Storm of the Century (38 page)

MIKE has no real answer for this.

He could be bluffing about the kids, too. Satan’s the father of lies, and this guy has got to be a close relation.

(shrill and angry)

Is that a risk you want to take? Fine . . . but take it with your son, not mine!

LINDA ST. PIERRE

My sentiments exactly.

You want to know the worst thing I can think of, Michael? Suppose you’re half right? Suppose we live .

. . and they die.

(points to the KIDS)

How will we look at each other then? How will we live with each other then?

And how would we ever live with you?

UGLY ASSENTING MURMURS to this. JACK the gay-basher goes back to his sleeping little boy and sits down beside him. MIKE has no real answer for this, either. We can see him floundering for one and not rinding it.

ROBBIE looks at the clock. It’s 9:20.

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He said half an hour. That leaves us ten minutes.

We can’t do this! Can’t you see? Don’t you understand? We can’t allow him to-

(not unkindly)

I think we’ve heard your side of it, Mike. Take a seat, why don’t you?

MIKE looks at them helplessly. He’s not stupid, and he can see which way the wind is blowing.

You need to think about this, folks. You need to think about it very carefully.

He goes back down the steps and sits beside MOLLY. He takes her hand. She lets him hold it for a second or two, then draws it away.

I want to sit with Ralphie, Mike.

She gets up and goes down the center aisle to where the KIDS are sleeping on their cots. She disappears into the circle of parents without a look back.

Do you have more, folks? What’s your pleasure?

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A moment of SILENCE.

(steps forward)

God help us, but let’s give him what he wants. Give him what he wants and send him on his way. I don’t care about my life, but the children . . . even if it’s Sally. Better she should live with a bad man than . . . than die . . .

(she looks around, weeping)

My God, Michael Anderson, where’s your heart? They’re children! We can’t let him kill the children!

She goes back to the kids. MIKE, meanwhile, is being isolated in a circle of hostile eyes.

(glances at the clock)

Anyone else?

MIKE starts to get up. HATCH puts his hand on his arm and squeezes. When MIKE looks at him, surprised and questioning, HATCH gives a tiny shake of the head. “Stop,” that small headshake says;

“you’ve done all you can do.”

MIKE shakes him off and stands up again. He doesn’t use the stage this time, but addresses his fellow ISLANDERS from where he is.

Don’t. Please. The Andersons go back to 1735 here on Little Tall. I ask you as an islander and as Ralphie Anderson’s father--don’t do this. Don’t give in to this, (pause) This is damnation.

He looks around desperately. None of them, not even his own wife, will meet his eyes. SILENCE

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descends again. It’s broken only by the WHINE OF THE WIND outside and the TICK OF THE

REGULATOR CLOCK.

All right, I move to restrict the vote. Let the parents vote, and the parents only. They’re all residents-LINDA ST. PIERRE

No, that’s not fair.

She touches her sleeping daughter’s brow with gentle love.

LINDA ST. PIERRE

I’ve raised her by myself--oh, with plenty of help from folks on the island, including you and your wife, Mike--but mostly by myself. I shouldn’t have to make a decision like this all by myself. What’s a community for, if it isn’t to help people when something terrible happens? When none of the choices look good?

Couldn’t have said it better myself, Lin.

But-

Sit down . . . Call the question . . . Let’s vote!

(etc.)

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Will somebody move the question of who can vote? It’s probably not parliamentary, but we have to move on. I’d prefer to hear from one of the parents.

A moment of TENSE SILENCE, then:

I move everybody votes.

I second it.

This isn’t-

Shut up! You’ve had your say, now just shut up!

It’s been moved and seconded that everyone be allowed to vote on whether or not to give Mr. Linoge what he has demanded. Those in favor?

Every hand goes up except for MIKE’S. He sees that MOLLY has also raised her hand, sees she won’t look at him, and something in him dies a little.

Those opposed?

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Not a single hand goes up. MIKE simply sits in the front row, his head dropped.

(whacks the gavel)

The motion carries.

Call the question, Robbie Beals. The real question.

118 INTERIOR: THE BASEMENT, WITH LINOGE.

He looks up at the ceiling, EYES GLEAMING in the gloom. They’re going to vote, and he knows it.

119 INTERIOR: RESUME TOWN MEETING HALL--NIGHT.

For God’s sake--let’s vote and have done!

My son isn’t a part of this. Let’s understand that, all right? He’s not a part of this . . . obscenity.

Yes. He is.

UTTER SILENCE greets this. MIKE stands up and looks unbelievingly at his wife. They face each other that way across the length of the meeting hall.

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We’ve never shirked our duty, Michael, we’ve taken part in all the life of this island, and we’ll take part in this.

You don’t mean it--you can’t mean it.

I do.

It’s insane.

Maybe--but it’s not an insanity we made. Michael-

I’m leaving. Screw this. Screw all of you. I’m taking my son and leaving.

He gets about three steps before the self-appointed sergeants-at-arms grab him and yank him back to his seat. MOLLY sees MIKE struggling, sees how rough they’re being--they don’t like his disapproval of this highly questionable decision--and runs down the aisle toward him.

Hatch! Help me!

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But HATCH turns away, FACE FLUSHING WITH EMBARRASSMENT. And when MIKE lunges in his direction, LUCIEN smashes him in the nose. Blood flows.

