an I feed her, Missus Anderson? I fed a monkey once, at the Bangor Fair.

The other kids laugh. PIPPA is not amused.

PIPPA I'm not a monkey, Harry! I'm a child, not a monkey!

DON SEALS

Look, you guys, I'm a monkey!

He starts leaping around at the foot of the stairs, scratching under his armpits and being foolish as only a four-year-old can be. At once, the others start imitating him.

PIPPA I am not a monkey!

And begins to cry. MOLLY strokes her hair, but can't talk her out of this one. Getting your head stuck between the bars is bad; being called a monkey is even worse.

MOLLY

You kids, stop that! Stop it right now! It's not nice, and it's making Pippa sad!

Most of them stop, but DON BEALS, a little booger of the purest ray serene, goes on prancing and scratching.

MOLLY Don, you stop. It's mean.

RALPHIE Momma says it's mean.

He tries to grab hold of DON. DON shakes him off.

DON BEALS I'm bein' a monkey!

DON does the monkey thing twice as hard, just to spite RALPHIE . . . and RALPHIE'S mother, of course. The hall door opens. MIKE and HATCH come in. HATCH sees the problem at once and reacts with a mixture of fright and relief.

PIPPA

Daddee!

She starts yanking backward again, trying to free herself.

HATCH

Pippa! Hold still! You want to yank your ears right off your head?

RALPHIE

(runs to MIKE)

Daddy! Pippa got her head stuck and Don won't stop being a monkey!

RALPHIE leaps into his father's arms. HATCH climbs to where his daughter has been caught by the incredible girl-eating stairs and kneels by her. MOLLY looks over her back at her husband and sends a message with her eyes: "Please fix this!"

A CUTE LITTLE BLONDE GIRL with pigtails pulls at the pocket of MIKE'S white butcher's pants. She is wearing most of her own strawberry jam treat on the front of her shirt.

SALLY GODSOE

Mr. Anderson? I stopped being a monkey. As soon as she said.

SALLY points to MOLLY. MIKE gently disengages her. SALLY, another four-year-old, promptly pops her thumb into her mouth.

MIKE That's good, Sally. Ralphie, got to put you down now.

He puts RALPHIE down. DON BEALS promptly pushes him.

RALPHIE

Ow, hey! Why'd you do that?

DON BEALS

For acting smart!

It comes out "sma'aat." MIKE picks DON BEALS up and raises him to eye level. DON isn't afraid a bit, the little craphead.

DON BEALS

I ain't afraid of you! My dad's town manager! He pays your salary!

He sticks out his tongue and BLOWS A RASPBERRY right in MIKE'S face. MIKE isn't the slightest put out of countenance.

MIKE

Pushers get pushed, Donnie Beals. You want to remember that, because it's a true fact of this sad life. Pushers get pushed.

DON doesn't understand, but reacts to the tone. He'll get up to more dickens eventually, but he's been put in his place for the time being. MIKE puts DON down and goes to the side of the stairs. Behind him we see a half-open door marked WEE FOLKS. In the room beyond the door

are little tables and chairs. Happy, colorful mobiles hang from the ceiling. It's the classroom of MOLLY'S day-care center.

HATCH is pushing at the top of his daughter's head. This isn't accomplishing anything, and she's consequently growing panicky again, thinking she'll be stuck forever.

HATCH

Honey, why did you do this?

PIPPA

Heidi St. Pierre dared me.

MIKE puts his hands over HATCH'S and moves HATCH aside. HATCH looks at MIKE hopefully.

31 INTERIOR: THE CHILDREN AT THE FOOT OF THE STAIRS.

HEIDI ST. PIERRE, the five-year-old daughter of LINDA ST. PIERRE, is a carrottop wearing thick glasses.

HEIDI Did not.

PIPPA

Did so!

HEIDI ST. PIERRE

Liar, liar, pants on fire!

MOLLY

Stop it, both of you.

PIPPA (to MIKE)

It was easy going out, but now I can't get back in. I think my head must be bigger on this side.

MIKE It is ... but I'm going to make it smaller. Do you know how?

PIPPA

(fascinated) No . . . how?

MIKE

I'm just going to push the smaller button. And when I do, your head will get smaller and you'll slide right back where you were. Just as easy as you slid in. Do you understand, Pippa?

He speaks in slow, soothing tones. He's engaged in something that's almost hypnosis.

HATCH What kind of

MOLLY Shhh!

MIKE Are you ready for me to push the button?

PIPPA Yes.

MIKE reaches up and pushes the end of her nose with the tip of his finger.

MIKE

Beep! There it goes! Smaller! Quick, Pippa, before it gets big again!

