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I
looked
at
it
,
and
thought
.
In
another
hour
or
less
it
would
be
dusk
.
Devizes
I
guessed
at
a
hundred
miles
distant
,
probably
more
.
I
went
outside
again
and
examined
the
trucks
.
One
of
them
was
the
last
that
I
had
driven
in
—
the
one
in
which
I
had
stowed
my
despised
anti
-
triffid
gear
.
I
recalled
that
the
rest
of
its
load
was
a
useful
assortment
of
food
,
supplies
,
and
tools
.
It
would
be
much
better
to
arrive
with
that
than
empty
-
handed
in
a
car
.
Nevertheless
,
if
there
were
no
urgent
reason
for
it
,
I
did
not
fancy
driving
anything
,
much
less
a
large
,
heavily
loaded
truck
,
by
night
along
roads
which
might
reasonably
be
expected
to
produce
a
number
of
hazards
.
If
I
were
to
pile
it
up
,
and
the
odds
were
that
I
should
,
I
would
lose
a
lot
more
time
in
finding
another
and
transferring
the
load
than
I
would
by
spending
the
night
here
.
An
early
start
in
the
morning
offered
much
better
prospects
.
I
moved
my
boxes
of
cartridges
from
the
car
to
the
cab
of
the
truck
in
readiness
.
The
gun
I
kept
with
me
.
I
found
the
room
from
which
I
had
rushed
to
the
fake
fire
alarm
exactly
as
I
had
left
it
:
my
clothes
on
a
chair
,
even
the
cigarette
case
and
lighter
where
I
had
placed
them
beside
my
improvised
bed
.
It
was
still
too
early
to
think
of
sleep
.
I
lit
a
cigarette
,
put
the
case
in
my
pocket
,
and
decided
to
go
out
.
Before
I
went
into
the
Russell
Square
garden
I
looked
it
over
carefully
.
I
had
already
begun
to
become
suspicious
of
open
spaces
.
Sure
enough
,
I
spotted
one
triffid
.
It
was
in
the
northwest
corner
,
standing
perfectly
still
,
but
considerably
taller
than
the
bushes
that
surrounded
it
.
I
went
closer
,
and
blew
the
top
of
it
to
bits
with
a
single
shot
.
The
noise
in
the
silent
square
could
scarcely
have
been
more
alarming
if
I
had
let
off
a
howitzer
.
When
I
was
sure
that
there
were
no
others
lurking
I
went
into
the
garden
and
sat
down
with
my
back
against
a
tree
.
I
stayed
there
perhaps
twenty
minutes
.
The
sun
was
low
,
end
half
the
square
thrown
into
shadow
.
Soon
I
would
have
to
go
in
.
While
there
was
light
I
could
sustain
myself
;
in
the
dark
,
things
could
steal
quietly
upon
me
.
Already
I
was
on
my
way
back
to
the
primitive
.
Before
long
,
perhaps
,
I
should
be
spending
the
hours
of
darkness
in
fear
as
my
remote
ancestors
must
have
done
,
watching
,
ever
distrustfully
,
the
night
outside
their
cave
.
I
delayed
to
take
one
more
look
around
the
square
,
as
if
it
were
a
page
of
history
I
would
learn
before
it
was
turned
.
And
as
I
stood
there
I
heard
the
gritting
of
footsteps
on
the
road
—
a
slight
sound
but
as
loud
in
the
silence
as
a
grinding
millstone
.
I
turned
,
with
my
gun
ready
.
Crusoe
was
no
more
startled
at
the
sight
of
a
footprint
than
I
at
the
sound
of
a
footfall
,
for
it
had
not
the
hesitancy
of
a
blind
man
’
s
.
I
caught
a
glimpse
in
the
dim
light
of
the
moving
figure
.
As
it
left
the
road
and
entered
the
garden
II
saw
that
it
was
a
man
.
Evidently
he
had
seen
me
before
I
heard
him
,
for
he
was
coming
straight
toward
me
.
"
You
don
’
t
need
to
shoot
,
"
he
said
,
holding
empty
hands
wide
apart
.
I
did
not
know
him
until
he
came
within
a
few
yards
.
Simultaneously
,
he
recognized
me
.
