-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джон Уиндем
-
- День триффидов
-
- Стр. 40/223
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Then
there
was
,
too
,
the
little
question
of
what
to
do
next
:
how
and
where
to
start
on
this
new
life
.
But
I
did
not
let
that
worry
me
a
lot
for
the
present
.
I
drank
up
and
went
out
of
the
hotel
to
see
what
this
strange
world
had
to
offer
.
In
order
to
give
a
reasonable
berth
to
the
Caf6
Royal
mob
I
struck
up
a
side
street
into
Soho
,
intending
to
cut
back
to
Regent
street
higher
up
.
Perhaps
hunger
was
driving
more
people
out
of
their
homes
.
Whatever
The
reason
,
I
found
that
the
pans
I
now
entered
were
more
populous
than
any
I
’
d
seen
since
I
left
the
hospital
.
Constant
collisions
took
place
on
the
sidewalks
and
in
the
narrow
streets
,
and
the
confusion
of
those
who
were
trying
to
get
along
was
made
worse
by
knots
of
people
clustering
in
front
of
the
now
frequently
broken
shop
windows
.
None
of
those
who
crowded
there
seemed
to
he
quite
sure
what
kind
of
shop
they
were
facing
.
Some
in
the
front
sought
to
find
out
by
groping
for
any
recognizable
object
;
others
,
taking
the
risk
of
disemboweling
themselves
on
standing
splinters
of
glass
,
more
enterprisingly
climbed
inside
.
I
felt
that
I
ought
to
be
showing
these
people
where
to
find
food
.
But
should
I
?
If
I
were
to
lead
them
to
a
food
shop
still
intact
,
there
would
be
a
crowd
which
would
not
only
sweep
the
place
bare
in
five
minutes
but
would
crush
a
number
of
its
weaker
members
in
the
process
.
Soon
,
anyway
,
all
the
food
in
the
shops
would
be
gone
;
then
what
was
to
be
done
with
the
thousands
clamoring
for
more
?
One
might
collect
a
small
party
and
keep
it
alive
somehow
for
an
uncertain
length
of
time
—
but
who
was
to
be
taken
and
who
left
?
No
obviously
right
course
presented
itself
however
I
tried
to
look
at
it
.
What
was
going
on
was
a
grim
business
without
chivalry
,
with
no
give
,
and
all
take
,
about
it
.
A
man
humping
into
another
and
feeling
that
he
carried
a
parcel
would
snatch
it
and
duck
away
,
on
the
chance
that
it
contained
something
to
eat
,
while
the
loser
clutched
furiously
at
the
air
or
hit
out
indiscriminately
.
Once
I
had
to
step
hurriedly
aside
to
avoid
being
knocked
down
by
an
elderly
man
who
darted
into
the
roadway
with
no
care
for
possible
obstacles
.
His
expression
was
vastly
cunning
,
and
he
clutched
avariciously
to
his
chest
two
cans
of
red
paint
.
On
a
corner
my
way
was
blocked
by
a
group
almost
weeping
with
frustration
over
a
bewildered
child
who
could
see
but
was
just
too
young
to
understand
what
they
wanted
of
it
.
I
began
to
become
uneasy
.
Fighting
with
my
civilized
urge
to
be
of
some
help
to
these
people
was
an
instinct
that
told
me
to
keep
clear
.
They
were
already
fast
losing
ordinary
restraints
.
I
felt
,
too
,
an
irrational
sense
of
guilt
at
being
able
to
see
while
they
could
not
.
It
gave
me
an
odd
feeling
that
I
was
hiding
from
them
even
while
I
moved
among
them
.
Later
on
I
found
how
right
the
instinct
was
.
Close
to
Golden
Square
I
began
to
think
of
turning
left
and
working
back
to
Regent
Street
,
where
the
wider
roadway
would
offer
easier
going
.
I
was
about
to
take
a
corner
that
would
lead
me
that
way
when
a
sudden
piercing
scream
stopped
me
.
It
stopped
everyone
else
too
.
All
along
the
street
they
stood
still
,
turning
their
heads
this
way
and
that
,
apprehensively
trying
to
guess
what
was
happening
.
The
alarm
,
coming
on
top
of
their
distress
and
nervous
tension
,
started
a
number
of
the
women
whimpering
.
The
men
’
s
nerves
weren
’
t
in
any
too
good
a
state
either
;
they
showed
it
mostly
in
short
curses
at
being
startled
.
For
it
was
an
ominous
sound
,
one
of
the
kinds
of
thing
they
had
been
subconsciously
expecting
.
They
waited
for
it
to
come
again
.
It
did
.
Frightened
,
and
dying
into
a
gasp
.
But
less
alarming
now
that
one
was
ready
for
it
.
This
time
I
was
able
to
place
it
.
A
few
steps
took
me
to
an
alley
entrance
.
As
I
turned
the
corner
a
cry
that
was
half
a
gasp
came
again
.
