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- Джон Уиндем
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- День триффидов
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- Стр. 188/223
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My
first
tentative
trip
there
I
took
alone
,
returning
with
cases
of
triffid
bolts
,
paper
,
engine
parts
,
the
Braille
books
and
writing
machine
that
Dennis
so
much
desired
,
the
luxuries
of
drinks
,
candies
,
records
,
and
yet
more
books
for
the
rest
of
us
.
A
week
later
Josella
came
with
me
an
a
more
practical
search
for
clothing
,
not
only
,
or
even
chiefly
,
for
the
adults
of
the
party
so
much
as
for
Mary
’
s
baby
and
the
one
she
herself
was
now
expecting
.
It
upset
her
,
and
it
remained
the
only
visit
she
made
.
It
was
at
the
end
of
the
fourth
year
that
I
made
my
last
trip
,
and
found
that
there
were
now
risks
which
I
was
not
justified
in
taking
.
The
first
intimation
of
that
was
a
thunderous
crash
behind
me
somewhere
in
the
inner
suburbs
.
I
stopped
the
truck
,
and
looked
back
to
see
the
dust
rising
from
a
heap
of
rubble
which
lay
across
the
road
.
Evidently
my
rumbling
passage
bad
given
the
last
shake
to
a
tottering
house
front
.
I
brought
no
more
buildings
down
that
day
,
but
I
spent
it
in
apprehension
of
a
descending
torrent
of
bricks
and
mortar
.
Thereafter
II
confined
my
attention
to
smaller
towns
,
and
usually
went
about
them
on
foot
.
Brighton
,
which
should
have
been
our
largest
convenient
source
of
supplies
,
I
let
alone
.
By
the
time
I
had
thought
it
fit
for
a
visit
,
others
were
in
charge
there
.
Who
or
how
many
there
were
,
I
did
not
know
.
I
simply
found
a
rough
wall
of
stones
piled
across
the
road
and
painted
with
the
instruction
:
KEEP
OUT
!
The
advice
was
backed
up
by
the
crack
of
a
rifle
and
a
spurt
of
dust
just
in
front
of
me
.
There
was
no
one
in
sight
to
argue
with
—
besides
,
it
arguing
kind
of
gambit
.
I
turned
the
truck
round
and
drove
away
thoughtfully
.
I
wondered
if
a
time
might
come
when
the
man
Stephen
’
s
preparations
for
defense
might
turn
out
to
be
not
so
misplaced
after
all
.
Just
to
be
on
the
safe
side
,
I
laid
in
several
machine
guns
and
mortars
from
the
source
which
had
already
provided
us
with
the
flame
throwers
we
used
against
the
triffids
.
In
the
November
of
that
second
year
Josella
’
s
first
baby
was
born
.
We
called
him
David
.
My
pleasure
in
him
was
at
times
alloyed
with
misgivings
over
the
state
of
things
we
had
created
him
to
face
.
But
that
worded
Josella
much
less
than
it
did
me
.
She
adored
him
.
He
seemed
to
be
a
compensation
to
her
for
much
that
she
bad
lost
,
and
,
paradoxically
,
she
started
to
worry
less
over
the
condition
of
the
bridges
ahead
than
she
had
before
.
Anyway
,
he
had
a
lustiness
which
argued
well
for
his
future
capacity
to
take
care
of
himself
,
so
I
repressed
my
misgivings
and
increased
the
work
I
was
putting
into
that
land
which
would
one
day
have
to
support
all
of
us
.
It
must
have
been
not
so
very
long
after
that
that
Josella
turned
my
attention
more
closely
to
the
triffids
.
I
had
for
years
been
so
used
to
taking
precautions
against
them
in
my
work
that
their
becoming
a
regular
part
of
the
landscape
was
far
less
noticeable
to
me
than
it
was
to
the
others
.
I
had
been
accustomed
,
too
,
to
wearing
meshed
masks
and
gloves
when
I
dealt
with
them
,
so
that
there
was
little
novelty
far
me
in
donning
these
things
whenever
I
drove
out
.
I
had
,
in
fact
,
got
into
the
habit
of
paying
little
more
attention
to
them
than
one
would
to
mosquitoes
in
a
known
malarial
area
.
Josella
mentioned
it
as
we
lay
in
bed
one
night
when
almost
the
only
sound
was
the
intermittent
,
distant
rattling
of
their
hard
little
sticks
against
their
stems
.
