Война миров
Under Foot
Webothsatquitesilent,sothatwecouldscarcelyheareachotherbreathing. Everythingseemeddeadlystill,butoncesomethingnearus,someplasterorbrokenbrickwork,sliddownwitharumblingsound. Outsideandverynearwasanintermittent,metallicrattle.
"That!"saidthecurate,whenpresentlyithappenedagain.
"Yes,"Isaid."Butwhatisit?"
"AMartian!"saidthecurate.
Ilistenedagain.
"ItwasnotliketheHeat-Ray,"Isaid,andforatimeIwasinclinedtothinkoneofthegreatfighting-machineshadstumbledagainstthehouse, asIhadseenonestumbleagainstthetowerofSheppertonChurch.
Oursituationwassostrangeandincomprehensiblethatforthreeorfourhours,untilthedawncame,wescarcelymoved. Andthenthelightfilteredin,notthroughthewindow,whichremainedblack,butthroughatriangularaperturebetweenabeamandaheapofbrokenbricksinthewallbehindus. Theinteriorofthekitchenwenowsawgreylyforthefirsttime.
Thewindowhadbeenburstinbyamassofgardenmould,whichflowedoverthetableuponwhichwehadbeensittingandlayaboutourfeet. Outside,thesoilwasbankedhighagainstthehouse. Atthetopofthewindowframewecouldseeanuprooteddrainpipe. Thefloorwaslitteredwithsmashedhardware; theendofthekitchentowardsthehousewasbrokeninto,andsincethedaylightshoneinthere,itwasevidentthegreaterpartofthehousehadcollapsed.
