День триффидов
Frustration
Weleftitatthat.
Allwentaway,leavingmetomycogitationsandapacketofhiscigarettes.Isurveyedtheoutlookandthoughtlittleofit.Iwonderedhowtheotherswouldbetakingit.ParticularlywhatwouldbeJosella’sview,WhenAlfreappearedwithmorefoodandtheinevitablecanoftea,hewasaccompaniedbythemanhehadcalledCoker.HelookedmoretirednowthanwhenIhadseenhimbefore.Underhisarmhecarriedabundleofpapers.Hegavemeasearchinglook.
"Youknowtheidea?"heasked.
"WhatAll’stoldme,"Iadmitted.
"Allright,then."Hedroppedhispapersonthebed,pickedupthetoponeandunfoldedit.ItwasastreetplanofGreaterLondon.HepointedtoanareacoveringpartofHampsteadandSwissCottage,heavilyoutlinedinbluepencil.
"That’syourbeat,"hesaid."Yourpartyworksinsidethatarea,andnotinanyoneelse’sarea.Youcan’thaveeachlotgoingafterthesamepickings.Yourjobistofindthefoodinthatareaandseethatyourpartygetsit—that,andanythingelsetheyneed.Gotthat?"
"Orwhat?"Isaid,lookingathim.
"Orthey’llgethungry.Andiftheydo,it’llbejusttoobadforyou.Someoftheboysaretough,andwe’renotanyofusdoingthisforfun,Sowatchyourstep.Tomorrowmorningwe’llrunyouandyourlotupthereintrucks.Afterthatit’llbeyourjobtokeep‘emgoinguntilsomebodycomesalongtotidythingsup.
"Andifnobodydoescome?"Iasked.
"Somebody’sgottocome,"hesaidgrimly.
