Война миров
In the Storm
Mycousins’manlitbothlamps. Happily,Iknewtheroadintimately. Mywifestoodinthelightofthedoorway,andwatchedmeuntilIjumpedupintothedogcart. Thenabruptlysheturnedandwentin,leavingmycousinssidebysidewishingmegoodhap.
Iwasalittledepressedatfirstwiththecontagionofmywife’sfears,butverysoonmythoughtsrevertedtotheMartians. AtthattimeIwasabsolutelyinthedarkastothecourseoftheevening’sfighting. Ididnotknoweventhecircumstancesthathadprecipitatedtheconflict. AsIcamethroughOckham(forthatwasthewayIreturned,andnotthroughSendandOldWoking)Isawalongthewesternhorizonablood-redglow,whichasIdrewnearer,creptslowlyupthesky. Thedrivingcloudsofthegatheringthunderstormmingledtherewithmassesofblackandredsmoke.
RipleyStreetwasdeserted,andexceptforalightedwindoworsothevillageshowednotasignoflife; butInarrowlyescapedanaccidentatthecorneroftheroadtoPyrford,whereaknotofpeoplestoodwiththeirbackstome. TheysaidnothingtomeasIpassed. Idonotknowwhattheyknewofthethingshappeningbeyondthehill, nordoIknowifthesilenthousesIpassedonmywayweresleepingsecurely,ordesertedandempty,orharassedandwatchingagainsttheterrorofthenight.
FromRipleyuntilIcamethroughPyrfordIwasinthevalleyoftheWey,andtheredglarewashiddenfromme. AsIascendedthelittlehillbeyondPyrfordChurchtheglarecameintoviewagain,andthetreesaboutmeshiveredwiththefirstintimationofthestormthatwasuponme. ThenIheardmidnightpealingoutfromPyrfordChurchbehindme,andthencamethesilhouetteofMayburyHill,withitstree-topsandroofsblackandsharpagainstthered.
