The War of The Worlds by H. G. Wells BOOK
The War of The Worlds by H. G. Wells BOOK
The War of The Worlds by H. G. Wells BOOK
net
CHAPTER ONE
Before the War
In the last years of the nineteenth century, no one believed
that this world was being watched closely by intelligences
greater than our own. We had no idea that we were being
studied almost as carefully as a scientist studies the small
creatures in a drop of water. With great confidence, people
travelled around this world and believed that they were in
control of their lives. No one gave a thought to possible threats
from other planets.
At most, people believed there might be living things on
Mars, perhaps less developed than us and ready to welcome
visitors. But across the great emptiness of space, more
intelligent minds than ours looked at this Earth with jealous
eyes, and slowly and surely made their plans against us. And
early in the twentieth century, the great shock came.
The planet Mars, I need not remind the reader, goes
around the sun at an average distance of 224,000,000
kilometres, and receives from the sun half of the light and heat
that is received by this world. It must be, if scientific thinking
is correct, older than our world, and life on its surface began a
long time before this Earth cooled down. Because it is hardly
one seventh of the size of Earth, it cooled more quickly to the
temperature at which life could begin. It has air and water and
all that is necessary to support living things.
But people are so blind that no writer, before the end of
the nineteenth century, suggested that much more intelligent
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more developed than ours. During 1894, a great light was seen
on the surface of the planet by a number of astronomers. I now
believe that this was a fire built to make an enormous gun in a
very deep pit. From this gun, their shots were fired at us.
The attack came six years ago. Towards midnight on 12
August, one astronomer noticed a great cloud of hot gas on the
surface of the planet. In fact, he compared it to the burning
gases that might rush out from a gun.
This, we now know, was a very accurate description.
However, the next day there was no report in the newspapers
except one small note in the Daily Telegraph, and the world
knew nothing of one of the greatest dangers that ever
threatened Earth.
I do not think I would have known anything about it
myself if I had not met Ogilvy, the well-known astronomer. He
was very excited at the news and invited me to spend the night
with him, watching the red planet.
Despite everything that has happened since, I still
remember that night very clearly. Looking through the
telescope, I saw a circle of deep blue with the little round
planet in the centre. Because it was so small, I did not see the
Thing they were sending us, which was flying quickly towards
me across that great distance. I never dreamed of it then, as I
watched. Nobody on Earth knew anything about the
approaching missile.
That night, too, there was another sudden cloud of gas
from the distant planet as a second missile started on its way to
Earth from Mars, just under twenty-four hours after the first
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one. I saw a reddish flash at the edge, the slightest bend in its
shape, as the clock struck midnight.
I remember how I sat there in the blackness, not
suspecting the meaning of the tiny light I had seen and all the
trouble that it would cause me. I told Ogilvy, and he took my
place and watched the cloud of gas growing as it rose from the
surface of the planet. He watched until one, and then we lit the
lamp and walked over to his house.
Hundreds of observers saw the flame that night and the
following night, at about midnight, and again the night after
that. For ten nights they saw a flame each night. No one on
Earth has attempted to explain why the shots ended after this. It
may be that the gases from the firing caused the Martians
inconvenience. Thick clouds of smoke or dust, which looked
like little grey, moving spots through a powerful telescope on
Earth, spread through the clearness of the planet's atmosphere
and hid its more familiar features.
Even the daily papers woke up to these events at last, and
there was much discussion of their cause. But no one suspected
the truth, that the Martians had fired missiles, which were now
rushing towards us at a speed of many kilometres a second
across the great emptiness of space.
It seems to me almost unbelievably wonderful that, with
that danger threatening us, people could continue their ordinary
business as they did. One night, when the first missile was
probably less than 15,000,000 kilometres away, I went for a
walk with my wife. I pointed out Mars, a bright spot of light
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CHAPTER TWO
The Falling Star
Only a few nights later, the first falling star was seen
towards the east. Denning, our greatest astronomer, said that
the height of its first appearance was about one hundred and
fifty kilometres. It seemed to him that it fell to Earth about a
hundred kilometres east of him.
I was at home at the time and writing in my study with
the curtains open. If I had looked up I would have seen the
strangest thing that ever fell to Earth from space, but I did not.
Many people in that part of England saw it, and simply thought
that another meteorite had fallen. Nobody went to look for the
fallen star that night.
But poor Ogilvy had seen it fall and so he got up very
early with the idea of finding it. This he did, soon after dawn.
An enormous hole had been made and the Earth had been
thrown violently in every direction, forming piles that could be
seen two kilometres away.
The Thing itself lay almost completely buried in the earth.
The uncovered part looked like an enormous cylinder, about
thirty metres across each end. It was covered with a thick burnt
skin, which softened its edges. He approached it, surprised at
the size and even more surprised at the shape, since most
meteorites are fairly round. It was, however, still very hot from
its flight through the air and he could not get close to it. He
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could hear movement from inside but thought this was due to it
cooling down. He did not imagine that it might be hollow.
He remained standing on one side of the pit that the Thing
had made for itself, staring at its strange appearance and
thinking that there might be some intelligent design in its
shape. He was alone on the common.
Then suddenly, he noticed that some of the burnt skin was
falling off the round edge at the end. A large piece suddenly
came off with a sharp noise that brought his heart into his
mouth. For a minute he hardly realized what this meant, and
although the heat was great, he climbed down into the pit to see
the cylinder more closely. He realized that, very slowly, the
round top of the cylinder was turning.
Even then he hardly understood what was happening,
until he heard another sound and saw the black mark jump
forwards a little. Then he suddenly understood. The cylinder
was artificial - hollow - with an end that screwed out!
Something inside the cylinder was unscrewing the top!
'Good heavens!' said Ogilvy. 'There's a man in it - men in
it! Half burnt to death! Trying to escape!'
At once, thinking quickly, he connected the Thing with
the flash on Mars.
The thought of the creature trapped inside was so terrible
to him that he forgot the heat, and went forwards to the
cylinder to help. But luckily the heat stopped him before he
could get his hands on the metal. He stood undecided for a
moment, then climbed out of the pit and started to run into
Woking.
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The time then was around six o'clock. He met some local
people who were up early, but the story he told and his
appearance were so wild that they would not listen to him. That
quieted him a little, and when he saw Henderson, the London
journalist, in his garden, he shouted over the fence and made
himself understood.
'Henderson,' he called, 'you saw that meteorite last night?'
'Yes,' said Henderson. 'What about it?'
'It's out on Horsell Common now.'
'Fallen meteorite!' said Henderson. 'That's good.'
