Underfoot

In the first book I have wandered so much from my own adventures to tell of the experiences of my brother that all through the last two chapters I and the curate have been lurking in the empty house at Halliford whither we fled to escape the Black Smoke. There I will resume. We stopped there all Sunday night and all the next day—the day of the panic—in a little island of daylight, cut off by the Black Smoke from the rest of the world. We could do nothing but wait in aching inactivity during those two weary days.

In the first book, I spent so much time describing my brother's experiences that I neglected my own adventures. Throughout the last two chapters, the curate and I have been hiding in the empty house at Halliford. We fled there to escape the Black Smoke. I will pick up the story there. We stayed in the house all Sunday night and all the next day, the day of the panic. We were in a little island of daylight, cut off from the rest of the world by the Black Smoke. During those two weary days, we could do nothing but wait in painful inactivity.

My mind was occupied by anxiety for my wife. I figured her at Leatherhead, terrified, in danger, mourning me already as a dead man. I paced the rooms and cried aloud when I thought of how I was cut off from her, of all that might happen to her in my absence. My cousin I knew was brave enough for any emergency, but he was not the sort of man to realise danger quickly, to rise promptly. What was needed now was not bravery, but circumspection. My only consolation was to believe that the Martians were moving Londonward and away from her. Such vague anxieties keep the mind sensitive and painful. I grew very weary and irritable with the curate’s perpetual ejaculations; I tired of the sight of his selfish despair. After some ineffectual remonstrance I kept away from him, staying in a room—evidently a children’s schoolroom—containing globes, forms, and copybooks. When he followed me thither, I went to a box room at the top of the house and, in order to be alone with my aching miseries, locked myself in.

My mind was full of worry for my wife. I pictured her at Leatherhead, terrified and in danger, already mourning me as dead. I paced the rooms and cried aloud. I thought of how I was cut off from her and of all that might happen in my absence. I knew my cousin was brave enough for any emergency. But he was not the kind of man to recognize danger quickly or act promptly. What was needed now was not bravery, but caution. My only comfort was the belief that the Martians were moving toward London and away from her. Such vague worries keep the mind on edge and in pain. I grew very tired and irritable with the curate’s constant outbursts. I grew tired of seeing his selfish despair. After trying in vain to reason with him, I kept away from him. I stayed in a room that was evidently a children’s schoolroom, with globes, benches, and copybooks. When he followed me there, I went to a storage room at the top of the house. I locked myself in so I could be alone with my aching misery.

We were hopelessly hemmed in by the Black Smoke all that day and the morning of the next. There were signs of people in the next house on Sunday evening—a face at a window and moving lights, and later the slamming of a door. But I do not know who these people were, nor what became of them. We saw nothing of them next day. The Black Smoke drifted slowly riverward all through Monday morning, creeping nearer and nearer to us, driving at last along the roadway outside the house that hid us.

We were hopelessly trapped by the Black Smoke all that day and the next morning. On Sunday evening, there were signs of people in the next house. We saw a face at a window and lights moving, and later heard a door slam. But I do not know who those people were or what happened to them. We saw nothing of them the next day. All through Monday morning, the Black Smoke drifted slowly toward the river, creeping closer and closer to us. At last, it swept along the road outside the house where we were hiding.

A Martian came across the fields about midday, laying the stuff with a jet of superheated steam that hissed against the walls, smashed all the windows it touched, and scalded the curate’s hand as he fled out of the front room. When at last we crept across the sodden rooms and looked out again, the country northward was as though a black snowstorm had passed over it. Looking towards the river, we were astonished to see an unaccountable redness mingling with the black of the scorched meadows.

Around midday, a Martian came across the fields, spreading the stuff with a jet of superheated steam. The steam hissed against the walls and smashed every window it touched. It also scalded the curate’s hand as he fled from the front room. At last, we crept across the soaked rooms and looked out again. The countryside to the north looked as if a black snowstorm had passed over it. Looking toward the river, we were astonished to see a mysterious redness mixed with the black of the scorched meadows.

For a time we did not see how this change affected our position, save that we were relieved of our fear of the Black Smoke. But later I perceived that we were no longer hemmed in, that now we might get away. So soon as I realised that the way of escape was open, my dream of action returned. But the curate was lethargic, unreasonable.

For a while, we did not see how the change affected our situation. We only knew we no longer feared the Black Smoke. But later I realized we were no longer trapped. We could now get away. As soon as I realized we had a way out, my dream of taking action returned. But the curate was sluggish and unreasonable.

“We are safe here,” he repeated; “safe here.”

