День триффидов
Evacuation
AndasIstoodthereIheardthegrittingoffootstepsontheroad—aslightsoundbutasloudinthesilenceasagrindingmillstone.
Iturned,withmygunready.CrusoewasnomorestartledatthesightofafootprintthanIatthesoundofafootfall,forithadnotthehesitancyofablindman’s.Icaughtaglimpseinthedimlightofthemovingfigure.AsitlefttheroadandenteredthegardenIIsawthatitwasaman.EvidentlyhehadseenmebeforeIheardhim,forhewascomingstraighttowardme.
"Youdon’tneedtoshoot,"hesaid,holdingemptyhandswideapart.
Ididnotknowhimuntilhecamewithinafewyards.Simultaneously,herecognizedme.
"Oh,it’syou,isit?"hesaid.Ikeptthegunraised.
"Hullo,Coker.Whatareyouafter?Wantingmetogoonanotherofyourlittleparties?"Iaskedhim.
"No.Youcanputthatthingdown.Makestoomuchnoise,anyway.That’showIfoundyou.No,"herepeated,"I’vehadenough.I’mgettingtohelloutofhere."
"SoamI,"Isaid,andloweredthegun.
"Whathappenedtoyourbunch?"heasked.Itoldhim.Henodded.
"Samewithmine.Samewiththerest,Iexpect.Still,wetried
"Thewrongway,"Isaid.Henoddedagain.
"Yes,"headmitted."Ireckonyourlotdidhavetherightideafromthestart—onlyitdidn’tlookrightanditdidn’tsoundrightaweekago."
"Sixdaysago,"Icorrectedhim.
"Aweek,"saidhe.
"No,I’msure—Ohwell,whatthehell’sitmatter,anyway?"Isaid.
