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- Джон Уиндем
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- День триффидов
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- Стр. 161/223
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"
You
’
re
right
.
Very
effective
.
The
one
thing
we
’
ve
used
them
for
.
And
,
incidentally
,
the
one
thing
I
know
that
really
makes
a
triffid
bear
it
.
You
can
go
on
firing
at
them
until
they
’
re
shot
to
bits
,
and
they
don
’
t
budge
.
I
suppose
they
don
’
t
know
where
the
destruction
’
s
coming
from
.
But
one
warm
lick
from
this
and
they
’
re
plunging
off
fit
to
bust
themselves
.
"
"
Have
you
had
a
lot
of
trouble
with
them
?
"
I
asked
.
It
seemed
that
they
had
not
.
From
time
to
time
one
,
perhaps
two
or
three
,
would
approach
,
and
be
scorched
away
.
On
their
expeditions
they
had
had
several
lucky
escapes
,
but
usually
they
were
out
of
their
vehicles
only
in
built
-
up
areas
where
there
was
little
likelihood
of
prowling
triffids
.
That
night
,
after
dark
,
we
all
went
up
to
the
roof
.
It
was
too
early
for
the
moon
.
We
looked
out
upon
an
utterly
black
landscape
.
Search
it
as
we
would
,
not
one
of
us
was
able
to
discover
the
least
pin
point
of
a
telltale
light
.
Nor
could
any
of
the
party
recall
ever
having
seen
a
trace
of
smoke
by
day
.
I
was
feeling
depressed
when
we
descended
again
to
the
lamp
-
lit
living
room
.
"
There
’
s
only
one
thing
for
it
,
then
,
"
Coker
said
.
‘
We
’
ll
have
to
divide
the
district
up
into
areas
and
search
them
.
"
But
he
did
not
say
it
with
conviction
.
I
suspected
that
he
was
thinking
it
likely
,
as
I
was
,
that
the
Headley
party
would
continue
to
show
a
deliberate
light
by
night
and
some
other
sign
—
probably
a
smoke
column
—
by
day
.
However
,
no
one
had
any
better
suggestion
to
make
,
so
we
got
down
to
the
business
of
dividing
the
map
up
into
sections
,
doing
our
best
to
contrive
that
each
should
include
some
high
ground
to
give
an
extensive
view
beyond
it
.
The
following
day
we
went
into
the
town
in
a
truck
,
and
from
there
dispersed
in
smaller
cars
for
the
search
.
That
was
,
without
a
doubt
,
the
most
melancholy
day
I
had
spent
since
I
had
wandered
about
Westminster
searching
for
traces
of
Josella
there
.
Just
at
first
it
wasn
’
t
too
bad
.
There
was
the
open
road
in
the
sunlight
,
the
fresh
green
of
early
summer
.
There
were
signposts
which
pointed
to
"
Exeter
&
The
West
,
"
and
other
places
,
as
if
they
still
pursued
their
habitual
lives
.
There
were
sometimes
,
though
rarely
,
birds
to
be
seen
.
And
there
were
wild
flowers
beside
the
lanes
,
looking
as
they
had
always
looked
.
But
the
other
side
of
the
picture
was
not
as
good
.
There
were
fields
in
which
cattle
lay
dead
or
wandered
blindly
,
and
untended
cows
lowed
in
pain
.
Where
sheep
in
their
easy
discouragement
had
stood
resignedly
to
die
rather
than
pull
themselves
free
from
bramble
or
barbed
wire
,
and
other
sheep
grazed
erratically
or
starved
helplessly
with
looks
of
reproach
in
their
blind
eyes
.
