День триффидов

           ButtolistenlongerwasmorethanIcouldendure.Iwentquietlybackintothestreet,unabletoseeanythingmorethanmistilyforawhile.

           EvenHydeParkCorner,whenIreachedit,wasalmostdeserted.Afewderelictcarsandtrucksstoodaboutontheroads.Verylittle,itseemed,hadgoneoutofcontrolwhenitwasinmotion.OnebushadrunacrossthepathandcometorestintheGreenPark;arunawayhorsewithshaftsstillattachedtoitlaybesidetheartillerymemorialagainstwhichithadcrackeditsskull.Theonlymovingthingswereafewmenandalessernumberofwomenfeelingtheirwaycarefullywithhandsandfeetwheretherewererailingsandshufflingforwardwithprotectivelyoutstretchedarmswheretherewerenot.Also,andratherunexpectedly,therewereoneortwocats,apparentlyintactvisuallyandtreatingthewholesituationwiththatself-possessioncommontocats.Theyhadpoorprowlingthroughtheeeriequietness—thesparrowswerefew,andthepigeonshadvanished.

           Stillmagneticallydrawntowardtheoldcenterofthings,IcrossedinthedirectionofPiccadilly.IwasjustabouttostartalongitwhenInoticedasharpnewsound—asteadytappingnotfaraway,andcomingcloser.LookingupParkLane,Idiscovereditssource.Aman,moreneatlydressedthananyotherIhadseenthatmorning,waswalkingrapidlytowardme,hittingthewallbesidehimwithawhitestick.Ashecaughtthesoundofmystepshestopped,listeningalertly.

           "It’sallright,"Itoldhim."Comeon."

           Ifeltrelievedtoseehim.