Storm of the Century (22 page)

There’s blood everywhere--on the industrial-sized boxes of cereal and powdered milk, the bags of rice and flour and sugar, the large plastic bottles labeled COLA, ORANGE DRINK, and FRUIT PUNCH. There’s blood SIZZLING on the side of the lantern, blood on the wall calendar, and BLOODY

GLOVEPRINTS on the bare boards and beams (this is a pretty utilitarian place). There’s blood on the goods BILLY piled onto the toboggan, too. We can see this stuff because the tarp is gone.

99 INTERIOR: RESUME JOANNA, IN THE SHED DOORWAY.

Looks at:

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100 INTERIOR: A CORNER OF THE SUPPLY SHED, FROM JOANNA’S POINT OF VIEW.

Here’s the tarp. It’s been used to cover BILLY’S body, but his feet stick out.

THE CAMERA PANS across the back of the shed. Here, in the other corner, CAT WITHERS is crouched in a fetal position, her knees drawn up to her chest and the fingers of one hand crammed into her mouth. She looks up at JOANNA--THE CAMERA--with wide, dazed eyes.

101 INTERIOR: RESUME JOANNA, IN THE SHED DOORWAY.

Cat . . . what happened?

102 INTERIOR: RESUME CAT, CROUCHED IN THE CORNER.

CAT

I covered him up. He wouldn’t want people to see him the way he is now, so I covered him up. (pause) I covered him up because I loved him.

103 INTERIOR: RESUME JOANNA, IN THE SHED DOORWAY.

Utter horror.

104 INTERIOR: RESUME CAT, CROUCHED IN THE CORNER.

CAT

I think it was the cane with the wolf’s head that made me do it. I wouldn’t touch it, if I were you.
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(looks around)

So much blood. I loved him, and now look. I went and I killed him.

Slowly, she puts her fingers back into her mouth.

105 INTERIOR: RESUME JOANNA, IN THE SHED DOORWAY.

Oh, Cat. Oh, my God.

She turns and blunders away into the dark, headed back in the direction of the town hall.

106 INTERIOR: RESUME CAT, CROUCHED IN THE CORNER.

She’s huddled, looking around with big eyes. Then she begins to sing in a lilting little-girl’s voice. The words are muffled by her fingers, but we can make them out:

CAT

(sings)

“I’m a little teapot, short and stout. . . . Here is my handle, here is my spout. You can pick me up and pour me out. . . . I’m a little teapot, short and stout.”

107 EXTERIOR: JOANNA--NIGHT.

She’s struggling back toward the town hall. The hood of the parka has been flipped back by the wind once more, but this time she makes no effort to pull it back up. She stops, seeing:

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108 EXTERIOR: THE TOWN HALL PARKING LOT, FROM JOANNA’S POINT OF

VIEW--NIGHT.

Two figures are fighting their way through the snow toward a rank of snowmobiles near the side of the building.

109 EXTERIOR: RESUME JOANNA--NIGHT.

Hey! Help! Help!

110 EXTERIOR: RESUME PARKING LOT--NIGHT.

The two figures keep on moving. They haven’t heard JOANNA over the HOWL OF THE WIND.

111 EXTERIOR: RESUME JOANNA--NIGHT.

She changes course, heading for the parking lot instead of the kitchen door, and tries to run. She throws one terrified glance back over her shoulder at the open door of the supply shed.

112 EXTERIOR: THE PARKING LOT, WITH URSULA AND LUCIEN.

They reach one of the snowmobiles. LUCIEN gets on the front.

(shouts to be heard)

Don’t you dump me in a snowbank, Lucien Fournier!

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No, ma’am.

URSULA studies him for a moment, as if to make sure he is telling the truth, then gets on the snowmobile. LUCIEN turns the key. The headlight and the rudimentary dashboard lights come on. He pushes the starter. The ENGINE CRANKS but does not immediately start.

What’s wrong?

Nothing, she’s just bein’ grumpy.

He yanks the choke and prepares to start again.

(faint voice)

Hey! Help! HELP!

