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Under Foot

           Contrastingvividlywiththisruinwastheneatdresser,stainedinthefashion,palegreen,andwithanumberofcopperandtinvesselsbelowit,thewallpaperimitatingblueandwhitetiles,andacoupleofcolouredsupplementsflutteringfromthewallsabovethekitchenrange. 

           Asthedawngrewclearer,wesawthroughthegapinthewallthebodyofaMartian,standingsentinel,Isuppose,overthestillglowingcylinder. Atthesightofthatwecrawledascircumspectlyaspossibleoutofthetwilightofthekitchenintothedarknessofthescullery. 

           Abruptlytherightinterpretationdawneduponmymind. 

           "Thefifthcylinder,"Iwhispered,"thefifthshotfromMars,hasstruckthishouseandburiedusundertheruins!" 

           Foratimethecuratewassilent,andthenhewhispered: 

           "Godhavemercyuponus!" 

           Iheardhimpresentlywhimperingtohimself. 

           Saveforthatsoundwelayquitestillinthescullery; Iformypartscarcedaredbreathe,andsatwithmyeyesfixedonthefaintlightofthekitchendoor. Icouldjustseethecurate’sface,adim,ovalshape,andhiscollarandcuffs. Outsidetherebeganametallichammering,thenaviolenthooting,andthenagain,afteraquietinterval,ahissinglikethehissingofanengine. Thesenoises,forthemostpartproblematical,continuedintermittently,andseemedifanythingtoincreaseinnumberastimeworeon. Presentlyameasuredthuddingandavibrationthatmadeeverythingaboutusquiverandthevesselsinthepantryringandshift,beganandcontinued. 

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Roboto Lora
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