Paul Capon by The World at Bay

Author:The World at Bay [Bay, The World at]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-09-07T16:45:40+00:00

takes more courage than anything else, but . . ." Atmospherics, like the roar of sea waves, swirled up and swamped the voice, and for more than a minute Boothwaite could distinguish nothing except an occasional word or an isolated phrase, but he gathered that the announcer was advising his listeners on how to behave when the invasion came. . . make sure there is no naked flame burning in your home. And don't smoke. That's right, put that cigarette out. . . f

An atmospheric bedlam of whistles and squeals broke loose and Boothwaite touched the tuning dial. The catcalls died and now the announcer was saying, in confident, reassuring tones, "You can take it from me that Washington is on its toes. Every sort of defensive action that might prove effective is being worked over and, although for obvious reasons I can't tell you just exactly what steps are being taken, you can rest assured—"

The radio suddenly clicked into silence and at the same moment the lights went out. Boothwaite told himself that a fuse must have blown. He hurried into the kitchen and found that the lights in there had also gone. So had the lights in the pantry, and at that point the real cause of the blackout dawned on him. The power station had gone out of commission. The generators must have been running unattended ever since dawn, and now for one reason or another—probably lack of fuel—they had stopped.

Another attack of faintness swept over Boothwaite like a wave and he nearly fell. He managed to stagger to a chair and sat down heavily. No current meant no vacuum cleaner, and he told himself gloomily that put a finish to that part of his plan. His head was swimming and he found it difficult to think coherently. He felt sure that if only he could have just one sip of water he would be all right. He would be able to devise some alternative plan—and his gaze traveled longingly to the cold-water faucet above the sink. Just one sip....

He dragged himself upright and, steadying himself against the chair back, took a cup from the dresser. He lurched over to the sink and turned on the cold tap, gratefully letting the water run over his hands and wrists. He filled the cup and, as he did so, noticed that the drainboard was filmed with a layer of the white dust. So was the window ledge and every other level surface. He knew he was taking a tremendous chance, yet felt there was nothing else he could do. His thirst was now such as to outweigh every other consideration.

He turned and put the cup down on the table. He took a deep breath and held it, then quickly whipped off the gas mask. He raised the cup to his lips, drank deeply and almost at once felt revived. Then, still holding his breath, he hurriedly replaced the mask.

Yet even as he congratulated himself on the success of his maneuver he realized something was wrong.

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