Storm of the Century (40 page)

Can’t you be a good loser?

This isn’t a ... a baseball game!

137 INTERIOR: THE KIDS’ CORNER, WITH LINOGE.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He is now a WIZARD from head to toe, wrapped in a BRIGHT BLUE AURA. We once more see his GREAT AGE. The other parents and friends surrounding the sleeping children draw back from him in fear. He pays them absolutely no notice. He bends down, picks RALPHIE ANDERSON up in his arms, and gazes at the boy raptly.

138 INTERIOR: THE FOOT OF THE CENTER AISLE, WITH MOLLY.

In her hysteria, she almost succeeds in struggling free from the big men holding her. She faces LINOGE

along the length of the aisle with HYSTERICAL DEFIANCE.

You tricked us!

Perhaps you tricked yourselves.

He’ll never belong to you! Never!

LINOGE lifts the sleeping boy up like an offering. The BLUE GLOW around him INTENSIFIES . . . and now it begins to STEAL OVER RALPHIE, as well. LINOGE’S age is not kindly but cruel, a thing to be feared. And his smile is horrible in its triumph ... a thing to haunt our dreams.

But he will. He’ll come to love me. (pause) He’ll come to call me Father.

There is an awful truth to this against which MOLLY cannot hold out. She slumps in the hands holding her back, ceasing to resist. LINOGE holds her gaze a moment longer, then turns, the hem of his silk robe flaring out. He strides for the door. Everyone turns to watch him.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

139 INTERIOR: MIKE.

He gets up. That DEAD LOOK is still on his face. HATCH reaches for him.

Mike, I don’t think-

(pushes his hand off)

Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again. Not any of you. (looks at MOLLY)

Not any of you.

He walks up the side aisle. No one stops him.

140 INTERIOR: THE CORRIDOR OF THE TOWN HALL.

MIKE steps out of the meeting hall just in time to see the hem of LINOGE’S robe going out the front door and into the night. He pauses, then goes after.

141 EXTERIOR: THE FRONT STEPS OF THE TOWN HALL--NIGHT.

MIKE comes out and stands looking, his breath PUFFING SILVER in the moonlight.

142 EXTERIOR: LINOGE AND RALPHIE IN FRONT OF THE TOWN HALL--NIGHT.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

LINOGE is still GLOWING BRIGHT BLUE. THE CAMERA TRACKS WITH HIM as he carries RALPHIE down the slope toward the street . . . the shore . . . the reach . . . the mainland . . . and all the leagues of Earth beyond. We see LINOGE’S tracks, first quite heavy . . . then light. . . then just faint prints.

As LINOGE passes the cupola with the memorial bell inside, he begins rising into the air. Only an inch or two at first, but the distance between him and the earth is growing. It’s almost as if he’s climbing stairs we can’t see.

143 EXTERIOR: MIKE, ON THE TOWN HALL STEPS--NIGHT.

He cries out after his son, putting all his grief and loss into that one shouted word:

Ralphie!

144 EXTERIOR: LINOGE AND RALPHIE--NIGHT.

RALPHIE opens his eyes and looks around.

Where am I? Where’s my daddy?

MIKE (voice, growing faint)

Ralphie . . .

It doesn’t matter, fairy-saddle boy. Look down!

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

RALPHIE looks down. They are flying over the reach now. Their shadows flee across the waves, etched in moonlight. RALPHIE smiles, delighted.

Whoa! Neat! (pause) Is it real?

Real as rhubarb.

RALPHIE looks back at:

145 EXTERIOR: LITTLE TALL ISLAND, FROM RALPHIE’S POINT OF VIEW--NIGHT.

This is almost a negative image of our introduction to the island--night instead of day, going away instead of approaching. In the moonlight, Little Tall looks almost like an illusion. Which, to RALPHIE, it will soon be.

146 EXTERIOR: RESUME LINOGE AND RALPHIE--NIGHT.

(very impressed)

Where we going?

