День триффидов
Evacuation
Iparkedthecarbesidethemandwentintothebuilding.Myfootstepsclatteredinthesilence.
"Hub!Hullo,there!"Icalled."Isthereanyonehere?"
Myvoiceechoedawaydowncorridorsandupwells,diminishingtotheparodyofawhisperandthentosilence.Iwenttothedoorsoftheotherwingandcalledagain.Oncemoretheechoesdiedawayunbroken,settlingsoftlyasdust.Onlythen,asIturnedback,didInoticethataninscriptionhadbeenchalkedonthewallinsidetheouterdoor.Inlargelettersitgavesimplyanaddress:
TYNSHAMMANOR
TYNSHAM
NRDEVIZES
WILTS.
Thatwassomething,atleast.
Ilookedatit,andthought.Inanotherhourorlessitwouldbedusk.DevizesIguessedatahundredmilesdistant,probablymore.Iwentoutsideagainandexaminedthetrucks.OneofthemwasthelastthatIhaddrivenin—theoneinwhichIhadstowedmydespisedanti-triffidgear.Irecalledthattherestofitsloadwasausefulassortmentoffood,supplies,andtools.Itwouldbemuchbettertoarrivewiththatthanempty-handedinacar.Nevertheless,iftherewerenourgentreasonforit,Ididnotfancydrivinganything,muchlessalarge,heavilyloadedtruck,bynightalongroadswhichmightreasonablybeexpectedtoproduceanumberofhazards.IfIweretopileitup,andtheoddswerethatIshould,IwouldlosealotmoretimeinfindinganotherandtransferringtheloadthanIwouldbyspendingthenighthere.Anearlystartinthemorningofferedmuchbetterprospects.
