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- Джон Уиндем
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I
went
back
and
told
Coker
.
He
looked
around
him
.
Then
he
shook
his
head
,
though
with
a
touch
of
regret
.
"
Okay
,
"
he
said
.
"
We
’
ll
check
out
of
this
dump
tomorrow
.
"
"
Spoken
like
a
pioneer
,
"
I
told
him
.
"
At
least
,
more
like
a
pioneer
than
an
Englishman
.
"
Nine
o
’
clock
the
next
morning
saw
us
already
twelve
miles
or
so
on
our
road
,
and
traveling
as
before
in
our
two
trucks
.
There
had
been
a
question
whether
we
should
not
take
a
handier
vehicle
and
leave
the
trucks
for
the
benefit
of
the
Tynsham
people
,
but
I
was
reluctant
to
abandon
mine
.
I
had
personally
collected
the
contents
,
and
knew
what
was
in
it
.
Apart
from
the
cases
of
anti
-
triffid
gear
which
Michael
Beadley
had
so
disapproved
,
I
had
given
myself
slightly
wider
scope
on
the
last
load
,
and
there
was
a
selection
of
things
made
with
consideration
of
what
might
be
difficult
to
find
outside
a
large
town
:
such
things
as
a
small
lighting
set
,
some
pumps
,
cases
of
good
tools
.
All
these
things
would
be
available
later
for
the
taking
,
but
there
was
going
to
be
an
interlude
when
it
would
be
advisable
to
keep
away
from
towns
of
any
size
.
The
Tynsham
people
had
the
means
to
fetch
supplies
was
in
London
.
A
couple
of
loads
would
not
make
a
great
deal
from
towns
where
there
was
no
sign
yet
of
the
disease
that
of
difference
to
them
either
way
,
so
in
the
end
we
Went
as
we
had
come
.
The
weather
still
held
good
.
On
the
higher
ground
there
was
still
little
taint
in
the
fresh
air
,
though
most
villages
bad
become
unpleasant
.
Rarely
we
saw
a
still
figure
lying
in
a
field
or
by
the
roadside
,
but
,
just
as
in
London
,
the
main
instinct
seemed
to
have
been
to
hide
away
in
shelter
of
some
kind
.
Most
of
the
villages
showed
empty
streets
,
and
the
countryside
around
them
was
as
deserted
as
if
the
whole
human
race
and
most
of
its
animals
had
been
spirited
away
.
Until
we
came
to
Steeple
Honey
.
From
our
road
we
had
a
view
of
the
whole
of
Steeple
Honey
as
we
descended
the
hill
.
It
clustered
at
the
farther
end
of
a
stone
bridge
which
arched
across
a
small
,
sparkling
river
.
It
was
a
quiet
little
place
centered
round
a
sleepy
-
looking
church
,
and
stippled
off
at
its
edges
with
whitewashed
cottages
.
It
did
not
look
as
if
anything
had
occurred
in
a
century
or
more
to
disturb
the
quiet
life
under
its
thatched
roofs
.
But
,
like
other
villages
,
it
was
now
without
stir
or
smoke
.
And
then
,
as
we
were
halfway
down
the
hill
,
a
movement
caught
my
eye
.
On
the
left
,
at
the
far
end
of
the
bridge
,
one
house
stood
slightly
aslant
from
the
road
so
that
it
faced
obliquely
toward
us
.
An
inn
sign
hung
from
a
bracket
on
its
wall
,
and
from
the
window
immediately
above
that
something
white
was
being
waved
.
As
we
came
closer
I
could
see
the
man
who
was
leaning
out
and
frantically
flagging
us
with
a
towel
.
I
judged
that
he
must
be
blind
,
otherwise
he
would
have
come
out
into
the
road
to
intercept
us
.
He
was
waving
too
vigorously
for
a
sick
man
.
I
signaled
back
to
Coker
and
pulled
up
as
we
cleared
the
bridge
.