LINOGE tosses his scepter into the air ahead of him. It rises and resumes the position it held in the visions of LINOGE and the FLYING CHILDREN. Its shadow, now thrown by the moon instead of by the sun, lies across LINOGE’S face. He bends and kisses the fairy saddle on RALPHIE’S nose.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Anywhere. Everywhere. All the places you ever dreamed of.

What about my mom and dad? When are they coming?

(smiling)

Why don’t we worry about them later?

Well, he’s the grown-up . . . and besides, this is fun.

Okay.

LINOGE turns--banks like an airplane, almost--and flies away from us.

147 EXTERIOR: MIKE, ON THE TOWN HALL STEPS--NIGHT.

He’s weeping. JOANNA STANHOPE comes out and puts a hand on his shoulder. She speaks to him with infinite kindness.

Mike. Come in.

He ignores her, going down the steps and stumbling his way into the new snow. It’s tough going for folks
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

who aren’t wizards, but he flounders ahead just the same, even though it’s waist deep at times. He follows LINOGE’S footprints, and THE CAMERA TRACKS WITH HIM, watching as the impressions grow lighter and lighter, less and less tied to the earth where mortals must live.

Past the memorial bell, there is one more faint imprint. . . then nothing. Just acres of virgin snow. MIKE

collapses beside that last print, CRYING. He holds his hands up to the EMPTY SKY, the GLOWING

MOON.

(low)

Bring him back. Please. I’ll do anything if you bring my son back. Anything you want.

148 EXTERIOR: THE DOORS TO THE TOWN HALL--NIGHT.

They are crowded with ISLANDERS who stand there, silently watching. JOHNNY and SONNY, FERD and LUCIEN, TAVIA and DELLA, HATCH and MELINDA.

MIKE (pleading voice)

Bring him back!

The faces of the ISLANDERS do not change. We may see sympathy, but we will see no mercy. Not here; not among these. What’s done is done.

149 EXTERIOR: RESUME MIKE, ON THE SNOWFIELD--NIGHT.

He huddles in the snow beyond the cupola holding the memorial bell. Holds his arms out to the moon and the light-drenched water one final time, but without hope.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

(whispers)

Please bring him back.

THE CAMERA begins to PULL UP AND AWAY. Little by little, MIKE loses his human dimension and becomes just a black speck on a VAST WHITE SNOWFIELD. Beyond is the headland, the tumbled lighthouse, and the waves of the reach.

FADE TO BLACK.

MIKE (voice)

(a final whispered plea)

I love him. Have mercy.

THIS ENDS ACT 6.

Act 7

150 EXTERIOR: THE REACH--A SUMMER MORNING.

The sky is bright blue, and so is the reach. Fishing boats chug stolidly; pleasure boats dash, dragging wakes and whooping water-skiers. Overhead, gulls SWOOP AND CRY.

151 EXTERIOR: A SEACOAST TOWN--MORNING.

TITLE CARD: MACHIAS, SUMMER OF 1989.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

152 EXTERIOR: A SMALL CLAPBOARD BUILDING ON MAIN STREET--MORNING.

The sign out front reads SEACOAST COUNSELING SERVICES. And, below this: THERE IS A SOLUTION. WE’LL FIND IT TOGETHER.

THE CAMERA MOVES IN on a side window. A WOMAN sits there, looking out. Her eyes are red, her cheeks wet with tears. Her hair is gray, and at first we do not recognize MOLLY ANDERSON. She has aged twenty years.

153 INTERIOR: THE COUNSELOR’S OFFICE--MORNING.

MOLLY sits in a bentwood rocker, looking out at summer and CRYING SOUNDLESSLY. Sitting across from her is her COUNSELOR, a professional woman in a light cream-colored summer skirt and silk summer blouse. Nicely coiffed, nicely turned out, and looking at MOLLY with that kind of sympathy good psychologists show--often helpful, but scary in its distance.

The silence spins out. The COUNSELOR is waiting for MOLLY to break it, but MOLLY only sits in the rocker, looking out at summer with her streaming eyes.

