День триффидов
Dead End
Yetanothertimeawhiteflutterofmovementonadistanthillsidecaughtmyeye,butwhenIturnedtheglassesonitIfoundittobehalfadozensheepmillinginpanicwhileatriffidstruckcontinuallyandineffectivelyacrosstheirwoollybacks.NowherecouldIseeasignoflivinghumanbeings.
WhenIstoppedforfoodIdidnotlingerlongerthanIneed.Iateitquickly,listeningtoasilencethatwasbeginningtogetonmynerves,andanxioustobeonmywayagainwithatleastthesoundofthecarforcompany.
Onebegantofancythings.OnceIsawanarmwavingfromawindow,butwhenIgotthereitwasonlyabranchswayinginfrontofthewindow.Isawamanstopinthemiddleofafieldandturntowatchmegoby;buttheglassesshowedmethathecouldn’thavestoppedorturned:hewasascarecrow.Iheardvoicescallingtome,justdiscernibleabovetheenginenoise;Istopped,andswitchedoff.Therewerenovoices,nothing,butfar,farawaytheplaintofanunmilkedcow.
Itcametomethathereandthere,dottedaboutthecountry,theremustbemenandwomenwhowerebelievingthemselvestobeutterlyalone,solesurvivors.Ifeltassorryforthemasforanyoneelseinthedisaster.
Duringtheafternoon,withloweredspiritsandlittlehope,Ikeptdoggedlyon,quarteringmysectionofthemap,becauseIdarednotriskfailingtomakemyinnercertaintysure.Atlast,however,IsatisfiedmyselfthatifanysizablepartydidexistintheareaIhadbeenallotted,itwasdeliberatelyhiding.
