Free Storm of the Century by Stephen King Page A
Authors: Stephen King
see over there no more, it’s time to get in while you can. And when you can’t even see the reach no more, it’s time to head down to the town hall, whether you’ve heard the siren or not.
CAL FREESE
(to GEORGE)
How bad do you think it’ll be, Unc?
GEORGE KIRBY
Maybe the worst we ever saw. Come on, help me with the last of these nets. (pause) I wonder if that fool Beals has any slight idear what he’s doin up there?
76 EXTERIOR: ATLANTIC STREET, IN FRONT OF MARTHA’S HOUSE.
The fool BEALS is still being the good sentry, standing in front of his Lincoln with his .38 pointed at the open door of the CLARENDON house. Snow is coming down more thickly now; it’s scattered across the shoulders of his topcoat like dandruff. He’s been here for a while.
Down below, a little gathering of WATCHERS (MRS. KINGSBURY and DAVEY HOPEWELL are Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
back among them) moves aside to allow the Island Services vehicle through. It pulls up beside the Lincoln. MIKE gets out from behind the wheel, HATCH from the passenger seat.
HATCH
You want the shotgun?
MIKE
I guess we better have it. You just make sure the safety’s on, Alton Hatcher.
HATCH leans back into the truck, fumbles, and reappears with the shotgun that is ordinarily kept latched under the dash. HATCH ostentatiously checks the safety, and then they approach ROBBIE. ROBBIE’S attitude toward MIKE all through this is one of confrontation and contempt. The history of these feelings will never be fully explored, but its basis is undoubtedly ROBBIE’S desire to keep all the reins of power in his own hands.
ROBBIE
It’s about time.
MIKE
Put that thing away, Robbie.
ROBBIE
No such thing, Constable Anderson. You do your job, I’ll do mine.
MIKE
Your job is real estate. Would you at least lower it, please? (pause) Come on, Robbie--it’s in my face, and I know it’s loaded.
ROBBIE grudgingly lowers the .38. HATCH, meanwhile, is looking nervously at the open door and the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
overturned walker.
MIKE
What happened?
ROBBIE
I was driving over to the town office when I saw Davey Hopewell running down the middle of the street. (points toward DAVEY)
He said Martha Clarendon was dead--murdered. I didn’t believe him, but it’s true. She’s . . . awful.
MIKE
You said the person who did it was still inside.
ROBBIE
He spoke to me.
HATCH
And said what?
ROBBIE
(nervous, lying)
Told me to get out. I think he said for me to get out or he’d kill me, too. I don’t know. And this hardly seems like the right time for an interrogation.
MIKE
What did he look like?
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
ROBBIE starts to reply, then stops, puzzled.
ROBBIE
I ... I barely got a look at him.
He got a pretty good one, actually . . . but he doesn’t remember.
MIKE
(to HATCH)
Stay on my right. Keep the barrel of that scattergun pointed down, and keep the safety on unless I tell you to take it off.
(to ROBBIE)
You stay exactly where you are, please.
ROBBIE
You’re the constable.
He watches MIKE and HATCH start for the gate, then calls.
ROBBIE
The TV’s on. Tuned quite loud. If the guy starts moving around, I’m not sure you’ll hear him.
MIKE nods, then goes through the gate with HATCH on his right. The TOWNSPEOPLE have crept closer yet; we now see them in the background. The SNOW SWIRLS around them in the HIGH
WIND. It’s still light, but thickening up.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
77 EXTERIOR: MIKE AND HATCH, FROM THE PORCH.
They come up the walk, MIKE tuned tightly (but in control), HATCH scared but trying not to show it.
HATCH
Even if there was a guy, he’s probably gone out the back by now, don’t you think? She ain’t got but a five-foot garden fence-MIKE shakes his head to indicate he
CAL FREESE
(to GEORGE)
How bad do you think it’ll be, Unc?
GEORGE KIRBY
Maybe the worst we ever saw. Come on, help me with the last of these nets. (pause) I wonder if that fool Beals has any slight idear what he’s doin up there?
76 EXTERIOR: ATLANTIC STREET, IN FRONT OF MARTHA’S HOUSE.
The fool BEALS is still being the good sentry, standing in front of his Lincoln with his .38 pointed at the open door of the CLARENDON house. Snow is coming down more thickly now; it’s scattered across the shoulders of his topcoat like dandruff. He’s been here for a while.
Down below, a little gathering of WATCHERS (MRS. KINGSBURY and DAVEY HOPEWELL are Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
back among them) moves aside to allow the Island Services vehicle through. It pulls up beside the Lincoln. MIKE gets out from behind the wheel, HATCH from the passenger seat.
HATCH
You want the shotgun?
MIKE
I guess we better have it. You just make sure the safety’s on, Alton Hatcher.
HATCH leans back into the truck, fumbles, and reappears with the shotgun that is ordinarily kept latched under the dash. HATCH ostentatiously checks the safety, and then they approach ROBBIE. ROBBIE’S attitude toward MIKE all through this is one of confrontation and contempt. The history of these feelings will never be fully explored, but its basis is undoubtedly ROBBIE’S desire to keep all the reins of power in his own hands.
ROBBIE
It’s about time.
MIKE
Put that thing away, Robbie.
ROBBIE
No such thing, Constable Anderson. You do your job, I’ll do mine.
MIKE
Your job is real estate. Would you at least lower it, please? (pause) Come on, Robbie--it’s in my face, and I know it’s loaded.
ROBBIE grudgingly lowers the .38. HATCH, meanwhile, is looking nervously at the open door and the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
overturned walker.
MIKE
What happened?
ROBBIE
I was driving over to the town office when I saw Davey Hopewell running down the middle of the street. (points toward DAVEY)
He said Martha Clarendon was dead--murdered. I didn’t believe him, but it’s true. She’s . . . awful.
MIKE
You said the person who did it was still inside.
ROBBIE
He spoke to me.
HATCH
And said what?
ROBBIE
(nervous, lying)
Told me to get out. I think he said for me to get out or he’d kill me, too. I don’t know. And this hardly seems like the right time for an interrogation.
MIKE
What did he look like?
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
ROBBIE starts to reply, then stops, puzzled.
ROBBIE
I ... I barely got a look at him.
He got a pretty good one, actually . . . but he doesn’t remember.
MIKE
(to HATCH)
Stay on my right. Keep the barrel of that scattergun pointed down, and keep the safety on unless I tell you to take it off.
(to ROBBIE)
You stay exactly where you are, please.
ROBBIE
You’re the constable.
He watches MIKE and HATCH start for the gate, then calls.
ROBBIE
The TV’s on. Tuned quite loud. If the guy starts moving around, I’m not sure you’ll hear him.
MIKE nods, then goes through the gate with HATCH on his right. The TOWNSPEOPLE have crept closer yet; we now see them in the background. The SNOW SWIRLS around them in the HIGH
WIND. It’s still light, but thickening up.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
77 EXTERIOR: MIKE AND HATCH, FROM THE PORCH.
They come up the walk, MIKE tuned tightly (but in control), HATCH scared but trying not to show it.
HATCH
Even if there was a guy, he’s probably gone out the back by now, don’t you think? She ain’t got but a five-foot garden fence-MIKE shakes his head to indicate he
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