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- Джон Уиндем
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- День триффидов
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- Стр. 51/223
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I
looked
down
at
the
fallen
triffid
.
Suddenly
remembering
the
knives
that
we
’
d
acquired
with
quite
other
enemies
in
mind
,
I
used
mine
to
cut
off
the
sting
at
its
base
.
I
examined
it
.
"
That
explains
it
,
"
I
said
,
pointing
to
the
poison
sacs
.
"
See
,
they
’
re
collapsed
,
exhausted
.
If
they
’
d
been
full
,
or
even
part
full
I
turned
a
thumb
down
.
I
had
that
,
and
my
acquired
resistance
to
the
poison
,
to
thank
.
Nevertheless
,
there
were
pale
red
marks
across
the
backs
of
my
hands
and
my
neck
that
were
itching
like
the
devil
.
I
rubbed
them
while
I
stood
looking
at
the
sting
.
"
It
’
s
queer
,
"
I
murmured
,
more
to
myself
than
to
her
,
but
she
heard
me
.
"
What
’
s
queer
?
"
"
I
’
ve
never
seen
one
with
the
poison
sacs
quite
empty
like
this
before
.
It
must
have
been
doing
a
hell
of
a
lot
of
stinging
.
"
But
I
doubt
if
she
heard
me
.
Her
attention
had
reverted
to
the
man
who
was
lying
in
the
drive
,
and
she
was
eying
the
triffid
standing
by
.
"
How
can
we
get
him
away
?
"
she
asked
.
"
I
’
m
afraid
we
can
’
t
—
not
till
that
thing
’
s
been
dealt
with
,
"
I
told
her
.
‘
Besides
—
well
,
I
don
’
t
think
we
can
help
him
now
.
"
You
mean
he
’
s
dead
?
"
