a bad one.'
42 EXTERIOR: MARTHA'S FRONT PORCH.
Faintly, we can still hear DAVEY HOPEWELL bawling for help. His basketball, which came to rest against the porch rail, rolls across the
boards slowly at first, then gathering speed to the front door. It bounces up over the doorstoop and inside.
43 INTERIOR: MARTHA'S HALL, LOOKING BACK TOWARD THE PORCH.
In the background is MARTHA'S body, just a dark lump of shadow. DAVEY'S basketball bounces past it, leaving great big smacks of blood every time in lands.
WEATHER LADY
Another piece of advice? Make sure you've got plenty of Smile-Boy all-beef bologna on hand.
When the weather turns nasty, nothing warms you up ...
44 INTERIOR: THE LIVING ROOM, WITH LINOGE.
The ball rolls across the floor, weaving between the furniture. When it reaches MARTHA'S chair, where LINOGE now sits, it bounces itself twice, gaining altitude. On the third bounce, it lands in his lap. He picks it up.
WEATHER LADY
(holds sandwich)
. . . like a good old fried bologna sandwich! Especially if the bologna is Smile-Boy all-beef bologna!
35
LINOGE He shoots . . .
He throws the ball with SUPERHUMAN FORCE at the TV. It hits the screen dead center, sending the WEATHER LADY, her sandwich, and her two enormous storm systems into electronic limbo.
Sparks fly.
LINOGE ... he scores!
45 EXTERIOR: ATLANTIC STREET, WITH DAVEY.
He's still running down the center of the street, still screaming at the top of his lungs.
DAVEY
Mrs. Clarendon! Someone killed Mrs. Clarendon! There's blood all over! One of her eyes is out!
It's on her cheek! Oh, God, one of her eyeballs is right out on her cheek!
People are coming to windows and opening front doors to look. They all know DAVEY, of course, but before anyone can grab him and calm him down, a big green Lincoln pulls in front of him, like a cop cutting off a speeder. Written on the side is ISLAND-ATLANTIC REALTY. A portly gentleman in a suit, tie, and topcoat (the only business garb on Little Tall Island, quite likely) gets out. We may or may not see a resemblance to the absurd mannequin on the store's porch. This is ROBBIE BEALS, the local big deal, the unpleasant DON BEALS'S even more unpleasant father. Now he grabs DAVEY
by the shoulders of his jacket and gives him a hard shake.
ROBBIE
Davey! Stop it! Stop that right now!
DAVEY stops it and begins to get himself under control.
ROBBIE
Why are you running down the middle of Atlantic Street, making a spectacle of yourself?
DAVEY Someone killed Mrs.
