День триффидов
Frustration
Ijumpedtoitthattheremustbeabattlewitharivalganginprogressupthere.Isteppedacrossthefallenmanandclimbedtheladderlikestaircautiously,holdinguponearmtoprotectmyhead.
Thefirstviewwasofnumerousscufflingboots,unpleasantlycloseandbackingtowardthetrap.Inippedupquicklyandgotclearbeforetheywereonme.Iwasupjustintimetoseetheplate-glasswindowinthefrontgiveway.Threemenfromoutsidefellinwithit.Alonggreenlashwhippedafterthem,strikingoneashelay.Theothertwoscrambledamongthewreckageofthedisplayandcamestumblingfartherintotheshop.Thepressedbackagainsttherest,andtwomoremenfellthroughtheopentrapdoor.
Itdidnotneedmorethanaglimpseofthatlashtotellwhathadhappened.DuringtheworkofthepastfewdaysIhadallbutforgottenthetriffids.BystandingonaboxIcouldseeovertheheadsofthemen.Therewerethreetriffidsinmyfieldofview:oneoutintheroad,andtwocloser,onthesidewalk.Fourmenlayonthegroundoutthere,notmoving.Iunderstoodrightthenwhytheseshopshadbeenuntouched,andwhytherehadbeennoonetobeseenintheneighborhoodoftheHeath.AtthesametimeIcursedmyselffornothavinglookedatthebodiesintheroadmoreclosely.Oneglimpseofastingmarkwouldhavebeenenoughwarning.
"Holdit!"Ishouted."Standwhereyouare."
Ijumpeddownfromthebox,pushedbackthemenwhowerestandingonthefolded-backlidofthetrap,andgotitclosed.
"There’sadoorhackhere,"Itoldthem.
