День триффидов
The End begins
ThelastthingIheardwasthatthedisplaywasdiminishingfastnowandthatwe’dprobablybeoutofthedebrisareainafewhours.
Therecouldbenodoubtinmymindthatallthishadtakenplacethepreviousevening-foronething,IshouldhavebeenagreatdealhungriereventhanIwashaditbeenlongerago.Verywell,whatwasthis,then?Hadthewholehospital,thewholecitymadesuchanightofitthatthey’dnotpulledroundyet?
AboutwhichpointIwasinterruptedasthechorusofclocks,nearandfar,startedannouncingnine.
ForthethirdtimeIplayedhellwiththebell.AsIlaywaitingIcouldhearasortofmurmurousnessbeyondthedoor.Itseemedcomposedofwhimperings,slitherings,andshufflings,punctuatedoccasionallybyaraisedvoiceinthedistance.
Butstillnoonecametomyroom.
BythistimeIwasslippingbackoncemore.Thenasty,childishfancieswereonmeagain.Ifoundmyselfwaitingfortheunseeabledoortoopenandhorriblethingstocomepaddingin-infact,Iwasn’tperfectlysurethatsomebodyorsomethingwasn’tinalready,andstealthilyprowlingroundtheroom....
NotthatI’mgiventothatkindofthingreally.-Itwasthosedamnedbandagesovermyeyes,themedleyofvoicesthathadshoutedbackatmedownthecorridor.ButIcertainlywasgettingthewillies-andonceyouget’em,theygrow.Alreadytheywerepastthestagewhereyoucanshoothemoffbywhistlingorsingingatyourself.
