193 INTERIOR: THE ISLAND SERVICES VEHICLE.
It's crammed with BEEFY GUYS. MIKE is at the wheel.
r
STORM OF THE CENTURY 221
What in the hell is that?
JOHNNY
(awed)
MIKE doesn't bother answering, but he's out of the truck almost before it has stopped moving.
The others follow, but MIKE is first up the steps.
194 INTERIOR: THE CONSTABLE'S OFFICE.
HATCH sleepwalks into that BRILLIANT LIGHT, heedless of the objects floating and swirling in the air. The PowerBook bumps his head. HATCH bats it aside and it floats away like something underwater. He reaches LINOGE, who is almost blindingly bright.
LINOGE is in reality an old man, we see, with ragged white hair falling almost to his shoulders.
His cheeks and brow are carved with lines, and his lips are sunken, but it's a strong face, all the same . . . and dominated by the eyes, which SWIRL WITH BLACK AND RED. His ordinary clothes are gone; he is wearing a dark robe that gleams with SHIFTING SILVER PATTERNS. He continues to hold his STAFF UP with one hand (there is still a SILVER WOLF'S HEAD at one end, but now we see the shaft is carved with magical runes and symbols) and grips HATCH'S shoulder with the other . . . only it's not really a hand at all, but a talon full of claws.
222 STEPHEN KING
LINOGE brings his face down until his brow is almost touching HATCH'S. His lips part, revealing his pointed teeth. During all of this, HATCH stares at him with wide, blank eyes.
LINOGE Give me what I want and I'll go away. Tell them. Give me what I want. . . and I'll go away.
He turns, the hem of his robe flaring, and strides toward the door that leads to the loading dock.
195 INTERIOR: THE MARKET, LOOKING TOWARD THE MAIN DOORS NIGHT.
They burst open, and MIKE runs in, followed by his posse. He moves up the center aisle, jumping the overturned card table, and grabs KIRK FREEMAN.
177
MIKE What happened? Where's Hatch?
KIRK points numbly into the constable's office. He is beyond words. MIKE plunges through the doorway . . . then stops.
196 INTERIOR: THE CONSTABLE'S OFFICE, FROM MIKE'S POINT OF VIEW.
Looks like a cyclone struck it. Papers and office supplies are strewn everywhere, fluttering in the draft from the open loading-dock door. HATCH'S PowerBook lies shattered on the floor. The jail cell is empty. A litter of bars lies in front of the door, which is still locked but gaping wide, all the same.
The hole is vaguely man-shaped.
ROBBIE and HENRY stand against the wall, their arms around each other, like small children who are lost in the dark. HATCH stands in the center of the floor with his back to MIKE and his head lowered.
MIKE approaches cautiously. The other men clog the door to the market, watching with big eyes and solemn faces.
MIKE Hatch? What happened?
STORM OF THE CENTURY 223 HATCH doesn't respond until MIKE actually touches his shoulder.
MIKE
What happened?
HATCH turns. His face has been changed in some fundamental way by his close encounter with LINOGE stamped by a terror that may never leave him, even if he survives the Storm of the Century.
MIKE (reacts) Hatch . . . my God . . . what . . . ?
HATCH
We have to give him what he wants. If we do that, he'll go away. He'll leave us alone. If we don't
. . .
HATCH looks toward the open loading-dock door, where SNOW is SWIRLING IN. ROBBIE joins them, walking slowly, like an old man.
Where did he go?
ROBBIE
HATCH
Out there. Into the storm. Now they all look toward the door.
197 EXTERIOR: DOWNTOWN, LOOKING TOWARD THE OCEAN NIGHT.
The snow is pelting, the drifts are still building, and the sea is still pounding the shore and sending up airbursts of foam. LINOGE is out there someplace, just another part of the storm.
FADE TO BLACK. THIS ENDS ACT 5.
Act 6
198 EXTERIOR: INTERSECTION OF MAIN AND ATLANTIC NIGHT.
The drifts are deeper than ever, and several show windows have been broken inward. The streets are impassable to even four-wheel drives now; the lampposts are buried halfway to their light globes.
178
THE CAMERA MOVES BACK TO THE DRUGSTORE, and we see the aisles have become frozen tundra. Frost twinkles on the letters spelling 'PRESCRIPTIONS' at the back of the store. Nearer the front there's a sign that reads BEAT OLD MAN WINTER WITH A GENIE HEATER!, but Old Man Winter's got the last laugh this time; the heaters are almost buried in snow.
The pendulum clock is too covered with snow to read, but still working. It begins to STRIKE THE
HOUR. One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .
199 INTERIOR: MARTHA CLARENDON'S FRONT HALL NIGHT.
We see her body, covered with the tablecloth. And hear another STRIKING CLOCK. Five ... six ...
seven . . . eight . . .
200 INTERIOR: THE WEE FOLKS DAY-CARE CENTER NIGHT.
A CUCKOO BIRD MOLLY'S kids must love is running in and out of the clock on the wall, impudent as a tongue. Nine . . . ten . . . eleven . . . twelve. With that last comment, the bird goes back into hiding. The day care itself is spotless but spooky, with its little tables and chairs, its pictures on the walls, the blackboard with 'WE SAY PLEASE' and 'WE SAY THANK YOU' written on it. There are too many shadows, too much silence.
201 EXTERIOR: THE LOADING DOCK BEHIND THE STORE NIGHT.
We see PETER GODSOE'S WRAPPED BODY, now just a frozen lump under the tarp . . . but those boots are still sticking out.
224
STORM OF THE CENTURY 225
202 INTERIOR: THE
