День триффидов
Strategic Withdrawal
Lightswereonbehindsomeofthewindows,andaswewatched,thoseonthevehicleblazedout,floodlightingthehouse.Astarterbegantogrind.
Ihadatwingeofuneasinessastheenginefired,thoughIknewwehadseveraltimesthespeedofthatlumberingcontraption.Themachinebegantojerkroundonitstrackstofacethegate.
Beforeitcompletedtheturn,theenginesputtered,andstopped.
Thestarterbegantowhirragain.Itwentonwhirring,irritably,andwithoutresult.
Thetriffidshaddiscoveredthatthegatewasdown.Byablendofmoonlightandreflectedheadlightswecouldseetheirdark,slenderformsalreadyswayinginungainlyprocessionintotheyardwhileotherscamelurchingdownthebanksofthelanetofollowthem...
IlookedatJosella.
Shewasnotcryingatall.ShelookedfrommedowntoDavid,asleepinherarms.
"I’veallIreallyneed,"shesaid,"andsomedayyou’regoingtobringusbacktotherest,Bill."
"Wifelyconfidenceisaverynicetrait,darling,but—No,damnit,nobuts—Iamgoingtobringyouback,"Isaid.
IgotOuttoclearthedebrisfromthefrontofthehalf-trackandwipethepoisonfromthewindshieldsothatIshouldbeabletoseetodrive,onandawayacrossthetopsofthebills,towardthesouthwest.
Andtheremypersonalstoryjoinsupwiththerest.YouwillfinditinElspethCary’sexcellenthistoryofthecolony