“We are safe here,” he repeated. “Safe here.”

I resolved to leave him—would that I had! Wiser now for the artilleryman’s teaching, I sought out food and drink. I had found oil and rags for my burns, and I also took a hat and a flannel shirt that I found in one of the bedrooms. When it was clear to him that I meant to go alone—had reconciled myself to going alone—he suddenly roused himself to come. And all being quiet throughout the afternoon, we started about five o’clock, as I should judge, along the blackened road to Sunbury.

I decided to leave him. If only I had! Wiser now from what the artilleryman had taught me, I looked for food and drink. I found oil and rags for my burns. I also took a hat and a flannel shirt from one of the bedrooms. When he realized I meant to go alone, and had accepted that I would, he suddenly decided to come. Everything was quiet throughout the afternoon, so we set off along the blackened road to Sunbury at about five o’clock, as best I could tell.

In Sunbury, and at intervals along the road, were dead bodies lying in contorted attitudes, horses as well as men, overturned carts and luggage, all covered thickly with black dust. That pall of cindery powder made me think of what I had read of the destruction of Pompeii. We got to Hampton Court without misadventure, our minds full of strange and unfamiliar appearances, and at Hampton Court our eyes were relieved to find a patch of green that had escaped the suffocating drift. We went through Bushey Park, with its deer going to and fro under the chestnuts, and some men and women hurrying in the distance towards Hampton, and so we came to Twickenham. These were the first people we saw.

In Sunbury and at intervals along the road, bodies lay in twisted positions. There were horses as well as people, along with overturned carts and luggage. Everything was thickly covered in black dust. The blanket of ash-like powder reminded me of what I had read about the destruction of Pompeii. We reached Hampton Court without trouble, our minds full of strange and unfamiliar sights. At Hampton Court, our eyes were relieved to find a patch of green that had escaped the suffocating dust. We went through Bushey Park, where deer wandered under the chestnut trees. In the distance, some men and women were hurrying toward Hampton. These were the first people we saw. We continued on to Twickenham.

Away across the road the woods beyond Ham and Petersham were still afire. Twickenham was uninjured by either Heat-Ray or Black Smoke, and there were more people about here, though none could give us news. For the most part they were like ourselves, taking advantage of a lull to shift their quarters. I have an impression that many of the houses here were still occupied by scared inhabitants, too frightened even for flight. Here too the evidence of a hasty rout was abundant along the road. I remember most vividly three smashed bicycles in a heap, pounded into the road by the wheels of subsequent carts. We crossed Richmond Bridge about half past eight. We hurried across the exposed bridge, of course, but I noticed floating down the stream a number of red masses, some many feet across. I did not know what these were—there was no time for scrutiny—and I put a more horrible interpretation on them than they deserved. Here again on the Surrey side were black dust that had once been smoke, and dead bodies—a heap near the approach to the station; but we had no glimpse of the Martians until we were some way towards Barnes.

Across the road, the woods beyond Ham and Petersham were still burning. Twickenham had not been damaged by the Heat-Ray or the Black Smoke. There were more people around here, though none could give us any news. Most were like us, taking advantage of a lull to move elsewhere. I had the impression that many houses were still occupied by frightened residents, too scared even to flee. Here too, the road showed plenty of signs of a hasty retreat. I remember most vividly three smashed bicycles in a heap, crushed into the road by the wheels of carts that followed. We crossed Richmond Bridge at about half past eight. Of course, we hurried across the exposed bridge. But I noticed a number of red masses floating downstream, some many feet across. I did not know what they were, and there was no time to look closely. I imagined they were something more horrible than they really were. Here again, on the Surrey side, there was black dust that had once been smoke. There were also dead bodies, including a heap near the approach to the station. But we did not catch sight of the Martians until we were some way towards Barnes.

We saw in the blackened distance a group of three people running down a side street towards the river, but otherwise it seemed deserted. Up the hill Richmond town was burning briskly; outside the town of Richmond there was no trace of the Black Smoke.

In the blackened distance, we saw three people running down a side street toward the river. But otherwise, the area seemed deserted. Up the hill, Richmond was burning fiercely. Outside the town, there was no sign of the Black Smoke.

Then suddenly, as we approached Kew, came a number of people running, and the upperworks of a Martian fighting-machine loomed in sight over the housetops, not a hundred yards away from us. We stood aghast at our danger, and had the Martian looked down we must immediately have perished. We were so terrified that we dared not go on, but turned aside and hid in a shed in a garden. There the curate crouched, weeping silently, and refusing to stir again.