'But it's something more than a meteorite. It's a cylinder -
an artificial cylinder! And there's something inside.'
'What did you say?' he asked. He was deaf in one ear.
When Ogilvy told him all he had seen, Henderson
dropped his spade, put on his jacket and came out into the road.
The two men hurried back at once to the common, and found
the cylinder still lying in the same position. But now the sounds
inside had stopped, and a thin circle of bright metal showed
between its top and body.
They listened, knocked on the burnt metal with a rock
and, getting no answer, they both decided that the men inside
were either unconscious or dead.
Of course the two were quite unable to do anything, so
they went back to the town again to get help. Henderson went
to the railway station at once, to send a telegram to London.
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CHAPTER THREE
The Cylinder Opens
When I returned to the common, the sun was setting.
Groups of people were hurrying from the direction of Woking.
The crowd around the pit had increased to a couple of hundred
people, perhaps. There were raised voices, and some sort of
struggle appeared to be going on around the pit. As I got nearer,
I heard Stent's voice:
'Keep back! Keep back! '
A boy came running towards me.
'It's moving,' he said to me as he passed, '- unscrewing
and unscrewing. I don't like it. I'm going home.'
I went on to the crowd and pushed my way through.
Everyone seemed greatly excited. I heard a peculiar humming
sound from the pit.
'Keep those fools back,' said Ogilvy. 'We don't know
what's in the Thing, you know.'
I saw a young man - I believe he was a shop assistant in
Woking - standing on the cylinder and trying to climb out of
the pit again. The crowd had pushed him in.
The end of the cylinder was being screwed out from
within. Nearly half a meter of shining screw stuck out.
Someone pushed against me, and I almost fell down on top of
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the screw. I turned, and as I did the screw came out and the lid
of the cylinder fell onto the sand with a ringing sound. I
pressed back against the person behind me, and turned my head
towards the Thing again. I had the sunset in my eyes and for a
moment the round hole seemed black.
I think everyone expected to see a man come out -
possibly something a little unlike us on Earth, but more or less
a man. I know I did. But, looking, I soon saw something grey
moving within the shadow, then two shining circles - like eyes.
Then something like a little grey snake, about the thickness of a
walking-stick, came out of the middle and moved through the
air towards me - and then another.
I suddenly felt very cold. There was a loud scream from a
woman behind. I half-turned, still keeping my eyes on the
cylinder, from which other tentacles were now coming out, and
began pushing my way back from the side of the pit. I saw
shock changing to horror on the faces of the people around me,
and there was a general movement backwards. I found myself
alone, and saw the people on the other side of the pit running
off. I looked again at the cylinder, and felt great terror.
A big, greyish round creature, the size, perhaps, of a bear,
was rising slowly and painfully out of the cylinder. As it moved
up and caught the light, it shone like wet leather. Two large
dark- colored eyes were looking at me steadily. The head of the
thing was rounded and had, one could say, a face. There was a
mouth under the eyes, and its lipless edge shone wetly. The
whole creature was breathing heavily. One tentacle held onto
the cylinder; another moved in the air.
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full circle, it would have killed me. But it passed and let me
live, and left the night around me suddenly dark and unfamiliar.
There was nobody else around. Overhead the stars were
coming out, and in the west the sky was still a pale, bright,
almost greenish blue. The tops of the trees and the roofs of
Horsell were sharp and black against the western sky. Areas of
bush and a few trees still smoked, and the houses towards
Woking station were sending up tongues of flame into the
stillness of the evening air.
I realized that I was helpless and alone on this dark
common. Suddenly, like a thing falling on me from above,
came fear. With an effort I turned and began an unsteady run
through the grass.
The fear I felt was panic - terror not only of the Martians
but of the dark and stillness all around me. I ran crying silently
as a child might do. After I had turned, I did not dare look
back.
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CHAPTER FOUR
Mars Attacks
I ran until I was totally exhausted and I fell down beside
the road. That was near the bridge by the gas-works.
I remained there for some time.
Eventually I sat up, strangely puzzled. For a moment,
perhaps, I could not clearly understand how I came there. My
terror had fallen from me like a piece of clothing. A few
minutes earlier there had only been three things in my mind:
the great size of the night and space and nature, my own
weakness and unhappiness, and the near approach of death.
Now I was my normal self again - an ordinary citizen. The
silent common, my escape, the flames, seemed like a dream. I
asked myself if these things had really happened. I could not
believe it.
I got up and walked up the steep slope to the bridge. My
body seemed to have lost its strength. The figure of a workman
carrying a basket appeared. Beside him ran a little boy He
passed me, wishing me good-night. I thought about speaking to
him, but did not. I answered his greeting and went on over the
bridge.
Two men and a woman were talking at the gate of one of
the houses. I stopped.
'What news from the common?' I said.
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course, and talked about it, but it did not have as much effect as
a political event.
Even within the five - kilometer circle, most people were
unaffected. I have already described the behaviour of the
people to whom I spoke. All over the district people were
eating dinner. Men were gardening, children were being put to
bed, young people were out walking together.
Maybe there was talk in the village streets, a new topic in
the pubs - and here and there a messenger, or even an eye-
witness of the later events, caused some excitement. However,
for most of the time the daily routine of work, food, drink and
sleep went on as it had done for countless years.
People came to the common and left it, but all the time a
crowd remained. One or two adventurous people went into the
darkness and crawled quite near the Martians, but they never
returned, because now and again a light-ray swept round the
common, and the Heat-Ray was ready to follow. And all night
the sound of hammering could be heard as the Martians worked
on the machines they were making ready.
At about eleven, a company of soldiers came through
Horsell and spread out in a great circle around the common.
Several officers had been on the common earlier in the day and
one was reported to be missing. Another one arrived and was
busy questioning the crowd at midnight. The army was
certainly taking things seriously.
A few seconds after midnight the crowd in the Chertsey
Road, Woking, saw a star fall from the sky into the woods to
the north-west. This was the second cylinder.
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CHAPTER FIVE
Running Away
Leatherhead is about twenty kilometres from Maybury.
We got there without any problems at about nine o'clock, and
the horse had an hour's rest while I had supper with my cousins
and left my wife in their care.
My wife was strangely silent during the drive, and
seemed very worried. If I had not made a promise to the pub
owner, she would, I think, have asked me to stay in
Leatherhead that night. Her face, I remember, was very white
as I drove away.
My feelings were quite different. I had been very excited
all day and I was not sorry that I had to return to Maybury. I
was even afraid that the last shots I had heard might mean the
end of our visitors from Mars. I wanted to be there at the death.
