The Night of the Triffids by Simon Clark

Author:Simon Clark [Clark, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cookie429, Extratorrents, Kat
ISBN: 9780340766019
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2001-10-01T11:08:13+00:00

***

By the time the rumbling Jumbo had reached the gates of the camp - letting fly with its flame-thrower at the clustering triffids for good measure - I had a clearer impression of my new hosts. Sam Dymes, an engineer by training, was halfway through his tour of duty as 'manager and general dogsbody' of this military outpost of the Foresters. (A name, Sam explained, derived not from any propensity to cut down trees but because his people lived among the triffids. 'Our proper name is the United Liberty Confederation, but as you can see - or hear, rather - that's something of an ungainly mouthful.') Unlike the New York community where the population was concentrated at a single geographical point, the Foresters consisted of several hundred semi-independent settlements that peppered the eastern seaboard from Maryland to the tip of Florida. 'We first settled on islands and on the coast,' Sam told me. 'But Torrence, under his new name of General Fielding, sent gunboats to blow us to smithereens. So we moved inland along rivers, where his gunboats couldn't find us. And, of course, he couldn't send armies overland because of the triffids.' He nodded at one such plant as it lashed its sting against the window. 'Those devils have wound up as our allies. Funny how things turn out, huh?'

When the Jumbo halted I climbed out, noticing that one of the two submarines had left its moorings. I saw that Sam had noticed, too, but he made no comment.

'I reckon you'll be ready for a good square meal, Mr Masen.' He smiled. 'Get yourself a wash-up and a brush-down or whatever. Chow's served across there in the canteen - the hut with the red roof.'

I stood uncertainly for a moment as Sam headed away towards another building. Jazmay had lost interest in me, too, and was talking to a couple of unsighted men who sat at typewriters beneath an awning.

Noticing me standing there with a lost look on my face, Sam called back, 'There're no more armed guards for you, Mr Masen. Make yourself at home.'

I'd tackled two bowlfuls of a spicy dish, along with a heap of bread, when I heard the crackle of a PA system. A female voice announced the arrival of a flying boat, and invited a group of waiting passengers known as the Everglades Team to assemble at pier three.

In due course a large silver flying boat came in low and smooth over the river to make a perfect landing on the water. This stirred the pilot's blood in me. What wouldn't I have given to get behind the controls again, with a pair of beautiful Rolls-Royce engines humming sweetly and the blue sky beckoning.

'Penny for your thoughts, Mr Masen.'

I looked up to see Sam Dymes carrying a tray with a plate of steaming vegetables on it.

'Mind if I join you?'

'By all means.'

'Starting to get your bearings round here?'

I said that I was.

'Good, good,' he responded in that slow, easy drawl of his. 'We'll get you fixed up with a bunk later.

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