have to. Come on, let’s look.
They start out of the room, URSULA leading.
52 INTERIOR: ROBBIE BEALS, CLOSE-UP.
His face is HORRIFIED, UNBELIEVING.
ROBBIE
Oh, my God.
WEATHER LADY (voice-over)
So enough doom and gloom, already! Let’s talk SUNSHINE!
THE CAMERA PULLS BACK and we see he is kneeling beside MARTHA in her hall, performing the useless ritual of trying to take her pulse. We can see her wrist and the bloodstained cuff of her dress, but that’s all. ROBBIE looks around, unbelieving.
In the background, the WEATHER LADY is spieling on. LINOGE broke the TV, but she’s there, just the same.
WEATHER LADY (voice-over)
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
The finest weather in the U.S. today? Well, there’s no question about that; the Big Island of Hawaii!
Temperatures in the high seventies to low eighties, plus an onshore breeze to cool things off. And things ain’t too shabby in Florida, either. Last week’s chill there is a thing of the past. In Miami temperatures are in the mid-seventies, and how about Sanibel Island and beautiful Captiva? If you’re down that way, you’ll be picking up shells with plenty of sunshine to show you the way and temps in the high eighties.
ROBBIE
Is anybody here?
He gets to his feet. He looks first at the walls, where some of MARTHA’S nice old pictures are now dotted with a fine spray of blood. Then he looks at the floor and sees more blood: the thin line drawn by LINOGE’S cane and those big, dark smacks that were left by DAVEY’S bouncing ball.
ROBBIE
Is anybody here?
He pauses, undecided, then starts down the hall.
53 BLACK.
A BANK OF OVERHEAD FLUORESCENTS SNAPS ON, revealing the spacious basement room of the town hall. This room is ordinarily used for dances, Bingo, and various town functions. Signs on the pine-paneled walls remind visitors of the volunteer fire department blood drive, which will be held right here. Now the room is filled with cots, each with a small pillow at its head and a folded blanket at its foot. At the far end are stacks of coolers, cartons of bottled water, and a big radio with its digital readout flashing.
URSULA and MIKE stand looking at this.
URSULA
Good?
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
MIKE
You know it is.
(she smiles)
How’s the supply closet?
URSULA
Full, just like you wanted. Concentrates, mostly--pour the water over the powder and then gag it down--but nobody’ll starve.
MIKE
You did all this yourself?
URSULA
Me and Pete’s sister, Tavia. Be discreet, you said. Don’t panic anyone.
MIKE
Ayuh, that’s what I said. How many people know we’re stocked for World War III?
URSULA
(perfectly serene)
Everyone.
MIKE winces but doesn’t look too surprised.
MIKE
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
No secrets on the island.
URSULA
(a bit defensive)
I didn’t talk, Mike Anderson, and neither did Tavia. Mostly it was Robbie Beals who spread the tattle. Madder than a wet hen about all this, he is. Claims you’re costing the town money for no reason.
MIKE
Well . . . we’ll see. (pause) Tell you one thing, his kid makes a hell of a good monkey.
URSULA
What?
MIKE
Never mind.
URSULA
Want to look in the storage?
MIKE
I think I’ll trust you. Let’s go back up.
She reaches for the switch, then pauses. Her face is troubled.
URSULA
How serious is this, Mike?
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
MIKE
I don’t know. I hope Robbie Deals can kick my ass for being an alarmist, come town meeting next month. Come on. Let’s go
URSULA flicks the switch and the room GOES BLACK.
54 INTERIOR: MARTHA CLARENDON’S LIVING ROOM.
We’re looking toward the hall door. The TV is louder. It’s an ad for a litigation law firm. Have you been injured in an accident? Can’t work? Lost your mind?
TV ANNOUNCER
They start out of the room, URSULA leading.
52 INTERIOR: ROBBIE BEALS, CLOSE-UP.
His face is HORRIFIED, UNBELIEVING.
ROBBIE
Oh, my God.
WEATHER LADY (voice-over)
So enough doom and gloom, already! Let’s talk SUNSHINE!
THE CAMERA PULLS BACK and we see he is kneeling beside MARTHA in her hall, performing the useless ritual of trying to take her pulse. We can see her wrist and the bloodstained cuff of her dress, but that’s all. ROBBIE looks around, unbelieving.
In the background, the WEATHER LADY is spieling on. LINOGE broke the TV, but she’s there, just the same.
WEATHER LADY (voice-over)
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
The finest weather in the U.S. today? Well, there’s no question about that; the Big Island of Hawaii!
Temperatures in the high seventies to low eighties, plus an onshore breeze to cool things off. And things ain’t too shabby in Florida, either. Last week’s chill there is a thing of the past. In Miami temperatures are in the mid-seventies, and how about Sanibel Island and beautiful Captiva? If you’re down that way, you’ll be picking up shells with plenty of sunshine to show you the way and temps in the high eighties.
ROBBIE
Is anybody here?
He gets to his feet. He looks first at the walls, where some of MARTHA’S nice old pictures are now dotted with a fine spray of blood. Then he looks at the floor and sees more blood: the thin line drawn by LINOGE’S cane and those big, dark smacks that were left by DAVEY’S bouncing ball.
ROBBIE
Is anybody here?
He pauses, undecided, then starts down the hall.
53 BLACK.
A BANK OF OVERHEAD FLUORESCENTS SNAPS ON, revealing the spacious basement room of the town hall. This room is ordinarily used for dances, Bingo, and various town functions. Signs on the pine-paneled walls remind visitors of the volunteer fire department blood drive, which will be held right here. Now the room is filled with cots, each with a small pillow at its head and a folded blanket at its foot. At the far end are stacks of coolers, cartons of bottled water, and a big radio with its digital readout flashing.
URSULA and MIKE stand looking at this.
URSULA
Good?
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
MIKE
You know it is.
(she smiles)
How’s the supply closet?
URSULA
Full, just like you wanted. Concentrates, mostly--pour the water over the powder and then gag it down--but nobody’ll starve.
MIKE
You did all this yourself?
URSULA
Me and Pete’s sister, Tavia. Be discreet, you said. Don’t panic anyone.
MIKE
Ayuh, that’s what I said. How many people know we’re stocked for World War III?
URSULA
(perfectly serene)
Everyone.
MIKE winces but doesn’t look too surprised.
MIKE
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
No secrets on the island.
URSULA
(a bit defensive)
I didn’t talk, Mike Anderson, and neither did Tavia. Mostly it was Robbie Beals who spread the tattle. Madder than a wet hen about all this, he is. Claims you’re costing the town money for no reason.
MIKE
Well . . . we’ll see. (pause) Tell you one thing, his kid makes a hell of a good monkey.
URSULA
What?
MIKE
Never mind.
URSULA
Want to look in the storage?
MIKE
I think I’ll trust you. Let’s go back up.
She reaches for the switch, then pauses. Her face is troubled.
URSULA
How serious is this, Mike?
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
MIKE
I don’t know. I hope Robbie Deals can kick my ass for being an alarmist, come town meeting next month. Come on. Let’s go
URSULA flicks the switch and the room GOES BLACK.
54 INTERIOR: MARTHA CLARENDON’S LIVING ROOM.
We’re looking toward the hall door. The TV is louder. It’s an ad for a litigation law firm. Have you been injured in an accident? Can’t work? Lost your mind?
TV ANNOUNCER
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