Free Storm of the Century by Stephen King

street and watching. They have worked themselves quite a bit closer, but don’t dare come all the way. The door to MARTHA’S house still stands ominously open.

ROBBIE

    Martha Clarendon’s house on Atlantic Street! Where did you think I was, Bar Harbor? I’m-(a great idea occurs to him) I’m keeping the man inside at bay! Now get your ass down here!

    He racks the mike, then fumbles in the glove compartment. Under the jumble of maps, town documents, and Whopper wrappers, he finds a little pistol. He gets out of his car.

    67 EXTERIOR: ROBBIE.
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ROBBIE
    (calls down to the cluster of folks)
    You stay where you are!

    With his authority thus exerted, ROBBIE turns toward the house and points his gun at the open door. He’s recovered a certain amount of his toadlike savoir faire, but he’s not about to go back in there. The man in there didn’t just kill MARTHA CLARENDON; he knew where ROBBIE was when ROBBIE’S
    mother died. He knew ROBBIE’S name.

    The WIND GUSTS, blowing ROBBIE’S gray-streaked hair back from his brow . . . and the first few snowflakes of the Storm of the Century go dancing past his face.

    68 INTERIOR: ANDERSON’S MARKET, WITH MIKE, HATCH, ONLOOKERS.

    MIKE stands with the microphone in his hand, trying to think what to do next. As CAT WITHERS
    takes the mike and racks it, he makes up his mind.

MIKE
    (to HATCH)
    Let’s take another ride, all right?

HATCH
    Sure. . .

MIKE

    Cat, you and Tess’re minding the store.
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    (raising his voice)
    All you folks just stay and finish your shopping, all right? There’s nothing you can do on Atlantic Street, and whatever’s happened over there, you’ll know it soon enough.

    As he speaks, he moves behind the cash register. He reaches beneath it.

    69 INTERIOR: THE SHELF, CLOSE-UP.

    On it are a .38 and a pair of handcuffs. MIKE takes both.

    70 INTERIOR: ANGLE ON MIKE.

    He puts the handcuffs in one coat pocket and the .38 in the other. This is done quickly and deftly--none of the goggle-eyed customers see. CAT and TESS do, though, and it brings the reality of the situation home to them: crazy as it may be, there could be a dangerous criminal on Little Tall.

    CAT
    Do you want me to call your wives?

MIKE
    Absolutely not.

    Then he looks at the avidly watching islanders. If CAT doesn’t, one of them will, as soon as he or she can reach the nearest phone.

MIKE
    Yeah, I guess you better. But make sure they know the situation is under control. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

    71 EXTERIOR: ANDERSON’S MARKET.

    MIKE and HATCH hurry down the steps, and THE CAMERA TRACKS THEM to the Island Services utility vehicle. The snow is still just flurrying, but we can see that it’s thicker now.

HATCH
    Snow’s early.

    MIKE stops with one hand on the driver’s side doorhandle. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself, then lets it out.

MIKE
    Yeah, it is. Let’s go.

    They get in and drive away. Meantime, people have been drifting out onto the porch, watching them.

    72 EXTERIOR: THE ROBBIE BEALS MANNEQUIN.

    The propeller on the beanie is now turning briskly.

    73 EXTERIOR: THE TOWN DOCK.

    The waves CRASH HIGH against the pilings, throwing spray. The work of securing the boats and getting loose gear undercover has progressed quite a bit. We FOCUS IN on GEORGE KIRBY (an older guy--sixtyish), ALEX HABER (thirty-five), and CAL FREESE (a twenty-something). ALEX
    points west, toward the end of the docks and the reach beyond.

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ALEX HABER
    Looka there, at the mainland.

    74 EXTERIOR: MAINLAND, FROM THE DOCK’S POINT OF VIEW.

    The mainland is about two miles away, and quite clear--gray-green woods, mostly.

    75 EXTERIOR: RESUME DOCK, WITH SONNY, ALEX, AND CAL.

ALEX HABER
    When you can’t