The night was unexpectedly dark, and it was as hot and
airless as the day. Overhead the clouds were passing fast,
mixed here and there with clouds of black and red smoke,
although no wind moved the bushes around me. I heard a
church strike midnight, and then I saw Maybury Hill, with its
tree-tops and roofs black and sharp against the red sky.
At that moment a bright green light lit up the road around
me and showed the distant woods to the north. I saw a line of
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green fire pass through the moving clouds and into the field to
my left. It was the third cylinder!
Just after this came the first lightning of the storm, and
the thunder burst like a gun overhead. The horse ran forwards
in terror at high speed.
There is a gentle slope towards the foot of Maybury Hill,
and down this we went. After the lightning had begun, it
flashed again and again, as quickly as I have ever seen. The
thunder crashed almost all the time. The flashing light was
blinding and confusing, and thin rain hit my face as I drove
down the slope.
I paid little attention to the road in front of me, and then
suddenly my attention was caught by something. At first I
thought it was the wet roof of a house, but the lightning flashes
showed that it was moving quickly down Maybury Hill. Then
there was a great flash like daylight and this strange object
could be seen clearly.
How can I describe this Thing that I saw? It was an
enormous tripod, higher than many houses, stepping over the
young trees. It was a walking engine of shining metal.
Then suddenly, the trees in the wood ahead of me were
pushed to the side and a second enormous tripod appeared,
rushing, as it seemed, straight towards me. And I was driving
fast to meet it. At the sight of this second machine I panicked
completely. I pulled my horse's head hard round to the right.
The cart turned over on the horse and I was thrown sideways. I
fell heavily into a shallow pool of water.
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Then the lightning flashed again and I saw his face. It was the
owner of the pub, whose cart I had taken.
I stepped over him nervously and moved on up the hill.
Towards Maybury Bridge there were voices and the sound of
feet, but I did not have the courage to shout or go to them. I let
myself into my house and locked the door, walked to the
bottom of the stairs and sat down, shaking violently.
It was some time before I could get to my feet again and
put on some dry clothes. After that I went upstairs to my study.
The window looks over the trees and the railway towards
Horsell Common. In the hurry to leave it had been left open. I
stopped in the doorway, at a safe distance from it.
The thunderstorm had passed. The towers of the Oriental
College and the trees around it had gone. Very far away, lit by
red fire, the common was visible. Across the light, great black
shapes moved busily backwards and forwards.
I closed the door noiselessly and moved nearer the
window. The view opened out until, on one side, it reached to
the houses around Woking Station, and on the other, to the
burnt woods of Byfleet. Between them were areas of fire and
smoking ground. The view reminded me, more than anything
else, of factories at night.
I turned my desk chair to the window and stared out at the
country and, in particular, at the three enormous black Things
that were moving around the common. They seemed very busy.
I began to ask myself what they could be. Were they intelligent
machines? I felt this was impossible. Or did a Martian sit inside
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CHAPTER SIX
The Death of Towns
As the dawn grew brighter, we moved back from the
window where we had watched and went very quietly
downstairs.
The soldier agreed with me that the house was not a good
place to stay in. He suggested going towards London, where he
could rejoin his company. My plan was to return at once to
Leatherhead. The strength of the Martians worried me so much
that I had decided to take my wife to the south coast, and leave
the country with her immediately. I had already decided that
the area around London would be the scene of a great battle
before the Martians could be destroyed.
Between us and Leatherhead, however, lay the third
cylinder. If I had been alone, I think I would have taken my
chance and gone straight across country. But the soldier
persuaded me not to. 'It's no kindness to your wife,' he said, 'for
you to get killed.' In the end I agreed to go north with him
under cover of the woods. After that I would leave him and
turn off to reach Leatherhead.
I wanted to start at once, but the soldier had been in wars
before and knew better than that. He made me find all the food
and drink that we could carry, and we filled our pockets. Then
we left the house and ran as quickly as we could down the
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narrow road. All the houses seemed empty. In the road lay a
pile of three burnt bodies close together, killed by the Heat-
Ray. In fact, apart from ourselves, there did not seem to be a
living person on Maybury Hill.
We reached the woods at the foot of the hill and moved
through these towards the road. As we ran, we heard the sound
of horses and saw through the trees three soldiers riding
towards Woking. We shouted and they stopped while we
hurried towards them. They were an officer and two men.
'You are the first people I've seen coming this way this
morning,' the officer said. 'What's happening?'
The soldier who had stayed with me stepped up to him.
'My gun was destroyed last night, sir. I've been hiding. I'm
trying to rejoin my company. You'll come in sight of the
Martians, I expect, about a kilometer along this road.'
'What do they look like?' asked the officer.
'Big machines, sir. Thirty metres high. Three legs and a
great big head, sir.'
'What nonsense!' said the officer.
'You'll see, sir. They carry a kind of box that shoots fire
and strikes you dead.'
'What do you mean - a gun?'
'No, sir.' And he began to describe the Heat-Ray.
Half-way through his report the officer interrupted him
and looked at me.
'Did you see it?' he said.
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CHAPTER SEVEN
In London
My younger brother was in London when the Martians
fell at Woking. He was a medical student, working for an
examination, and he heard nothing of the arrival until Saturday
morning. The morning papers on Saturday contained, in
addition to a great deal of information about the planet Mars,
one very short report.
The Martians, alarmed by the approach of a crowd, had
killed a number of people with a quick-firing gun, the story
said. It ended with the words, 'Although they seem frightening,
the Martians have not moved from the pit into which they have
fallen, and don't seem able to do so.'
Even the afternoon papers had nothing to tell apart from
the movement of soldiers around the common, and the burning
of the woods between Woking and Weybridge. Nothing more
of the fighting was known that night, the night of my drive to
Leatherhead and back.
My brother was not worried about us, as he knew from
the description in the papers chat the cylinder was three
kilometres from my house. That night he made up his mind to
visit me, in order to see the Things before they were killed. He
sent a telegram, which never reached me.
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after that the police arrived and began to move the crowd out of
the station, and my brother went out into the street again.
On Waterloo Bridge a number of people were watching
an odd brown liquid that came down the river from time to
time. The sun was just setting and the Houses of Parliament
stood against a peaceful sky. There was talk of a floating body.
In Wellington Street my brother met two men selling
newspapers which had just been printed. The advertising
boards said, 'Terrible tragedy! Fighting at Weybridge! Defeat of
the Martians! London in danger!' He bought a paper.
Then, and only then, he understood something of the full
power and terror of the Martians. He learned that they were not
just a few small crawling creatures, but that they could control
enormous mechanical bodies. They could move quickly and
strike with such power that even the biggest guns could not
stand against them. They were described as, 'great machines
like spiders, nearly thirty metres high, as fast as an express
train, and able to shoot out a beam of strong heat.'