PIPPA pulls her head out easily from between the posts. The kids clap and cheer. DON BEALS hops around like a monkey. One of the other boys, FRANK BRIGHT, hops around a little, too, then sees RALPHIE giving him a disgusted look and quits it.

HATCH gathers his daughter in for a hug. PIPPA hugs back, but eats her bread and jam at the same time. She stopped being scared when MIKE started talking to her. MOLLY smiles at MIKE gratefully and puts her hand through the stairwell posts where PIPPA was stuck. MIKE takes it on his side and kisses each finger extravagantly. The

KIDS GIGGLE. One of them, BUSTER CARVER (BUSTER, the last of MOLLY'S day-care pupils, is about five), puts his hands over his eyes.

BUSTER

(moaning) Finger-kissin'! Oh, no!

MOLLY laughs and pulls her hand back.

MOLLY Thank you. Really.

HATCH

Yeah thanks, boss.

MIKE

No problem.

PIPPA

Dad, is my head still little? I felt it get little when Mr. Anderson said. Is it still little?

HATCH No, honey, just the right size.

MIKE walks to the foot of the stairs. MOLLY meets him. RALPHIE is there, too; MIKE picks him up and kisses the red mark on the bridge of the little boy's nose. MOLLY kisses MIKE'S cheek.

MOLLY

I'm sorry if I pulled you away at a bad time. I saw her head that way and when I couldn't get it to come out on my own, I just. . . freaked.

MIKE It's okay. I needed a break, anyway.

MOLLY

Is it bad down at the store?

HATCH

Bad enough. You know how it is when there's a storm

coming . . . and this is no ordinary storm. (to PIPPA) Got to go back, sweet girl. You be good.

DON BLOWS ANOTHER RASPBERRY.

MIKE (low) Gee, I love Robbie's kid.

MOLLY says nothing, but rolls her eyes in agreement.

MIKE What do you say, Hatch?

HATCH

Let's roll while we still can. If they're right, we're all apt to be cooped up for the next three days. (pause) Like Pippa, with her head caught in the stairs.

None of them laugh. There's too much truth in what he says.

32 EXTERIOR: THE ANDERSON HOUSE ON LOWER MAIN STREET DAY.

The Island Services four-wheel drive is parked at the curb. In the foreground, by the walk, is a sign reading WEE FOLKS DAY-CARE CENTER. It's on a chain, and swinging back and forth in the wind. The sky overhead is grayer than ever. The ocean, visible here in the background, is full of gray chop.

The door opens. MIKE and HATCH come out, pulling down their hats to keep the wind from tearing them off, raising the collars of their jackets. As they approach the car, MIKE stops and looks up at the sky. It's coming, all right. A big one. MIKE'S anxious face says he knows that. Or thinks he does. No one knows how big this baby is going to be.

He gets into the car behind the wheel, waving to MOLLY, who stands on the porch with her sweater over her shoulders. HATCH waves, too. She waves back. The four-wheel drive pulls around in a U-turn, headed back to the market.

33 INTERIOR: THE ISLAND SERVICES VEHICLE, WITH MIKE AND HATCH.

HATCH

(quite amused) The "smaller button," huh?

MIKE

Everyone's got one. You gonna tell Melinda?

HATCH

No . . . but Pippa will. Did you notice, through the whole thing, she never lost sight of her bread.

The two men look at each other and grin.

34 EXTERIOR: ATLANTIC STREET DAY.

Coming up the center of the street, oblivious of the impending storm and rising wind, is a boy of about fourteen DAVEY HOPEWELL. He's dressed in a heavy coat and gloves with the fingers cut off. This makes it easier to handle a basketball. He weaves from side to side, dribbling and talking to himself. Doing play-by-play, in fact.

DAVEY

Davey Hopewell in transition ... he avoids the press . . . Stockton tries to steal the ball, but he doesn't have a chance . . . It's Davey Hopewell at the top of the key . . . clock running out . . . Davey Hopewell's the Celtics' only hope ... he shakes and bakes ... he

DAVEY HOPEWELL stops. Holds the ball and looks at:

35 EXTERIOR: MARTHA CLARENDON'S HOUSE, FROM DAVEY'S POINT OF VIEW.

The door is open in spite of the cold, and the overturned walker is lying by the porch steps, where LINOGE threw it.

36 EXTERIOR: RESUME DAVEY.

He tucks his basketball under his arm and goes slowly to MARTHA'S gate. He stands there for a moment, then sees something black on the white paint. There are CHAR MARKS where LINOGE tapped his cane. DAVEY touches one with a couple of bare fingers (cutoff gloves, remember) and then snatches them away.