You and Mike haven’t slept together in ... how long?

(looking out the window)

Five months. Give or take. I could tell you exactly, if you thought it would help. The last time was the night before the big storm came. The Storm of the Century.

When you lost your son.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Correct. When I lost my son.

And Mike blames you for that loss.

I think he’s going to leave me.

You’re very afraid of that, aren’t you?

I think he’s running out of ways to stay. Do you understand what I mean by that?

Tell me again what happened to Ralphie.

Why? What good will it do? For God’s sake, what good can it do? He’s gone!

The COUNSELOR makes no response. After a bit, MOLLY sighs and gives in.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

It was the second day. We were in the town hall--where we took shelter, you know. The storm . . . you can’t believe how bad it was.

I was here. I went through it.

Yes--you were here, Lisa. On the mainland. It’s different on the island, (pause) Everything’s different on the island, (pause) Anyway, Johnny Harriman came rushing in while we were having breakfast and said the lighthouse was going over. Everyone wanted to see, of course . . . and Mike . . .

154 EXTERIOR: THE ANDERSON HOUSE--SUMMER MORNING.

There’s a SMALL WHITE CAR at the curb with the trunk lid up. There are two or three suitcases in it. Now the door opens and MIKE comes out, carrying two more. He closes the door, descends the porch steps, and goes down the walk. Every motion and gesture, every look back, tells us that this is a man who is leaving for good.

MOLLY (voice-over)

Mike told us it was whiteout, and to stay close to the building. Ralphie wanted to see . . . Pippa and all the kids wanted to go out and see . . . and so we took them. God help us, we took them.

MIKE stops by the WEE FOLKS DAY-CARE sign. It’s still chain-hung from a low branch of the yard maple, but now it looks dusty, somehow. Forgotten. Of no importance. MIKE yanks it down, looks at it, then turns and throws it back at the porch, momentarily FURIOUS.

MOLLY (voice-over)

It was a mistake for any of us to go out, especially the children. We underestimated the storm. Several people wandered away and were lost. Ralphie was one of them. Angie Carver found her way back. None of the others did.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

MIKE looks at the porch, where the sign has landed, then turns and walks down to his car. He puts the last couple of bags in and slams the trunk. As he starts around to the driver’s side, digging the keys out of his pocket:

HATCH (voice)

Mike?

MIKE turns. HATCH, looking strange in a T-shirt and Bermuda shorts, walks up to where he stands. He looks painfully unhappy to be here. MIKE looks back at him coolly.

If you’ve got something to say, best say it. Ferry leaves at 11:10, and I don’t intend to miss it.

Where you going?

(silence from MIKE)

Don’t, Michael. Don’t leave.

(silence from MIKE)

Would it do you any good to tell you I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since February?

(no answer from MIKE)

Would it do any good to tell you that . . . we might have been wrong?

Hatch, I have to get going.

Robbie says to tell you the constable’s job is yours again whenever you want it. All you have to do is ask.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Tell him where he can park his job. I’m done here. I’ve tried until I can’t try anymore.

He starts for the driver’s door, and just before he swings in, HATCH touches his arm. MIKE whirls at that touch, eyes burning, as if he means to punch HATCH’S lights out. But HATCH doesn’t flinch. Maybe he thinks he deserves it.

Molly needs you. Have you seen the way she is, now? Have you even looked?

You look for me. Okay?

(drops his eyes)

Melly isn’t doing very well, either. She takes a lot of tranquilizers. I think she might be hooked on them.

Too bad. But . . . you’ve got your daughter, at least. You may not sleep so well, but you can go into Pippa’s bedroom and watch her sleep any night you want. Can’t you?

You’re as self-righteous as ever. Can’t see it any way but your way.

MIKE swings behind the wheel and looks bleakly up at HATCH.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

I’m not anything. I’m empty--scooped out as a gourd in November.

If you could just try to understand-

I understand that the ferry leaves at 11:10, and if I don’t get moving now, I’m going to miss it. Good luck, Hatch. Hope you catch up on your sleep.