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Q。 If you had no prior knowledge of her whereabouts； how could you go directly to her location？
A。 Oh； you stupid man！ Have you listened to anything that's been said here？ Everybody knew it was Carrie！ Anyone could have found her if they had put their minds to it。
Q。 But not just anyone found her。 You did。 Can you tell us why people did not show up from all over； like iron filings drawn to a magnet？
A。 She was weakening rapidly。 I think that perhaps the 。。。 the zone of her influence was shrinking。
Q。 I think you will agree that that is a relatively uninformed supposition。
A。 Of course it is。 On the subject of Carrie White； we're all relatively uninformed。
Q。 Have it your way； Miss Snell。 Now if we could turn to 。。。
At first； when she climbed up the enbankment between Henry Drain's meadow and the parking lot of The Cavalier； she thought Carrie was dead。 Her figure was halfway across the parking lot； and she looked oddly shrunken and crumpled。 Sue was reminded of dead animals she had seen on 495 … woodchucks； groundhogs； skunks … that had been crushed by speeding trucks and station wagons。
But the presence was still in her mind； vibrating stubbornly； repeating the call letters of Carrie White's personality over and over。 An essence of Carrie； a gestalt。 Muted now； not strident； not announcing itself with a clarion； but waxing and waning in steady oscillations。
Unconscious。
Sue climbed over the guard rail that bordered the parking lot； feeling the heat of the fire against her face。
The Cavalier was a wooden frame building； and it was burning briskly。 The charred remains of a car were limned in flame to the right of the back door。 Carrie had done that。 She did not go to look and see if anyone had been in it。 It didn't matter； not now。
She walked over to where Carrie lay on her side； unable to hear her own footsteps under the hungry crackle of the fire。 She looked down at the curled…up figure with a bemused and bitter pity。 The knife hilt protruded cruelly from her shoulder； and she was lying in a small pool of blood … some of it was trickling from her mouth。 She looked as if she had been trying to turn herself over when unconsciousness had taken her。 Able to start fires； pull down electric cables； able to kill almost by thought alone； lying here unable to turn herself over。
Sue knelt； took her by one arm and the unhurt shoulder； and gently turned her on to her back。
Carrie moaned thickly； and her eyes fluttered。 The perception of her in Sue's mind sharpened； as if a mental picture was ing into focus。
（who's there）
And Sue； without thought； spoke in the same fashion：
（me sue snell）
Only there was no need to think of her name。 The thought of herself as herself was neither words nor pictures。 The realization suddenly brought everything up close； made it real； and passion for Carrie broke through the dullness of her shock。
And Carrie with faraway； dumb reproach：
（you tricked me you all tricked me）
（carrie i don't even know what happened is tommy）
（you tricked me that happened trick trick trick o dirty trick）
The mixture of image and emotion was staggering； indescribable。 Blood。 Sadness。 Fear。 The latest dirty trick in a long series of dirty tricks： they flashed by in a dizzying shuffle that made Sue's mind reel helplessly； hopelessly。 They shared the awful totality of perfect knowledge。
（carrie don't don't don't hurts me）
Now girls throwing sanitary napkins； chanting； laughing； Sue's face mirrored in her own mind： ugly； caricatured all mouth； cruelly beautiful。
（see the dirty tricks see my whole life one long dirty trick）
（look carrie look inside me）
And Carrie looked。
The sensation was terrifying。 Her mind and nervous system had bee a library。 Someone in desperate need ran through her； fingers trailing lightly over shelves of books； lifting some out； scanning them； putting them back； letting some fall； leaving the pages to flutter wildly
（glimpses that's me as a kid hate him daddy o mommy wide lips o teeth bobby pushed me o my knee car want to ride in the car we're going to see aunt cecily mommy e quick i made pee）
in the wind of memory； and still on and on； finally reaching a shelf marked TOMMY； subheaded PROM。 Books thrown open； flashes of experience； marginal notations in all the hiergglyphs of emotion； more plex than the Rosetta Stone。
Looking。 Finding more than Sue herself had suspected…love for Tommy； jealousy； selfishness； a need to subjugate him to her will on the matter of taking Carrie； disgust for Carrie herself；
（she could take better care of herself she does look just like a GODDAM TOAD）
hate for Miss Desjardin； hate for herself。
But no ill will for Carrie personally； no plan to get her in front of everyone and undo her。
The feverish feeling of being raped in her most secret corridors began to fade。 She felt Carrie puffing back； weak and exhausted。
（why didn't you just leave me alone）
（carrie i）
（momma would be alive i killed my momma i want her o it hurts my chest my shoulder o o o i want my momma）
（carrie i）
And there was no way to finish that thought； nothing there to plete it with。 Sue was suddenly overwhelmed with terror； the worse because she could put no name to it： The bleeding freak on this oil…stained asphalt suddenly seemed meaningless and awful in its pain and dying。
（o momma i'm scared momma MOMMA）
Sue tried to pull away； to disengage her mind； to allow Carrie at least the privacy of her dying； and was unable to。 She felt that she was dying herself and did not want to see this preview of her own eventual end。
（carrie let me GO）
（Momma Momma Momma oooooooooooo 0000000）
The mental scream reached a flaring； unbelievable crescendo and then suddenly faded。 For a moment Sue felt as if she were watching a candle flame disappear down a long； black tunnel at a tremendous speed。
（she's dying o my god i'm feeling her die）
And then the fight was gone； and the last conscious thought had been
（momma i'm sorry where）
and it broke up and Sue was tuned in only on the blank； idiot frequency of the physical nerve endings that would take hours to die。
