Map of the Sky by Felix J. Palma

Author:Felix J. Palma [Palma, Felix J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9781921942907
Publisher: Scribe Publications
Published: 2012-06-14T14:00:00+00:00

XXIV

LET US NOW RETURN TO THE REAL WELLS, whom we left clasping Miss Harlow inside a luxurious carriage with an ornate “G” emblazoned on one of its doors, which at that moment was hurtling toward the Martian tripod in an insane bid to pass beneath its legs. I hope you will forgive me for having left our hero in such a delicate situation; think of it as my homage to the serialized novels of the time. As the jolting carriage careered across the dozen or so yards separating it from the lethal machine, Wells gritted his teeth, expecting the heat ray to vaporize them at any moment. However, the author was still able to wonder whether the flames would consume their bodies so swiftly that they wouldn’t have time to feel any pain. But death’s caress was slow to arrive. Astonished that the machine had still not fired at them, Wells opened his eyes and turned toward the window, convinced these would be his last gestures. As he did so, he saw one of the tripod’s legs pass so close to the carriage that it sheared off a lantern on the left side. A second later, he heard a deafening blast from behind, which shook the coach violently once again. Then Murray gave a cry of triumph. Looking over his shoulder through the rear window, Wells could see the vast hole the ray had bored in the road. With a mixture of relief and joy, he realized the tentacle had waited too long before firing at them. The speed at which the millionaire had driven the horses had confused the machine, and it had not had time to take proper aim. And as the tripod grew smaller in the rear window, so the likelihood of it firing at them again diminished, for as Murray had realized, the machine could not turn as quickly as they. The author watched as it tried to swivel round in the middle of the road like a clumsy ballerina, realizing that by the time it did so, their carriage would be out of sight. He turned once more in his seat, breathless with anxiety, and gently lifted the girl’s head, which was still pressed against his chest.

“We made it, Miss Harlow, we made it,” he stammered between gasps.

The girl sat up straight, a look of shock on her face. Gazing through the window, she saw that indeed they had succeeded in passing under the machine, which had given up pursuit and was moving in the opposite direction toward Woking.

“Are you all right in there?” they heard Murray ask.

“Yes, you bloody lunatic, we’re all right!” Wells shouted, unsure whether to explode with rage or give in to the hysterical laughter threatening to rise from his throat.

Instead, he simply fell back in his seat, his heart still pounding, and tried to calm himself. They had been on the point of dying, he said to himself, yet they were alive. This was a reason to rejoice. Or it ought to have been.

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