Then, as we approached Kew, several people suddenly came running toward us. The upper part of a Martian fighting-machine loomed over the rooftops, less than a hundred yards away. We stood horrified at the danger. If the Martian had looked down, we would have died at once. We were too terrified to go on, so we turned aside and hid in a garden shed. There the curate crouched, weeping silently and refusing to move again.

But my fixed idea of reaching Leatherhead would not let me rest, and in the twilight I ventured out again. I went through a shrubbery, and along a passage beside a big house standing in its own grounds, and so emerged upon the road towards Kew. The curate I left in the shed, but he came hurrying after me.

But I could not stop thinking about reaching Leatherhead, so I ventured out again at twilight. I went through some bushes and along a passage beside a large house with its own grounds. From there, I came out onto the road toward Kew. I had left the curate in the shed, but he hurried after me.

That second start was the most foolhardy thing I ever did. For it was manifest the Martians were about us. No sooner had the curate overtaken me than we saw either the fighting-machine we had seen before or another, far away across the meadows in the direction of Kew Lodge. Four or five little black figures hurried before it across the green-grey of the field, and in a moment it was evident this Martian pursued them. In three strides he was among them, and they ran radiating from his feet in all directions. He used no Heat-Ray to destroy them, but picked them up one by one. Apparently he tossed them into the great metallic carrier which projected behind him, much as a workman’s basket hangs over his shoulder.

Setting out a second time was the most foolishly reckless thing I ever did. It was clear that the Martians were all around us. As soon as the curate caught up with me, we saw a fighting-machine far across the meadows toward Kew Lodge. It was either the machine we had seen before or another one. Four or five small black figures hurried ahead of it across the green-grey field. A moment later, it was clear that the Martian was chasing them. In three strides, he was among them, and they scattered in every direction from his feet. He did not use the Heat-Ray to destroy them, but picked them up one by one. Apparently, he tossed them into the great metal carrier that projected behind him, like a workman's basket hanging over his shoulder.

It was the first time I realised that the Martians might have any other purpose than destruction with defeated humanity. We stood for a moment petrified, then turned and fled through a gate behind us into a walled garden, fell into, rather than found, a fortunate ditch, and lay there, scarce daring to whisper to each other until the stars were out.

For the first time, I realized that the Martians might have some purpose for defeated humanity other than destroying it. We stood frozen for a moment, then turned and fled through a gate behind us into a walled garden. We were lucky to find a ditch, though we fell into it rather than found it. We lay there until the stars came out, barely daring to whisper to each other.

I suppose it was nearly eleven o’clock before we gathered courage to start again, no longer venturing into the road, but sneaking along hedgerows and through plantations, and watching keenly through the darkness, he on the right and I on the left, for the Martians, who seemed to be all about us. In one place we blundered upon a scorched and blackened area, now cooling and ashen, and a number of scattered dead bodies of men, burned horribly about the heads and trunks but with their legs and boots mostly intact; and of dead horses, fifty feet, perhaps, behind a line of four ripped guns and smashed gun carriages.

I suppose it was nearly eleven o’clock before we found the courage to start again. We no longer dared go onto the road. Instead, we crept along hedgerows and through plantations, watching the darkness closely for Martians. He watched on the right and I on the left. The Martians seemed to be all around us. In one place, we stumbled upon a scorched and blackened area, now cooling and covered in ash. Scattered there were the bodies of several dead men. Their heads and torsos were horribly burned, but their legs and boots were mostly intact. There were also dead horses, perhaps fifty feet behind a line of four torn-apart guns and smashed gun carriages.

Sheen, it seemed, had escaped destruction, but the place was silent and deserted. Here we happened on no dead, though the night was too dark for us to see into the side roads of the place. In Sheen my companion suddenly complained of faintness and thirst, and we decided to try one of the houses.

Sheen seemed to have escaped destruction, but the place was silent and deserted. We found no dead people there, though the night was too dark for us to see into the side streets. In Sheen, my companion suddenly said he felt faint and thirsty, so we decided to try one of the houses.

The first house we entered, after a little difficulty with the window, was a small semi-detached villa, and I found nothing eatable left in the place but some mouldy cheese. There was, however, water to drink; and I took a hatchet, which promised to be useful in our next house-breaking.

We had some trouble with the window before entering the first house, a small semi-detached villa. The only food I found inside was some moldy cheese. There was water to drink, though. I also took a hatchet, which looked useful for breaking into the next house.