Many field-guns, the report said, had been hidden around
the country near Horsell Common, and especially between the
Woking district and London. Five of the machines had been
seen moving towards the Thames and one, by a lucky chance,
had been destroyed. In other cases the shells had missed, and
the guns had at once been destroyed by the Heat-Rays. Heavy
losses of soldiers were mentioned, but in general the report was
optimistic.
The Martians had been defeated, my brother read. They
had gone back to their cylinders again, in the circle around
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CHAPTER EIGHT
The Black Smoke
While the curate had sat and talked so wildly to me in the
flat fields near Walton, and while my brother was watching the
refugees pour across Westminster Bridge, the Martians had
started to attack again. As it was reported later, most of them
remained busy with preparations in the pit on Horsell Common
until nine that night, doing something that produced a great
amount of Black Smoke.
But three certainly came out at about eight o'clock. They
moved forwards slowly and carefully towards Ripley and
Weybridge, and so came in sight of the waiting guns. These
Martians moved in a line, perhaps two kilometres apart. They
communicated with each other by loud howls.
It was this howling and the firing of the guns at Ripley
and Weybridge that we heard at Walton. The Ripley gunners
had never been in action before. The guns fired one ineffective
shell each, then the soldiers ran away. The Martian, without
using his Heat-Ray, walked calmly over their guns.
The Weybridge men, however, were better led or were
more experienced. Hidden by a wood, it seems they were not
noticed by the Martian nearest to them. They aimed their guns
well and fired at a distance of about one kilometer.
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Martian and I crawled into some bushes by the side of the road.
He looked back and turned to join me.
We heard the distant sound of a gun, then another nearer,
and then another. And then the Martian closest to us raised his
tube and fired it towards the guns, with a loud bang that made
the ground shake. The other one did the same. There was no
flash, no smoke, simply a loud noise.
I was so excited by all this that I completely forgot about
my persona safety and raised my head out of the bushes. As I
did, I heard another bang and something flew fast over my
head. I expected at least to see smoke or fire, but there was
only the deep-blue sky above and one single star. There had
been no explosion, no answer from the guns. Silence returned,
and three minutes passed.
'What's happened?' said the curate, standing up.
'I've no idea,' I answered.
I looked again at the Martian, and saw that it was now
moving east along the river bank. Every moment I expected a
hidden gun to fire at it, but the evening calm was unbroken.
The figure of the Martian grew smaller as it moved away, and
soon it was hidden by the mist and the coming night. The
curate and I climbed higher up the hill and looked around.
Towards Sunbury there was something dark, like a hill, hiding
our view of the country further away. Then, far across the river,
we saw another, similar hill. These hills grew lower and
broader as we stared.
I had a sudden thought and looked to the north, and there
I saw a third of these cloudy black hills.
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They did this to the black clouds near us, as we saw in the
starlight from the upper window of an empty house. From there
we could see the searchlights on Richmond Hill and Kingston
Hill moving in the sky, and at about eleven the windows shook,
and we heard the sound of the large guns that had been put in
position there. These continued for a quarter of an hour, firing
blindly at Martians too far away to be seen. Then the fourth
cylinder fell - a bright green star to the north-east.
So, doing it methodically, as a man might kill insects, the
Martians spread this strange killing smoke over the country
towards London. The ends of the curve slowly moved apart,
until at least they formed a line about twelve kilometres long.
All through the night their tubes moved forwards. They
never gave the guns any chance against them. Wherever there
was a possibility of guns being hidden, they fired a cylinder of
Black Smoke at them, and where the guns could be seen they
used the Heat-Ray.
By midnight the burning trees along the slopes of
Richmond Hill lit up clouds of Black Smoke which covered the
whole valley of the Thames, and went as far as the eye could
see.
They only used the Heat-Ray from time to time that night,
either because they had a limited supply of material for its
production or because they did not want to destroy the country,
but only to defeat its people. They certainly succeeded. Sunday
night was the end of organized opposition to their movement.
After that no group of men would stand against them,
because this would mean almost certain death.
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CHAPTER NINE
Escape
You can understand the wave of fear that swept through
the greatest city in the world at dawn on Monday morning.
People ran to the railway stations, to the boats on the Thames,
and hurried by even street that went north or east. By ten
o'clock the police were finding it hard to keep control.
All the railway lines north of the Thames had been
warned by midnight on Sunday, and trains were being filled.
Passengers were fighting for standing room in the carriages
even at two o'clock in the morning. By three the crowds were
so large around the stations that people were being pushed over
and walked on. Guns were fired and knives were used. The
police who had been sent to direct the traffic, exhausted and
angry, were fighting with the people they had been called out to
protect.
And as time passed and the engine drivers and firemen
refused to return to London, the people turned in growing
crowds away from the stations and onto the roads running
north. By midday a cloud of slowly sinking Black Smoke had
moved along the Thames, cutting off all escape across the
bridges. Another cloud came over Ealing, and surrounded a
little island of people on Castle Hill, alive but unable to escape.
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in front of them. There was a sharp bend in the road, less than
fifty metres from the crossroads. When they came out of it Mrs
Elphinstone said. 'Good heavens! What is this you are driving
us into'"
My brother stopped the horse.
The main road was a boiling stream of people, a river of
human beings rushing to the north. A great cloud of dust, white
under the strong sun, made everything within five metres of the
ground grey and unclear. More dust was raised all the time by
the thick crowd of men and women, horses and vehicles.
'Go on! Go on!' the voices said. 'They're coming.'
It seemed that the whole population of London was
moving north. There were people of every class and profession,
but they were all dusty; their skins were dry, their lips black
and cracked, and all of them looked very afraid.
My brother saw Miss Elphinstone covering her eyes.
'Let's go back!' he shouted. 'We cannot cross this.'
They went back a hundred metres in the direction they
had come. As they passed the bend in the road, my brother saw
a man lying not far away. His face was white and shining. It
was clear that he was near death. The two women sat in
silence.
Beyond the bend my brother changed his mind. He turned
to Miss Elphinstone. 'We must go that way,' he said, and turned
the horse round again.
For the second time that day the girl showed her courage.
My brother went into the crowd and stopped a horse pulling a
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CHAPTER TEN
The Thunder Child
If the Martians had only wanted destruction, they could
have killed the whole population of London on Monday, as it
moved out slowly through the neighboring countryside. It one
had flown over London that morning, every road to the north or
east would have seemed black with moving refugees, everyone
a frightened and exhausted human being.
