The Night of the Triffids Read Online Free Page A

'No, David. Not yet.' He took a deep breath. 'David… you know, I've always suspected something like this would happen. All these years I've sat in my cottage and thought about the terrible calamity that befell the planet, and how people like your mother and father and Ivan Simpson worked their miracles, how they saved so many people - Blind as well as Sighted - and how they embedded a tiny sliver of civilization in this island.' He sighed. 'But long ago I came to the conclusion it was all a waste of time and effort. Three decades ago Mother Nature, fate or God Himself decided that Man had ruled this planet long enough; so an attempt was made to wipe Man out; render him extinct. Very nearly succeeded, too. Still, as I said, due to the brave efforts of the Masens and people like them we cheated extinction. But I tell you this, David.' He looked at me, those sightless eyes once again seeming to pierce my soul. 'I tell you, God will not be cheated. Nothing Man can do will thwart His plan. We are all going to die. He has decided. The last twenty-five years here have been nothing more than a peaceful interlude. An intermission between two halves of a titanic catastrophe that will destroy all human life. Now He-' Mr Hartlow pointed skyward '-is going to finish the job. Remember the Bible's Book of Exodus. One of the plagues to afflict Pharaoh was darkness. The Lord said to Moses, "Stretch your hand toward heaven that there may be darkness over the land of Egypt, a darkness to be felt".' Eyes glittering strangely, the old man lifted his hand as if to touch the encircling darkness. 'In every culture darkness precedes Armageddon. The Vikings predicted the end of the world would begin when the monster wolf, Fenrir, swallowed the sun, bringing darkness. The ancient Sumerians told how nearly all the people of the Earth were killed "when daylight turned to darkness" and their god "smashed the land like a cup…" Mark my words, David. Mark them well… this is the beginning of the end.'
        'Mr Hartlow, you're tired. Let me get you back home.'
        'Thank you, perhaps… Oh…'
        'What's the matter?'
        'My face is sore. I must have grazed it when I fell.' He touched his cheek.
        'Let me take a look at that… Mr Hartlow… Mr Hartlow ?'
        His head sagged forward and I had to grip his shoulder to stop him falling. Not that it mattered to Mr Hartlow now. As I lowered him sideways onto the bench I instinctively knew he was dead.
        I raised the lamp to look into his face.
        There, in the glow of the lamp, I could plainly see the bright red streak across the old man's cheek.
        Now I knew what had killed him.
        I stooped quickly, using the back of the bench to shield at least part of my body. Then, raising the lamp as high as I dared, I looked at the dark shapes of the bushes and trees. But the light was too weak to identify individual species. They might have been everyday alders, sycamores, immature oaks, young chestnuts - but they might have been something entirely different. Something infinitely more sinister.
        I knew there was nothing more to be done for Mr Hartlow. What mattered now was that I should warn Emergency HQ at Newport.
        Keeping as low as I could, I ran at a crouch.
        And even as I ran it started. A hollow drumming sound of wood on wood. A sound that every child on the island had been taught to recognize.
        Something rustled in the hedgerow beside me.
        Ducking my head still lower, I hurried on.
        In front of me lay the dark form of a horse. The animal was stone dead.
        A little further on, I saw a pair of waders protruding from the long grass at the side of the road. That would be Tom Atkinson; silvery fish from his basket lay scattered across the ground. He'd landed his last catch.
        The drumming grew louder. A maddening tip-tap-tip-tap .
        Ahead I saw a cottage from which hung a post-office sign. I