We then crossed to a place where the road turns towards Mortlake. Here there stood a white house within a walled garden, and in the pantry of this domicile we found a store of food—two loaves of bread in a pan, an uncooked steak, and the half of a ham. I give this catalogue so precisely because, as it happened, we were destined to subsist upon this store for the next fortnight. Bottled beer stood under a shelf, and there were two bags of haricot beans and some limp lettuces. This pantry opened into a kind of wash-up kitchen, and in this was firewood; there was also a cupboard, in which we found nearly a dozen of burgundy, tinned soups and salmon, and two tins of biscuits.

We then crossed to a place where the road turns towards Mortlake. Here, a white house stood inside a walled garden. In its pantry, we found a store of food: two loaves of bread in a pan, an uncooked steak, and half a ham. I list these items so precisely because, as it happened, we had to live on them for the next two weeks. Bottled beer stood under a shelf, and there were two bags of haricot beans and some limp lettuces. The pantry opened into a kind of kitchen for washing up, where there was firewood. There was also a cupboard containing nearly a dozen bottles of burgundy, tinned soups and salmon, and two tins of biscuits.

We sat in the adjacent kitchen in the dark—for we dared not strike a light—and ate bread and ham, and drank beer out of the same bottle. The curate, who was still timorous and restless, was now, oddly enough, for pushing on, and I was urging him to keep up his strength by eating when the thing happened that was to imprison us.

We sat in the dark kitchen next door because we did not dare light a lamp. We ate bread and ham and drank beer from the same bottle. The curate was still fearful and restless, but, oddly enough, he now wanted to press on. I was urging him to eat and keep up his strength when the thing happened that would imprison us.

“It can’t be midnight yet,” I said, and then came a blinding glare of vivid green light. Everything in the kitchen leaped out, clearly visible in green and black, and vanished again. And then followed such a concussion as I have never heard before or since. So close on the heels of this as to seem instantaneous came a thud behind me, a clash of glass, a crash and rattle of falling masonry all about us, and the plaster of the ceiling came down upon us, smashing into a multitude of fragments upon our heads. I was knocked headlong across the floor against the oven handle and stunned. I was insensible for a long time, the curate told me, and when I came to we were in darkness again, and he, with a face wet, as I found afterwards, with blood from a cut forehead, was dabbing water over me.

“It can’t be midnight yet,” I said. Then a blinding flash of vivid green light filled the kitchen. Everything stood out sharply in green and black, then vanished again. An explosion followed, louder than any I have heard before or since. Almost at the same instant, there was a thud behind me and a clash of glass. Masonry crashed and rattled down all around us. Plaster fell from the ceiling and shattered into countless pieces on our heads. I was thrown headfirst across the floor against the oven handle and was stunned. The curate told me I was unconscious for a long time. When I came to, we were in darkness again, and he was dabbing water on me. His face was wet with blood, I later learned, from a cut on his forehead.

For some time I could not recollect what had happened. Then things came to me slowly. A bruise on my temple asserted itself.

For a while, I couldn't remember what had happened. Then it slowly came back to me. I became aware of a bruise on my temple.

“Are you better?” asked the curate in a whisper.

“Are you feeling better?” the curate whispered.

At last I answered him. I sat up.

At last, I answered him. I sat up.

“Don’t move,” he said. “The floor is covered with smashed crockery from the dresser. You can’t possibly move without making a noise, and I fancy they are outside.”

“Don’t move,” he said. “The floor is covered with broken dishes from the dresser. You can’t move without making a noise, and I think they are outside.”

We both sat quite silent, so that we could scarcely hear each other breathing. Everything seemed deadly still, but once something near us, some plaster or broken brickwork, slid down with a rumbling sound. Outside and very near was an intermittent, metallic rattle.

We both sat completely silent, so we could barely hear each other breathing. Everything seemed deathly still. But once, something near us, some plaster or broken brickwork, slid down with a rumbling sound. Outside, very close by, there was a metallic rattle that came and went.

“That!” said the curate, when presently it happened again.

“That!” said the curate when it happened again a little later.

“Yes,” I said. “But what is it?”

“Yes,” I said. “But what is it?”

“A Martian!” said the curate.

“A Martian!” said the curate.

I listened again.

I listened again.

“It was not like the Heat-Ray,” I said, and for a time I was inclined to think one of the great fighting-machines had stumbled against the house, as I had seen one stumble against the tower of Shepperton Church.

“It was not like the Heat-Ray,” I said. For a while, I thought one of the great fighting-machines might have stumbled against the house. I had seen one stumble against the tower of Shepperton Church.