None of the wars of history had such an effect - six
million people, moving without weapons or food or any real
sense of direction. It was the start of the death of the human
race.
And over the blue hills to the south of the river, the
Martians moved backwards and forwards, calmly spreading
their poison clouds over one piece of country and then over
another. They destroyed any weapons they found and wrecked
the railways here and there. They seemed in no hurry, and did
not go beyond the central part of London all that day. It is
possible that many people stayed in their houses through
Monday morning. It is certain that many died at home, killed
by the Black Smoke.
Until about midday there were still many ships on the
Thames, attracted by the enormous sums of money offered by
refugees. It is said that many who swam out to these ships were
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muddy coast from the south. The captain swore at the top of his
voice at his own delay, and the ship increased speed.
It was the first Martian that my brother had seen, and he
stood, more amazed than frightened, as it moved steadily
towards the ships, walking further and further into the water.
Then, far away, another appeared, stepping over some small
trees, and then another could be seen even further away,
crossing the flat mud that lay between the sea and the sky.
Looking to the north-east, my brother saw the long line of
ships already moving away from the approaching terror. One
ship was passing behind another; many were turning.
Steamships whistled and sent up clouds of steam, sails were let
out and small boats rushed here and there. He was so interested
in this that he did not look out to sea. And then a quick
movement of the steamboat (which had turned to avoid being
hit) threw him off the seat on which he had been standing.
There was shouting all around him. a movement of feet and a
cheer that seemed to be answered.
He got to his feet and saw to the right, less than a hundred
metres away, the warship cutting through the water at full
speed, throwing enormous waves out on either side.
Some water came over the side of the steamboat and
blinded my brother for a moment. When his eyes were clear
again, the warship had passed and was rushing towards the
land. He looked past it at the Martians again and saw the three
of them now close together, and standing so far out to sea that
their legs were almost completely under water.
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
Earth Under the Martians
In the last two chapters I have moved away from my own
adventures to tell of the experiences of my brother. All through
this time I and the curate had been hiding in the empty house
where we went to escape the Black Smoke. We stayed 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 only wait and be bored during those
two days.
I was very worried about my wife. I thought of her in
Leatherhead, frightened, in danger, thinking of me already as a
dead man. I knew my cousin was brave enough for any
emergency, but he was not the sort of man to understand
danger quickly and do something about it. These worries
stayed on my mind and I grew very tired of the curate's
constant talking. After trying and failing to keep him quiet, I
kept away from him in other rooms in the house.
We were surrounded by the Black Smoke all that day and
the following morning. There were signs of people in the next
house on Sunday evening - a face at a window and moving
lights, and later the closing of a door. But I do not know who
these people were or what happened to them. We saw nothing
of them the next day. The Black Smoke moved slowly towards
the river all through Monday morning, slowly getting nearer
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and nearer to us, coming at last along the road outside the
house that hid us.
A Martian walked across the fields at about midday,
killing the stuff with steam. When we looked out I saw the
country covered with black dust, but we were no longer
trapped. As soon as I saw that escape was possible, my dream
of action returned. But the curate did not want to leave.
'We are safe here - safe here,' he repeated.
I decided to leave him. The soldier had taught me well
and I looked for food and drink and a spare shirt to take with
me. When it was clear to the curate that I intended to go alone,
he suddenly decided to come. Everything was quiet through the
afternoon and we started at about five o'clock along the
blackened road to Sunbury.
Here and there along the road, and in Sunbury itself, were
dead bodies of horses as well as men, turned-over carts and
luggage, all covered thickly with black dust. As we passed
other small towns, we found them unaffected by either Heat-
Ray or Black Smoke, and there were some people alive,
although none could give us news. Here too, there were signs
of quick departure. I remember a pile of three broken bicycles,
flattened by the wheels of passing carts. We crossed Richmond
Bridge at about half-past eight. Once again, on the Surrey side,
there was black dust that had once been smoke, and some dead
bodies - a number of them near the approach to the station.
Then suddenly, as we walked north, we saw some people
running. The top of a Martian fighting-machine came into sight
over the house tops, less than a hundred metres away from us.
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raw steak and some cooked meat. Under a shelf we found some
bottled beer, and there were two bags of green beans and some
lettuce. In a cupboard there was some tinned soup and fish and
two tins of cake. I am listing these exactly because we lived on
this food for the next fortnight.
We sat in the kitchen in the dark and had a meal of cold
food, and just before midnight there was a blinding flash of
green light followed by the loudest bang I have ever heard.
There was a crash of glass, the sound of falling walls, and then
the ceiling fell down in pieces on our heads. I was knocked
across the floor and my head hit the oven. I lay there
unconscious for a long time, the curate told me, and when I
woke up he was wiping my face with a wet handkerchief.
For some time I could not remember what had happened.
'Are you better?' he asked.
At last I answered him. I sat up.
'Don't move,' he said. 'The floor is covered with broken
plates. You can't possibly move without making a noise, and I
think they are outside.'
We both sat in complete silence, so we could hardly hear
each other breathing. Outside and very near was the noise from
a machine, which started and stopped.
'What is it?' I asked.
'A Martian!' said the curate.
Our situation was so strange and unbelievable that for
three or four hours, until the dawn came, we hardly moved.
And then the light came, not through the window, which was
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filled with earth from the garden, but through a small hole that
had been knocked in the wall. Through this we saw the body of
a Martian, watching a cylinder which was still red with heat.
When we saw that, we moved as slowly as possible out of the
grey light of the kitchen and into the darkness of the hall.
Suddenly, the truth came to me.
'The fifth cylinder!' I whispered. 'It's hit this house and
buried us under the ruins!'
For a time the curate was silent, then he said, 'God help
us!'
For hours we lay there in the darkness, while from outside
came the sounds of hammering and then, after some time, a
sound like an engine. Towards the end of the day I found that I
was very hungry. I told the curate that I was going to look for
food, and moved back into the kitchen again. He did not
answer, but as soon as I began eating I heard him crawling
towards me.
After eating we went back to the hall, and I fell asleep.
When I woke up and looked around I was alone. I crawled back
into the kitchen and saw him lying down and looking out of the
hole at the Martians.
The noises still continued. Through the hole I could see
the top of a tree, turned to gold by the evening sun. I stepped
carefully through the broken plates that covered the floor.
I touched the curate's leg, and he moved so suddenly that
some bricks slid down outside with a loud crash. I took hold of
his arm, afraid that he might cry out, and for a long time we
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have never seen these things can hardly understand how alive
they looked.
I had seen the Martians themselves once before, but only
for a short time, and then the sight had almost made me sick.
