День триффидов
Shadows Before
"It’snotgoingtomakemuchdifferencetothem,"shesaid.
Fortherestofthewaytherewaslittletodelayus.WithinafewminutesIwaspullingupatthehousesheshowedme,Wegotoutofthecar,andIpushedopenthegate.Ashortdrivecurvedroundabedofbusheswhichhidmostofthehousefrontfromtheroad.Asweturnedthecorner,Josellagaveacryandranforward.Afigurewaslyingonthegravel,chestdownward,butwiththeheadturnedtoshowonesideofitsface.Thefirstglanceatitshowedmethebrightredstreakacrossthecheek.
"Stop!"Ishoutedather.
Therewasenoughalarminmyvoicetocheckher.
Ihadspottedthetriffidnow.Itwaslurkingamongthebushes,wellwithinstrikingrangeofthesprawledfigure.
"Back!Quick!"Isaid.
Stilllookingatthemanontheground,shehesitated.
"ButImust—"shebegan,turningtowardme.Thenshestopped.Hereyeswidened,andshescreamed.
Iwhippedroundtofindatriffidtoweringonlyafewfeetbehindme.
InoneautomaticmovementIhadmyhandsovermyeyes.Iheardthestingwhistleasitslashedoutatme—buttherewasnoknockout,noagonizingburning,even.One’smindcanmovelikelightningatsuchamoment;nevertheless,itwasmoreinstinctthanreasonwhichsentmeleapingatitbeforeiibadtimetostrikeagain.Icollidedwithit,overturningit,andevenasIwentdownwithitmyhandswereontheupperpartofthestem,tryingtopulloffthecupandthesting.Triffidstemsdonotsnap—buttheycanhemangled.