DAVEY Owww!

Still hot, those marks. But he loses interest in them as he looks at the overturned walker and the open door that door shouldn't be open, not in this weather. He starts up the path; climbs the steps. He bends, moves the walker aside.

WEATHER LADY (voice)

What part does global warming play in such storms? The fact is, we just don't know . . .

DAVEY (calls) Mrs. Clarendon? You all right?

37 INTERIOR: MARTHA'S LIVING ROOM, WITH LINOGE.

The weather is still playing. The storm graphics have moved closer toward their eventual point of impact. LINOGE sits in MARTHA'S chair, with his bloody cane drawn across his lap. His eyes are closed. His face has that look of meditation.

WEATHER LADY

One thing we do know is that the jet stream has taken on a pattern which is very typical for this time of year, although the upper flow is even stronger than usual, helping to account for the terrific strength of this western storm.

DAVEY (off-screen)

(calls)

Mrs. Clarendon? It's Davey! Davey Hopewell! Are you all right?

LINOGE opens his eyes. Once again they are BLACK . . . but now the black is shot through with TWISTS OF RED . . . like FIRE. HE GRINS, showing those AWFUL TEETH. We hold on this, then:

FADE OUT. THIS ENDS ACT 1.

Act 2

38 EXTERIOR: THE PORCH OF MARTHA'S HOUSE DAY.

We are looking out through the open door at DAVEY HOPEWELL, who is approaching the door slowly and with growing unease. He's still got his basketball under his arm.

DAVEY

Mrs. Clarendon? Mrs.

WEATHER LADY (voice-over)

Large windows should be taped to improve their integrity in the face of strong wind gusts.

He stops suddenly, his eyes widening, as he sees:

39 INTERIOR: THE HALLWAY, FROM DAVEY'S POINT OF VIEW.

Sticking out of the shadows are two old-lady shoes, and the hem of an old-lady dress.

WEATHER LADY (voice-over) Gusts in this storm may range into . . .

40 EXTERIOR: THE PORCH, WITH DAVEY.

His fears temporarily forgotten he thinks he knows the worst, that she's fainted, or had a stroke, or something DAVEY drops to one knee and leans forward to examine her . . . then FREEZES. His basketball slips out from under his arm and rolls across the porch as his eyes fill up with horror. We don't need to see. We know.

WEATHER LADY (voice-over)

. . . speeds we normally associate with hurricanes. Check the dampers on stoves and fireplace chimneys! This is very important . . .

DAVEY pulls in breath, and at first can't get it out. We see him struggle. He is trying to scream. He touches one of MARTHA'S shoes and makes a little wheezing noise.

LINOGE (voice)

Forget the NBA, Davey you'll never even play first string in high school. You're slow, and you couldn't throw it in the ocean.

DAVEY looks down the shadowy hall, realizing that MARTHA'S killer is likely still in MARTHA'S house. His paralysis breaks. He lets out a SHRIEK, bolts to his feet, turns, and pelts down the steps. He stumbles on the last one and sprawls on the walk.

LINOGE (voice)

(calling)

Also, you're short. You're a dwarf. Why don't you come on in here, Davey? I'll do you a favor. Save you a lot of grief.

DAVEY scrambles to his feet and flees, flinging terrified glances back over his shoulder as he buttonhooks out of the CLARENDON gate, across the sidewalk, and into the street. He pelts down Atlantic toward the docks.

DAVEY

(screaming)

Help! Missus Clarendon's dead! Someone's killed her! Blood! Help! Oh, God, somebody help!

41 INTERIOR: MARTHA'S LIVING ROOM, WITH LINOGE.

His eyes are back to normal ... if you can call that cool, unsettling blue normal. He raises one hand, and makes a beckoning gesture with his index finger.

WEATHER LADY

The best way to sum up what we're saying to you is "prepare for the worst, because this is going to be a bad one."

42 EXTERIOR: MARTHA'S FRONT PORCH.

Faintly, we can still hear DAVEY HOPEWELL bawling for help. His basketball, which came to rest against the porch rail, rolls across the

boards slowly at first, then gathering speed to the front door. It bounces up over the doorstoop and inside.

43 INTERIOR: MARTHA'S HALL, LOOKING BACK TOWARD THE PORCH.

In the background is MARTHA'S body, just a dark lump of shadow. DAVEY'S basketball bounces past it, leaving great big smacks of blood every time in lands.

WEATHER LADY

Another piece of advice? Make sure you've got plenty of Smile-Boy all-beef bologna on hand. When the weather turns nasty, nothing warms you up ...