Now I was more used to them, and was in a good position with
a lot of time to study them properly. They were the strangest
creatures it is possible to imagine. They had large, round bodies
- or perhaps heads - about a metre and a half across. Each body
had a face in front of it. This face had no nose - I do not think
they had any sense of smell - but it had a pair of very large,
dark eyes, and just beneath these a kind of v-shaped mouth. In
the back of the head, or body - I do not really know what to call
it - there was a flat surface like the skin of a drum, which we
now know worked as an ear. Around the mouth were sixteen
thin, whip-like tentacles, arranged in two groups of eight.
These worked like hands.
As I watched the Martians, they seemed to be trying to
raise themselves on the hands, but with their increased weight
on Earth this was impossible. It may be that on Mars they
moved around on them quite easily.
Most of the space inside their bodies was taken by the
brain. Besides this they had a heart, but they had no stomach
because they did not eat. Instead, they took fresh blood from
living creatures and used a tube to put it straight into their own
bodies. This idea seems horrible to us, but at the same time I
think we should remember how disgusting our meat-eating
habits would seem to an intelligent rabbit.
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the cylinder into a shape that was very like its own. Down on
the left a busy little digging-machine could be seen, sending
out small clouds of green smoke and working its way round the
pit, making it bigger and piling the earth up over the top. This
was what had caused the regular heating noise. It whistled as it
worked, and no Martian seemed to be controlling it.
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CHAPTER TWELVE
In the Ruined House
The arrival of a second fighting-machine made us move
back out of the kitchen into the hall, because we were afraid
that from that height the Martian might see us through the hole.
At a later date we began to feel less in danger of being seen
because the sunlight outside was very bright, but at first
anything approaching the house drove us back into the hall in
fear. However, despite the danger, we could not prevent
ourselves from going back to look again and again. In our
desire to watch, we even fought each other within a few
centimeters of being seen.
We were very different people with different habits of
thought and action, and those differences increased because we
were living together in this dangerous place. The curate talked
endlessly, and this prevented me from forming a plan of action.
He had no self-control at all and sometimes cried for
hours at a time. He ate more than I did, and did not seem to
understand that we had to stay in the house until the Martians
had finished their work if we wanted to stay alive. I tried
threatening him, and in the end I hit him. That worked for some
time.
The curate was watching through the hole when the first
men were brought there. I was sitting near him, listening hard.
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close and trying to move me away from the pit, the curate had
gone back into the hall. I followed him quickly and quietly and
in the darkness I heard him drinking. I put my hand out and my
fingers closed around a bottle of wine.
For a few minutes we fought together. The bottle hit the
floor and broke, and I stopped fighting and got up. We stood
breathing heavily, staring at each other. In the end I moved
between him and the food and told him that I was going to take
control.
I divided the food in the cupboard into separate amounts
to last us ten days. I would not let him eat any more that day. In
the afternoon he tried to get some food. I had been asleep but in
a moment I was awake. All day and all night we sat face to
face. I was tired but would not give up, and he cried and
complained about his immediate hunger. The rest of the time he
just talked to himself, and I began to realize that he had gone
completely mad.
Through the eighth and ninth days his voice grew louder.
He threatened me, begged me, and this was mixed with a great
deal of talk about his service to God. Then he slept for some
time and began again with even more strength, so loudly that I
had to try to stop him.
'Be still!' I demanded.
He rose to his knees. 'I have been still too long,' he said,
loud enough for the Martians to hear, 'and now I must tell the
world. This place will be destroyed because of the bad things
we have done!'
'Shut up!' I said, getting to my feet. 'Please -'
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Man on Putney Hill
I spent that night in the pub that stands on the top of
Putney Hill, sleeping in a made bed for the first time since I
had run away to Leatherhead. I broke into the house - and
afterwards found that the front door was unlocked. I searched
every room for food until, when I was ready to give up, I found
some bread and two tins of fruit in one of the bedrooms. The
place had already been searched and emptied. Later, in the bar,
I found some sandwiches that no one had noticed. I ate some of
these and put the rest in my pockets.
I lit no lamps, afraid that a Martian might come through
that part of London looking for food in the night. Before I went
to bed I was very restless and went from window to window,
looking out for some sign of them. I slept little. As I lay in bed,
I found myself thinking of the killing of the curate.
I had no regrets about this, but in the stillness of the night,
with a sense that God was near, I thought again of every part of
our conversation from the time we had first met. We had been
unable to co-operate. If I had known, I would have left him at
Walton, but I had not been able to see ahead. Nobody saw me
kill him, but I have described it here and the reader can make a
judgement.
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The morning was bright and fine and there were little
golden clouds in the eastern sky. In the road that runs from the
top of Putney Hill to Wimbledon many things had been left
behind by the crowds that ran towards London on the Sunday
night after the fighting began. There was a little two-wheeled
cart with a broken wheel. It had the name of a shop written on
it. There was a hat lying in the mud, and a lot of broken glass
with blood on it.
I moved slowly because I was very tired and my plans
were uncertain. I had an idea of going to Leatherhead, although
I knew there was little chance of finding my wife there.
Certainly, unless they had been killed, she and my cousins
would have run away.
I came to the edge of Wimbledon Common and stood
there, under cover of some trees and bushes. It stretched far and
wide and I hesitated on the edge of that large open space. Soon
I had an odd feeling of being watched and, turning suddenly, I
saw something hiding in some of the bushes. I took a step
towards it, and it rose up and became a man armed with a
sword. I approached him slowly. He stood silently, watching
me but not moving.
As I came nearer, I saw that he was dressed in clothes as
dusty and dirty as my own. His black hair fell over his eyes,
and his face was dark and dirty and thin, so at first I did not
recognize him.
'Stop!' he cried, when I was within ten metres of him, and
I stopped. 'Where have you come from?' he said.
I thought, watching him.
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'I have come from Sheen,' I said. 'I was buried near the pit
the Martians made around their cylinder. I have escaped.'
'There is no food around here,' he said. 'This is my
country: all this hill down to the river and up to the edge of the
common. There is only food for one. Which way are you
going?'
'I don't know,' I said.
He looked at me uncertainly, then his expression suddenly
changed. He pointed at me.
'It's you,' he said,'- the man from Woking. And you
weren't killed at Weybridge?'
I recognized him at the same moment.
'You're the soldier who came into my garden.'
'What luck!' he said. 'We are lucky ones!'
He put out a hand and I took it.
'I hid,' he said. 'But they didn't kill everyone. And after
they went away, I went towards Walton across the fields. But -
it's only been sixteen days and your hair is grey.' He looked
over his shoulder suddenly. 'Only a bird,' he said. 'This is a bit
open. Let's crawl under those bushes and talk.'