She stumbled away from it； holding her arms out in front of her like a blind woman； toward the edge of the parking lot。 She tripped over the knee…high guard rail and tumbled down the embankment。 She got to her feet and stumbled into the field； which was filling with mystic white pockets of ground mist。 Crickets chirruped mindlessly and a whippoorwill
（whippoorwill somebody's dying）
called in the great stillness of morning。
She began to run； breathing deep in her chest； running from Tommy； from the fires and explosions； from Carrie； but mostly from the final horror…that last lighted thought carried swiftly down into the black tunnel of eternity； followed by the blank； idiot hum of prosaic electricity。
The after…image began to fade reluctantly； leaving a blessed； cooling darkness in her mind that knew nothing。 She slowed； halted； and became aware that something had begun to happen。 She stood in the middle of the great and misty field。 waiting for realization。
Her rapid breathing slowed； slowed； caught suddenly as if on a thorn
And suddenly vented itself in one howling； cheated scream。
As she felt the slow course of dark menstrual blood down her thighs。
Part Three
Wreckage
From the national AP ticker； Friday； June 5； 1979：
CHAMBERLAIN； MAINE （AP）
STATE OFFICIALS SAY THAT THE DEATH TOLL IN CHAMBERLAIN STANDS AT 409； WITH 49 STILL LISTED AS MISSING。 INVESTIGATION CONCERNING CARIETTA WHITE AND THE SO…CALLED 'TK' PHENOMENA CONTINUES AMID PERSISTENT RUMOURS THAT AN AUTOPSY ON THE WHITE GIRL HAS UNCOVERED CERTAIN UNUSUAL FORMATIONS IN THE CEREBRUM AND CEREBELLUM OF THE BRAIN。 THIS STATES GOVERNOR HAS APPOINTED A BLUE…RIBBON MITTEE TO STUDY THE ENTIRE TRAGEDY。 ENDS。 FINAL JUNE 5 030 N AP
From The Lewiston Daily Sun； Sunday； September 7 （p。 3）：
The Legacy of TK
Scorched Earth and Scorched Hearts
CHAMBERLAIN … Prom Night is history now。 Pundits have been saying for centuries that time heals all wounds； but the hurt of this small Western Maine town may be mortal。 The residential streets are still there on the town's East Side； guarded by graceful Oaks that have stood for two hundred years； the trim saltboxes and ranch styles on Morin Street and Brickyard Hill are still neat and undamaged。 But this New England pastoral lies on the rim of a blackened and shattered hub； and many of the neat houses have FOR SALE signs on their front lawns。 Those still occupied are marked by black wreaths on front doors。 Bright…yellow Allied vans and orange U…Hauls of varying sizes are a mon sight on Chamberlain's streets these days。
The town's major industry； Chamberlain Mills and Weaving； still stands； untouched by the fire that raged over much of the town on those two days in May。 But it has only been running one shift since July 4th； and according to mill president William A。 Chamblis； further lay…offs are a strong possibility。 'We have the orders；' Chamblis said； 'but you can't run a mill without people to punch the time clock。 We don't have them。 I've gotten notice from thirty…four men since August 15th。 The only thing we can see to do now is close up the dye house and job our work out。 We'd hate to let the men go； but this thing is getting down to a matter of financial survival。'
Roger Fearon has lived in Chamberlain for twenty…two years； and has been with the mill for eighteen of those years。 He has risen during that time from a third…floor bagger making seventy…three cents an hour to dye…house foreman； yet he seems strangely unmoved by the possibility of losing his job。 'I'd lose a damned good wage；' Fearon said。 'It's not something you take lightly。 The wife and I have talked it over。 We could sell the house … it's worth 20；000 easy … and although we probably won't realize half of that； we'll probably go ahead and put it up。 Doesn't matter。 We don't really want to five in Chamberlain any more。 Call it what you want but Chamberlain has gone bad for us。'
Fearon is not alone。 Henry Kelly； proprietor of a tobacco shop and soda fountain called the Kelly Fruit until Prom Night levelled it； has no plans to rebuild。 'The kids are gone；' he shrugs。 'If I opened up again； there'd be too many ghosts in too many corners。 I'm going to take the insurance money and retire to St Petersburg。'
A week after the tornado of '54 had cut its path of death and destruction through Worcester； the air was filled with the sound of hammers； the smell of new timber； and a feeling of optimism and human resilience。 There is none of that in Chamberlain this fall。 The main road has been cleared of rubble and that is about the extent of it。 The faces that you meet are full of dull hopelessness。 Men drink beer without talking in Frank's Bar on the corner of Sullivan Street； and women exchange tales of grief and loss in back yards。 Chamberlain has been declared a disaster area； and money is available to help put the town back on its feet and begin rebuilding the business district。
But the main business of Chamberlain in the last four months has been funerals。
Four hundred and forty are now known dead； eighteen more still unaccounted for。 And sixty…seven of the dead were Ewen High School Seniors on the verge of graduation。 It is this； perhaps； more than anything else； that has taken the guts out of Chamberlain。
They were buried on June 1 and 2 in three mass ceremonies。 A memorial service was held on June 3 in the town square。 It was the most moving ceremony that this reporter has ever witnessed。 Attendance was in the thousands； and the entire assemblage was still as the school band； stripped from fifty…six to a bare forty； played the school song and taps。
There was a sombre graduation ceremony the following week at neighbouring Motton Academy； but there were only fifty…two Seniors left to graduate。 The valedictorian； Henry Stampel； broke into tears halfway through his speech and could not continue。 There were no Graduation Night parties following the ceremony； the Seniors merely took their diplomas and went home。
And still； as the summer progressed； the hearses continued to roll as more bodies were discovered。 To some residents it seemed that each day the scab was ripped 69 again； so that the wound could bleed afresh。
If you are one of the many curiosity…seekers who have been through Cha