Stop it! Stop hurting him! Mike, are you all right? Are you-

Get away from me. You want to do it before I lose control of myself and spit in your face.

She takes a step back from him, eyes huge and shocked.

Mike, if you’d only see . . . this isn’t our decision to make alone. This affects the whole town!

I know it does--what else have I been saying? Get away from me, Molly.

She backs away, GRIEVING and SORROWFUL. SONNY BRAUTIGAN hands MIKE a handkerchief.

You can let go. I’ll sit.

They let go, but warily. On the podium, ROBBIE looks on with unmistakable satisfaction. “This may be a bad situation,” his face says, “but at least our self-righteous prick of a constable is taking a face-washing, and that’s something.”

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MOLLY, meanwhile, backs away from MIKE, who won’t look at her. Her face twists and crumples. WEEPING, she walks toward the back of the room. People sitting on the aisle pat her hands and WHISPER COMFORTS and ENCOURAGEMENTS as she goes--”That’s all right, deah” . . . “He’ll come around” . . . “You’re doing the right thing.” At the back of the room, MELINDA, JILL, and LINDA ST. PIERRE enfold her.

HATCH slides close to MIKE, almost humming with shame.

Mike, I-

(doesn’t look at him)

Shut up. Get away from me.

When you’ve had a chance to think about it, you’ll understand. You’ll come around. It’s the only thing we can do. What else is there? Die for a principle? Every one of us? Including those who’re too young to understand why they’re dying? You need to think about it.

MIKE at last looks up.

And if it’s Pippa that Linoge ends up taking?

A long silence as HATCH thinks. Then he meets MIKE’S eyes.

I’ll tell myself she died as an infant. That it was a crib death, something no one could help or foresee.
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And I’ll believe it. Melly and me, we’ll both believe it.

ROBBIE hammers on the podium some more with the gavel.

Oyez, oyez--this question has been called. Do we or do we not give Mr. Linoge what he has asked for, pursuant to his promise that he will leave us in peace? How say you, Little Tall? Those in favor, signify in the usual way.

There is a moment of BREATHLESS SILENCE, and then, at the back of the room, ANDY

ROBICHAUX raises his hand.

I’m Harry’s father, and I vote yes.

I’m his mother, and so do I.

Carla and I vote yes.

LINDA ST. PIERRE raises her hand. So does SANDRA BEALS, and at the podium, ROBBIE raises his.

(raises her hand)

Yes. We have no choice.

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No choice.

He raises his hand.

I vote yes--it’s the only way.

She raises her hand, and so does TAVIA.

Got to.

Up goes his hand. ANGELA takes a long, loving look at the sleeping BUSTER, then raises her own.

The eyes of everyone in the room turn to MOLLY. She kneels, kisses RALPHIE on the fairy saddle on his nose, then rises to her feet. She speaks to them all ... but in a way, she speaks only to MIKE, her face pleading for understanding.

To lose one in life is better than to lose them all in death. I vote yes.

She raises her hand. Soon other hands go up. THE CAMERA RANGES AMONG all the folks we have come to know, watching as every hand goes up ... save one.

ROBBIE draws the moment out, looking at the forest of raised arms and solemn faces. To give these people the credit they’re due, they have made a terrible decision . . . and know it.
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(soft)

Those opposed?

The raised hands go down. MIKE, still looking at the floor, hoists his hand high in the air.

I count all in favor save one. The motion is carried.

120 INTERIOR: THE REGULATOR CLOCK, CLOSE-UP.

The minute hand reaches 9:30, and the CLOCK CHIMES ONCE.

121 INTERIOR: RESUME TOWN MEETING HALL--NIGHT.

The doors open. LINOGE steps in, his cane in one hand, the small chamois bag in the other.

Folks, have you reached your decision?

Yes . . . we’ve voted in favor.

Excellent.

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He walks along the back row, then pauses when he reaches the center aisle. He looks at the parents.

You’ve made the right choice.

MOLLY turns away, sickened by this smiling monster’s approval. LINOGE sees her revulsion, and his smile broadens. He makes his way slowly down the center aisle, holding the bag of marbles out before him.

He mounts the steps, and ROBBIE moves away from him rapidly, his face full of terror. LINOGE

stands by the podium, looking at his hostages with a kindly smile.

You’ve done a hard thing, my friends, but despite what the constable may have told you, it’s also a good thing. The right thing. The only thing, really, that loving, responsible people could have done, under the circumstances.

He holds out the bag by the drawstring, so it hangs down from his hand.

These are weirding stones. They were old when the world was young, and used to decide great issues long before Atlantis sank into the African Ocean. There are seven white stones in here . . . and one black one.

LINOGE pauses . . . smiles ... a smile that shows the tips of his fangs.

You’re eager for me to be gone, and I don’t blame you. Will one parent of each child come forward,
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please? Let’s finish this up.

122 INTERIOR: THE ISLANDERS.

Realizing for the first time on a gut level what they have done. Realizing also that it’s too late to turn back.

123 INTERIOR: LINOGE, CLOSE-UP.

Smiling. Showing the tips of his fangs. And holding out the bag. It’s time to choose.

FADE TO BLACK. THIS ENDS ACT 5.

Act 6

124 EXTERIOR: THE REACH--NIGHT.

The snow has stopped, and now MOONLIGHT beats a gilded track across the reach toward the mainland.