Our situation was so strange and incomprehensible that for three or four hours, until the dawn came, we scarcely moved. And then the light filtered in, not through the window, which remained black, but through a triangular aperture between a beam and a heap of broken bricks in the wall behind us. The interior of the kitchen we now saw greyly for the first time.

Our situation was so strange and hard to understand that we barely moved for three or four hours, until dawn came. Then light filtered in, not through the window, which remained black, but through a triangular opening in the wall behind us. The opening was between a beam and a pile of broken bricks. For the first time, we could see the kitchen's interior in the gray light.

The window had been burst in by a mass of garden mould, which flowed over the table upon which we had been sitting and lay about our feet. Outside, the soil was banked high against the house. At the top of the window frame we could see an uprooted drainpipe. The floor was littered with smashed hardware; the end of the kitchen towards the house was broken into, and since the daylight shone in there, it was evident the greater part of the house had collapsed. Contrasting vividly with this ruin was the neat dresser, stained in the fashion, pale green, and with a number of copper and tin vessels below it, the wallpaper imitating blue and white tiles, and a couple of coloured supplements fluttering from the walls above the kitchen range.

A mass of garden soil had burst through the window. It flowed over the table where we had been sitting and lay around our feet. Outside, soil was piled high against the house. At the top of the window frame, we could see an uprooted drainpipe. The floor was littered with smashed hardware. The end of the kitchen facing the house had been broken open. Daylight shone through the opening, so it was clear that most of the house had collapsed. In vivid contrast to the ruin stood a neat dresser, painted pale green in the current fashion. Several copper and tin vessels stood below it. The wallpaper imitated blue and white tiles, and two colored supplements fluttered from the walls above the kitchen range.

As the dawn grew clearer, we saw through the gap in the wall the body of a Martian, standing sentinel, I suppose, over the still glowing cylinder. At the sight of that we crawled as circumspectly as possible out of the twilight of the kitchen into the darkness of the scullery.

As dawn grew brighter, we saw a Martian through the gap in the wall. I suppose it was standing guard over the still-glowing cylinder. When we saw the Martian, we crawled as carefully as possible from the dim kitchen into the dark scullery.

Abruptly the right interpretation dawned upon my mind.

Suddenly, I understood what it really meant.

“The fifth cylinder,” I whispered, “the fifth shot from Mars, has struck this house and buried us under the ruins!”

“The fifth cylinder,” I whispered, “the fifth shot from Mars, hit this house and buried us under the rubble!”

For a time the curate was silent, and then he whispered:

For a while, the curate was silent. Then he whispered:

“God have mercy upon us!”

“God have mercy on us!”

I heard him presently whimpering to himself.

Soon, I heard him whimpering to himself.

Save for that sound we lay quite still in the scullery; I for my part scarce dared breathe, and sat with my eyes fixed on the faint light of the kitchen door. I could just see the curate’s face, a dim, oval shape, and his collar and cuffs. Outside there began a metallic hammering, then a violent hooting, and then again, after a quiet interval, a hissing like the hissing of an engine. These noises, for the most part problematical, continued intermittently, and seemed if anything to increase in number as time wore on. Presently a measured thudding and a vibration that made everything about us quiver and the vessels in the pantry ring and shift, began and continued. Once the light was eclipsed, and the ghostly kitchen doorway became absolutely dark. For many hours we must have crouched there, silent and shivering, until our tired attention failed. . . .

Apart from that sound, we lay completely still in the scullery. I hardly dared breathe and kept my eyes fixed on the faint light at the kitchen door. I could just make out the curate’s face, a dim oval shape, along with his collar and cuffs. Outside, a metallic hammering began, followed by a violent hooting. After a quiet pause, there was a hissing like the sound of an engine. These sounds, most of them hard to identify, continued on and off. If anything, they seemed to become more numerous as time passed. After a while, a steady thudding and vibration began and continued. The vibration made everything around us tremble and made the dishes in the pantry ring and shift. Once, something blocked the light, and the ghostly kitchen doorway went completely dark. We must have crouched there for many hours, silent and shivering, until we were too tired to pay attention. . . .

At last I found myself awake and very hungry. I am inclined to believe we must have spent the greater portion of a day before that awakening. My hunger was at a stride so insistent that it moved me to action. I told the curate I was going to seek food, and felt my way towards the pantry. He made me no answer, but so soon as I began eating the faint noise I made stirred him up and I heard him crawling after me.

At last I woke up, very hungry. I think we must have spent most of a day before I woke. My hunger was so intense that it drove me to act. I told the curate I was going to look for food, and felt my way to the pantry. He did not answer. But as soon as I began eating, the faint sound I made roused him. I heard him crawling after me.