URSULA puts her hand over LUCIEN’s before he can punch the starter, and now they both hear. They turn toward:

113 EXTERIOR: JOANNA, FROM URSULA AND LUCIEN’S POINT OF VIEW--NIGHT.

She conies struggling and floundering through the drifts, reaching the parking lot, waving one hand like a drowning woman. She is snow-covered (has taken at least one tumble, I’d guess) and GASPING FOR

BREATH.

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114 EXTERIOR: AN ANGLE ON THE PARKING LOT--NIGHT.

LUCIEN gets off the snowmobile and makes his way to JOANNA. He’s just in time to catch her before she can fall again. He helps her back toward the snowmobile and URSULA joins them, very concerned.

Jo, what’s wrong?

Billy . . . dead . . . back there!

(points)

Katrina Withers killed him.

Cat?

She’s sitting in the corner ... I think she tried to tell me she hit him with a cane . . . but there’s so much blood . . . When I left, I think she was singing . . .

Shocked and bewildered reactions from URSULA and LUCIEN. URSULA recovers a little more quickly.

Are you really saying Cat Withers killed Billy Soames?

(JOANNA nods violently)

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Are you sure? Jo, are you sure he’s dead?

(nodding)

She covered him with a tarp, but I’m sure ... so much blood . . .

We better go back and look.

(terror)

I’m not going back there! I’m not going anywhere near there! She’s in the corner ... if you’d seen her . .

. the look on her face . . .

Lucien, can I drive this thing?

If you take it slow, sure, I guess. But-

I’ll take it slow, believe me. Jo and I are going to drive downstreet and talk to Mike Anderson. Aren’t we, Jo?

JOANNA nods with pitiful eagerness and climbs on the back of LUCIEN’S snow machine. She’ll agree to go anywhere before she agrees to go back to the supply shed.

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(to LUCIEN)

Get a couple of guys, go out to the supply shed, and see what’s what, okay? But don’t broadcast it ... and play it smart.

What’s going on here, Ursula?

She goes to the snowmobile, gets on the front, and thumbs the starter button. Now that the engine’s been choked, it starts easily. She guns the throttle, then settles her gloved hands on the handgrips.

I have no clue.

She drops the snowmobile in gear and drives away in a spume of snow, with JOANNA clinging to her. LUCIEN stands and watches them go, a picture of bewilderment.

115 EXTERIOR: THE ISLAND MARKET--NIGHT.

It’s now little more than a drifted-in shape in the blizzard. The few lights seem feeble and forlorn.

116 EXTERIOR: THE LOADING DOCK BEHIND THE STORE--NIGHT.

The snowmobile on which JACK CARVER and KIRK FREEMAN arrived is almost buried in snow. On the loading dock itself, we see a shape that is PETER GODSOE. His body has been wrapped in a blanket and then secured with rope. He looks like a corpse that’s ready for burial at sea.

117 INTERIOR: LINOGE, CLOSE.

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His face is wolfish, intent. The eyes are bright and interested.

THE CAMERA DRAWS SLOWLY BACK through the bars. As our view of LINOGE widens, we see he has resumed his favorite position--back to the wall, heels on the edge of the cot, peering through his slightly spread knees.

118 INTERIOR: THE CONSTABLE’S OFFICE, ANGLE ON THE DESK.

Here are MIKE, HATCH, ROBBIE, HENRY BRIGHT, KIRK FREEMAN, and JACK CARVER. The latter five look at LINOGE with a mixture of distrust and fear. MIKE is looking at him with perplexity.

I never seen anyone throw a fit like that in my life.

(to MIKE)

No ID of any kind?

No ID, no wallet, no money, no keys. No clothing tags, either, not even on his blue jeans. He’s just . . . here. And that’s not all.

(to ROBBIE)

Did he tell you anything? When you went into Martha’s house, Robbie, did he tell you anything he had no business knowing?

ROBBIE is immediately nervous. He does not, as they say, want to go there. But:
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LINOGE (voice)

You were with a whore in Boston when your mother died in Machias.

Robbie?

119 INTERIOR: MARTHA CLARENDON’S LIVING ROOM (flashback).

LINOGE PEEPS ROGUISHLY around one wing of MARTHA’S chair, his face streaked with MARTHA’S blood.