'Have you seen any Martians?' I asked. 'Since I got out-'
'They've gone away across London,' he said. 'I guess
they've got a bigger camp there. The night before last I saw
some lights up in the air. I believe they've built a flying-
machine and are learning to fly'
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underground, and get all the books we can; not novels and
poetry, but ideas, science books. We must go to the British
Museum and choose the best books in it. Especially, we must
keep our science - learn more.'
The soldier paused and laid a brown hand on my arm.
'In fact, it may not be so difficult to learn how their
fighting- machines work. Think of four or five of them with
men inside, firing Heat-Rays back at the Martians!'
For some time the imagination of the soldier, and the
confidence and courage he showed, persuaded me completely. I
believed in his idea of the future and in the possibility of his
plans. We talked like this through the early morning, and later
came out of the bushes. After checking the sky for Martians,
we hurried quickly to the house on Putney Hill where he had
his hiding-place.
There I saw the work he had spent a week on. It was a
passage about ten metres long, designed to reach the main drain
on Putney Hill. For the first time I began to think that there was
some distance between his dreams and his powers, because I
could dig a hole like this in a day. But I believed in him enough
to work with him all that morning at his digging.
As we worked I thought about the job, and soon some
doubts began to come into my mind. I thought about the
distance to the drain and the chances of missing it completely. I
also felt that it would be easier to get into the drain and dig
back towards the house. And just as I was beginning to face
these things, the soldier stopped digging and looked at me.
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dead London
After I had said goodbye to the soldier, I went down the
hill, along the High Street and across the bridge to Fulham.
There was black dust on the road after the bridge, and it grew
thicker in Fulham. The streets were horribly quiet. I found
some old bread in a baker's shop there. After that, the streets
became clear of powder and I passed some white houses which
were on fire. The noise of burning was actually better than
silence.
Beyond Fulham the streets were quiet again. Here I found
more black powder and some dead bodies. I saw about ten
along Fulham Road. They had been dead for many days, so I
hurried quickly past them. The black powder covered them and
softened their shapes. One or two had been partly eaten by
dogs.
Where there was no black powder, it was curiously like
Sunday in the financial area of London, with the closed shops,
the houses locked up and the curtains closed. In some places
thieves had been at work, but usually only at the food and wine
shops. A jeweller's window had been broken open in one place,
but the thief had clearly been chased away, because a number
of gold chains and a watch were lying on the pavement. I did
not take the trouble to touch them. Further down the road, a
woman in torn clothes was sitting on a doorstep. The hand that
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hung over her knee was cut, and blood had fallen onto her dirty
brown dress. A broken bottle of wine had formed a pool on the
pavement. She seemed asleep, but she was dead.
The silence grew greater. But it was not the stillness of
death - it was the stillness of expectation. At any time the
destruction that had already happened to the north-western
borders of the city, that had destroyed Ealing, might strike
among these houses and leave them smoking ruins. It was an
empty city waiting for death...
In South Kensington the streets were clear of dead people
and of black powder, and near there I first heard the howling. It
started very quietly. It was a sad movement between two notes,
'Ulla, ulla, ulla, ulla,' continuing without stopping. When I
passed streets that ran to the north it grew louder, and then
houses and buildings seemed to cut it off again. It came most
loudly down Exhibition Road. I stopped, staring towards
Kensington Gardens.
It seemed that all the empty houses had found a voice for
their fear and loneliness.
'Ulla, ulla, ulla,' cried that inhuman note - great waves of
sound sweeping down the broad, sunlit road, between the tall
buildings on each side. I turned to the north, towards the iron
gates of Hyde Park. The voice grew stronger and stronger,
although I could see nothing above the roof-tops on the north
side of the park except some smoke to the north-west.
'Ulla, ulla, ulla,' cried the voice, coming, it seemed to me,
from the district around Regent's Park. The howl affected my
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mind, and my mood changed. I also found that I was very tired,
and hungry and thirsty again.
It was already past midday. Why was I walking alone in
this city of the dead? I thought of old friends that I had
forgotten for years. I thought of the poisons in the chemists'
shops, the bottles in the wine shops...
I came into Oxford Street by Marble Arch, and here again
were black powder and several bodies. After a lot of trouble, I
managed to break into a pub and find some food and drink. I
was tired after eating and went into the room behind the bar
and slept on a black leather sofa that I found there.
I awoke to find that sad howling still in my ears: 'Ulla,
ulla, ulla, ulla, ulla,' It was now getting dark, and after I had
found some bread and cheese in the bar I walked on through
the silent squares to Baker Street and so came at last to Regents
Park. And as I came out of the top of Baker Street, I saw far
away over the trees, in the clearness of the sunset, the top of the
Martian fighting-machine from winch this howling came. I was
not frightened. I watched it for some time, but it did not move.
It appeared to be standing and calling, for no reason that I
could discover.
I tried to work out a plan of action. That non-stop sound
of 'Ulla, ulla, ulla, ulla' confused my mind. Perhaps I was too
tired to be very afraid. Certainly I was more curious to know
the reason for this howling. I turned and went into Park Road,
intending to go round the edge of the park, with houses
between us to keep me safe, and get a view of this unmoving,
howling Martian from the direction of St John's Wood.
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A mad idea came to me. I would die and end it. And I
would save myself even the trouble of killing myself. I
marched on without fear towards this great machine, and then,
as I came nearer and the light grew, I saw that a number of
black birds were circling and gathering around the top of it. I
began to feel very happy and I started running along the road.
I got onto the grass before the sun rose. Great piles of
earth had formed around a pit at the top of the hill - the final
and largest one the Martians had made - and from behind these
piles thin smoke rose against the sky. Against the sky-line an
eager dog ran and disappeared. The thought that had flashed
into my mind grew real, and believable. I felt no fear, only a
wild, shaking excitement, as I ran up the hill towards the
unmoving Martian. Out of the top of it hung long, brown
pieces of flesh, which the birds were tearing away.
In another moment I had climbed a pile of earth and stood
on its top, and the pit was below me. It was a large space, with
enormous machines here and there within it, great piles of
material and strange buildings. And all around it, some in their
overturned war-machines and some in building-machines, and
ten of them lying in a row, were the Martians - dead! They had
been killed by germs against which their systems could not
fight; killed, after all man's machines had failed, by the
smallest things that God has put on this Earth.
It had happened in this way, and I and many others did
not see that it would happen because terror and disaster had
blinded our minds. These germs of disease have killed people
and animals since the beginning of time, but over these many
years we have developed the ability to fight against them. But
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that the shadows had been rolled back, and that people might
still live in its streets, and that this dear city of mine might be
once more alive and powerful again, I felt such emotion that I
was very close to tears.
