The Night of the Triffids Read Online Free

told him I didn't.
        'He's one of the few Sighted here in the village. He's a fisherman - and he's one of the biggest grumblers I've ever met. He's always too warm or too cold, or the fish won't bite, or the wind's blowing in the wrong direction… Ah…' He broke off. For a moment I thought he was simply going to nod off there on the bench. I raised the lantern to look at him, but his head hung down wearily.
        'Mr Hartlow?'
        He seemed to pull himself together. 'Sorry… I don't know what's come over me this morning. I tripped into the hedge back there. Must have fallen over my own two feet. Clumsy devil I'm becoming. Never done that before…' He suddenly seemed to shake himself awake. 'Yes, I was telling you about Tom Atkinson, wasn't I? He was shouting out in the street that he couldn't see. At first, as I say, I thought the shooting stars or whatever they were had come back - those damnable things that burned out our eyesight thirty years ago.' He paused, then took a deep breath. 'You know, David.' His grip on my hand tightened further and he began to speak in a low voice. 'That fear came back to me. Just like it did after I stayed out in the garden that night all those years ago. My God. We even made a party of it with the neighbours because they said it was something we'd never see again.' He gave a colourless laugh. 'Never see again. How right they were. Because in the morning we were all blind. And of course I never saw my family again, even though they were in the house with me. But I could hear them screaming. Oh, by Heaven, I could hear that all right, just… just screaming with panic as their eyesight faded away.'
        The grip on my hand, which had relaxed slightly during Mr Hartlow's sad reminiscence, tightened again. He turned his sightless eyes to me. And even though I knew he was one of the old Blind, at that moment I believed he not only looked at me but right into me, into the depths of my soul.
        'David. You know, I had a beautiful, intelligent wife . I had two pretty daughters - just ten and thirteen they were. And thirty years ago, suddenly blind… stone blind… I stood every day in the doorway of our house and called for help. And I listened to my wife and daughters cry themselves to sleep every day for the next three months. You see, we ran out of food. I couldn't find any more…' He shook his head. 'I hated myself, David. I was too weak to find a way of helping them. My God, I wish I could turn the clock back… I wish I had just the one chance to help them; stop them suffering… because…' His voice failed him.
        'I'll take you back to the cottage,' I said gently.
        'Maybe in a moment. You know, I haven't an ounce of strength left in my body. What on earth's happened to me, David?'
        'Don't worry, Mr Hartlow, it must be the shock of the fall, that's all.'
        'Falling over into bushes? Time they put me out to pasture, eh?'
        'You'll soon be fighting fit again, Mr Hartlow.'
        'Maybe, David. Maybe. Now, do you see any sign of that old moaner Tom Atkinson?'
        'I can hardly see a thing. This lantern doesn't cast an awful lot of light.'
        'But how in heaven's name did it get so dark? It doesn't feel like rain so there can't be so much cloud that… ah…'
        The grip on my hand suddenly loosened. His head hung forward again.
        'Mr Hartlow?'
        'Oh… uhm? Sorry, David… I'm just so light-headed. I feel as if I've put away a jug or two more of ale than I should have. Now, this darkness… what do you suppose is responsible?'
        'I don't know - cloud, maybe. But it must be incredibly dense. Without a lamp I can't see my hand in front of my face.'
        'Now that kind of darkness is a great equalizer between the two of us, isn't it?' There was no maliciousness there; the old man sounded as kindly as ever.
        'Mr Hartlow, I'll help you back to-'
        He waved my helping hand away.