She’s waiting for you in hell. And she’s turned cannibal. Hell is repetition, Robbie. Isn’t it? Born in sin, come on in ... CATCH!

DAVEY HOPEWELL’S bloodstained basketball FLIES AT THE CAMERA.

120 INTERIOR: RESUME CONSTABLE’S OFFICE--NIGHT.

ROBBIE flinches as if the basketball were flying at his head; that’s how strong the memory is.

He did, didn’t he?

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He ... said something about my mother. You don’t need to know.

His eyes turn mistrustfully to LINOGE, who sits watching. LINOGE shouldn’t be able to hear what they’re saying--their voices are low-pitched, and they’re most of the way across the room--but ROBBIE

thinks (almost knows) that he can. He knows something else, as well. LINOGE could tell the others what he told ROBBIE: that ROBBIE was rolling around with a prostitute when his mother died.

I don’t think he’s human.

He looks at MIKE almost pleadingly, as if asking him to contradict this. But MIKE doesn’t.

Neither do I. I don’t know what he is.

God help us all.

121 INTERIOR: LINOGE, CLOSE-UP.

Watching them with wide-eyed intensity while the STORM HOWLS outside.

FADE TO BLACK. THIS ENDS ACT 3.

Act 4

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122 EXTERIOR: THE TOWN STORE--NIGHT.

We are looking up Main Street toward the center of town. A headlight appears, and we hear the WASP

WHINE of an approaching snowmobile. It’s URSULA, with JOANNA hanging on for dear life.

123 INTERIOR: THE DOORWAY OF THE SUPPLY SHED--NIGHT.

CAT (voice)

“I’m a little teapot, short and stout. . . . Here is my handle, here is my spout. . . .

LUCIEN FOURNIER stands in the doorway. Behind him are UPTON BELL, JOHNNY

HARRIMAN, old GEORGE KIRBY, and SONNY BRAUTIGAN. All of the men wear similar expressions of SHOCKED HORROR.

124 INTERIOR: CAT, IN THE CORNER OF THE SUPPLY SHED--NIGHT.

She’s rocking back and forth, fingers in her mouth, blood-spattered face blank.

CAT

“You can pick me up and pour me out. . . . I’m a little teapot, short and stout.”

125 INTERIOR: RESUME THE MEN IN THE DOORWAY.

(with an effort)

Come on. Help me get her inside.

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126 INTERIOR: THE CONSTABLE’S OFFICE, WITH MIKE AND THE OTHERS.

That fit he threw . . . what was that about?

MIKE shakes his head. Doesn’t know. Turns to ROBBIE.

Did he have a cane when you saw him?

You bet. It had a big silver wolfs head on top. It was bloody. I had an idea that was what he used to ... to ...

SOUND: The snowmobile. LIGHT FLASHES across the barred window high up in the cell. URSULA is driving down the alley to the back. MIKE returns his attention to LINOGE. As always, he addresses LINOGE with the calm of a police officer, although we can tell this is getting harder and harder to maintain.

Where’s your cane, sir? Where is it now?

(no response)

What is it you want?

LINOGE still won’t say. JACK CARVER and KIRK FREEMAN move toward the back door to see who’s coming. HATCH has done an admirable job of handling himself, but he’s getting more and more scared all the time, and we can see it. Now he turns to MIKE.

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We didn’t take him out of Martha’s . . . did we? He let himself be taken. Maybe he wanted to be taken.

We could kill him.

HATCH is shocked, wide-eyed. MIKE looks less surprised.

Nobody would have to know. Island business is island business, always has been and always will be. Like whatever Dolores Claiborne did to her husband during the eclipse. Or Peter and his marijuana.

We’d know.

I’m just saying we could . . . and maybe we should. Tell me the idea hasn’t already crossed your mind, Michael Anderson.

127 EXTERIOR: BEHIND THE STORE--NIGHT.

LUCIEN’S snowmobile pulls up beside the half-buried one JACK and KIRK came on. URSULA gets off and helps JOANNA off. Above them, the door between the constable’s office and the loading dock is open. JACK CARVER stands in the light.