The trouble had ended. That same day the healing would
begin. People who were still alive would start to return, and life
would come back to the empty streets. The sound of tools
would soon be heard in all the burnt and broken houses. At the
thought, I lifted my hands towards the sky and began thanking
God. In a year, I thought, we would rebuild all that had been
destroyed.
Then came the thought of myself, of my wife, and the old
life of hope and tender helpfulness that had ended forever.
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CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Wreckage
And now comes the strangest thing in my story. But
perhaps it is not totally strange. I remember, clearly and in
great detail, all that I did that day until the time when I stood
crying on the top of Primrose Hill. And then I forget.
I know nothing of the next three days. I have learned
since then that I was not the first discoverer of the Martian
defeat -several wanderers like me had already known about it
on the previous night. One man - the first - had even managed
to send a telegram to Paris. From there the happy news had
flashed all over the world; a thousand cities, living in great
fear, suddenly- turned on all their lights.
They knew of it in Dublin, Edinburgh, Manchester and
Birmingham at the time when I stood on the edge of the pit.
Already men, crying with joy, as I have heard, were getting
onto trains to go to London. Men on bicycles rode through the
countryside shouting the news to all.
And the food! Across the Channel, across the Irish Sea,
across the Atlantic, corn, bread and meat were coming to us.
All the ships in the world seemed to be coming to London in
those days. But I have no memory of all of this. For three days
I walked aimlessly, a madman. Then I found myself in a house
of kind people, who had found me. They have told me since
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that I was singing a crazy song about 'The Last Man Left Alive!
The Last Man Left Alive!' Although they were troubled with
their own affairs, these people were very helpful to me. They
gave me a place to stay and protected me from myself.
Very gently, when my mind was working again, they told
me all they knew about what had happened in Leatherhead.
Two days after I was imprisoned it had been destroyed, with
every person in it, by a Martian. He had swept it all away for
no reason at all, it seemed.
I was a lonely man, and they were very kind to me. I was
a sad one too, and they were patient with me. I stayed with
them for four days after my recovery. All that time I felt a
growing need to look again at whatever remained of the little
life that had seemed so happy and bright in my past. My hosts
tried to change my mind but at last, promising faithfully to
return to them, I went out again into the streets that had lately
been so dark and strange and empty.
Already they were busy with returning people; in places
there were even shops open. I remember how bright that day
seemed as I went sadly back to the little house in Woking - how
busy the streets were, and how full of life. But then I noticed
how ill the people looked and how many of them still wore old
and dirty clothes. The churches were giving out bread sent to
us by the French government, and tired-looking policemen
stood at the corners of every street.
At the end of Waterloo Bridge I bought a copy of the first
newspaper to reappear. I learned nothing new except that
already in one week the examination of the Martians' machines
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dawn. No one had closed it since then. I went into the hall, and
the house felt empty. The stair carpet was discolored where I
had sat, wet to the skin from the thunderstorm on that first
terrible night. Our muddy footsteps still went up the stairs.
I followed them to my study and found, lying on my
writing- table, the page of work I had left on the afternoon of
the opening of the cylinder. For some time I stood reading it. I
remembered how I could not concentrate that morning, hardly
a month before, and how I had stopped work to get my
newspaper from the newsboy. I remembered how I went to the
garden gate as he came past, and how I had listened to his odd
story of 'Men from Mars'.
I came down and went into the dining-room. There were
the remains of the meat and the bread, now gone bad, where
the soldier and I had left them. My home was a lonely place. I
realized the stupidity of the small hope I had held on to for so
long. And then a strange thing happened.
'The house is deserted,' said a voice. 'No one has been
here for ten days. Don't stay here and make yourself unhappy.
No one escaped except you.'
I was shocked. Had I spoken my thought aloud? I turned,
and the door to the garden was open behind me. I took a step
towards it and stood looking out.
And there, amazed and afraid, as I too stood amazed and
afraid, were my cousin and my wife - my wife white and
tearless. She gave a faint cry.
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'I came here,' she said. 'I knew-knew -' She put her hand
to her throat and started to fall. I stepped forwards and caught
her in my arms.
I can only regret now, as I finish my story, how little I can
help with the many questions which are still unanswered. In
one area I shall certainly be criticized. I know very little about
medical matters, but it seems to me most likely that the
Martians were killed by germs.
Certainly, in all the bodies of the Martians that were
examined after the war, no germs were found except ones that
came from Earth. Besides this, we still know very little about
the Black Smoke, and the way that the Heat-Ray worked
remains a puzzle.
A question of more serious interest is the possibility of
another attack from the Martians. I do not think that nearly
enough attention is being paid to this. Every time the planet
Mars comes near to us, I worry that they might try again. We
should be prepared. It should be possible to find the position of
the gun from which the shots came, to watch this part of the
planet carefully and be ready.
In that case, the cylinder could be destroyed before it was
cool enough for the Martians to come out, or they could be
killed by guns as soon as the door opened. It seems to me that
they have lost a great advantage in the failure of their first
surprise. Possibly they also believe this.
One astronomer has given excellent reasons for supposing
that the Martians have actually landed on Venus. Seven months
ago, when these planets were close together, faint, dark marks
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I must admit that the trouble and danger of our time have
left a continuing sense of doubt and fear in my mind. I sit in
my study writing by lamplight, and suddenly I see the valley
below on fire again, and feel that the house around me is empty
and lonely. I go out into the Byfleet Road, and vehicles pass
me, a boy on a bicycle, children going to school - and suddenly
they become strange and unreal, and I hurry on again with the
soldier through the hot, dangerous silence. At night I see the
black powder-darkening the silent streets, and the twisted
bodies covered by it. They stand up in front of me, torn and
dog-bitten. They talk and grow angry, paler, uglier, and I wake,
cold and shaking, in the darkness.
I go to London and see the busy crowds in Fleet Street
and the Strand, and it comes to my mind that they are just the
ghosts of the past, walking the streets that I have seen silent
and empty, spirits in a dead city. And it is strange, too, to stand
on Primrose Hill, as I did only a day before writing this last
chapter. I saw the houses stretching away and disappearing into
the smoke and mist, people walking up and down between the
flower-beds, and the sightseers around the Martian machine
that still stands there. I heard the noise of playing children and
remembered the deep silence of the dawn of that last great
day...
And it is strangest of all to hold my wife's hand again,
and to think that I have thought of her, and that she has thought
of me, among the dead.
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- THE END -
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