CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A Surprise Reunion

Looking around, I was struck by a new feeling. It was the same feeling that any animal might have upon returning to its home and finding that everything had been destroyed by humans in order to build a house of their own. It was the feeling that humans were no longer the rulers of the earth. Now we were simple animals, just like birds or bears. All of our safety and security was now gone. We would be hunted as food for the rest of our days.

I stopped thinking about these things when I realized how hungry I was. I looked about the area and saw a garden in the distance. Slowly I walked through the many tall, red plants until I reached the garden. I hoped I would find something to eat there. Fortunately there were some carrots and other vegetables in the ground. Quickly I gathered as many as I could and walked to the nearest road, eating the whole time.

When I reached the Thames river, I found that the red plant had filled it and sent its water overflowing into the fields and yards that ran next to it. Some towns were completely covered in water and the red plant-life. But, as I walked on, it became clear that the Martian plant-life was dying very quickly. It seemed that the plant could not survive under the ordinary conditions of Earth. The branches were turning white and becoming very dry and weak. I grabbed a few branches and they crumbled into dust at my feet.

I walked along the river and did not see much change, until I reached the town of Putney Common. There, I recognized the work of the Martians' heat ray. Many of the houses were burned completely to the ground, and yet, right next door to them were perfectly untouched homes, looking as though their owners were simply away on vacation. In fact, there were no humans to be found among the streets or houses. I managed to enter a few of the homes, but was unsuccessful in finding food. Most of them had already been emptied. I continued to move on, and, along the way, found a few animal bones here and there. I chewed on them in order to try and get at least some of the remaining meat, but found that it had already been eaten away. I also found many human bodies with nothing but the bones left lying on the ground. I began to think that I might be one of the few people left in this part of the world.

That night, I slept in a real bed. It was the first bed I had slept in since the night before I left my wife in Leatherhead. After finding what I could to eat, I lay in bed thinking.

I mainly thought about three things: the curate, the Martians, and my wife. The first I did not feel too guilty about. I felt that the curate's death was unavoidable. I looked back upon all of our conversations and all of our time spent together, and although I am uncomfortable with the part I played in his death, I can see no other way for things to have turned out. It is hard to imagine that you yourself could be driven to act in the same horrible ways you have read about others having behaved in history books, but I am witness to it. I, a simple philosopher, who wanted only to better his world, had played a part in two deaths since the beginning of these terrible times. First, there was the pub owner, whose horse and wagon I took, and now there was the curate. Of the two, I felt guilty only for the first, for the second would have walked out to his death, anyway, if I had not struck him. I was mostly uncomfortable with the violence that had shown itself within me. The physical abuse I delivered to the half-crazed curate is nothing I am at all proud of. I have written it down in order not to hide anything about this unique period in human history, and I suppose that now it is up to the reader to decide whether my actions were right or wrong.

My thoughts on both the Martians and my wife were mixed together, for I feared that something horrible might have happened to her. Then I did something I had not done for quite some time: I prayed. I prayed that she might be safe and healthy at that moment, and, if she were no longer alive, that her death had been a quick and painless one. As I prayed, I wondered if the Martians also prayed, as well.

I wanted to go to Leatherhead to find my wife, but I knew that if she were still alive, she and my cousins would have run away with the rest of the people. However, it was also possible that someone there might know where she had gone. And suddenly, all this thinking about her made me begin to feel lonely and sad. I decided to move on through Wimbledon in order to keep my spirits up. I thought that as long as I kept moving, hope still existed.

After several hours of walking in darkness, the sun rose and shone down on the land. Everything shined with a beautiful golden glow. The warm sun made me feel better and I began to walk faster.

Suddenly a noise in some nearby bushes frightened me. I stopped to see what might be hiding in the shadows. A dark figure rose up from behind. It was a man. His clothing was as dirty as mine and he was holding a long knife.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

I didn't know what to say.

"This is my town now. You can't stay here!" he shouted.

"That's all right. I did not plan to stay in your town. I'm going to Leatherhead to try and find my wife," I said.

He looked at me curiously for a moment without saying a word.

"Wait a minute ... I know you," he said, "You're the guy from Woking. We separated at Weybridge!"

I then realized that this was the artillery-man.

"I can't believe it's you!" he went on, "That must have been more than two weeks ago. And look, your hair's turned gray in some places. You must have had a terrible experience!"

"We've all had a bad time," I said. "Are there any Martians in the area?"

"No. I think most of them are up in London. At night you can see the lights of their camp. It's like an incredible modern city! I did see a couple of them about five or six days ago. They were carrying something rather large between the two of them. And several days ago I saw something from their camp fly up into the sky."

"Are you serious? Well, then the whole world's in trouble now!"

"In trouble?" the artillery-man laughed, "The human race is going to die, my friend. We have lost this war. We were only able to kill one Martian! There's nothing to be done."

I tried to think of a way to argue, but I could not come up with anything to say.

"We are nothing more than insects now," he continued, "Stupid little insects that fight amongst one another until the real beings come along and decide its time to end our stupid little meaningless lives."

I then pointed out that they had only fired the gun on Mars ten times. If there were no more Martians than these, then maybe we could come together and defeat them somehow.

"Maybe their gun simply broke, momentarily. In time they could surely repair it and start shooting their Martian soldiers to Earth again. But I don't think that that is what has happened. No, I think that they sent a few of their soldiers to destroy the most powerful nation on Earth and take away our ability to defend ourselves. Once they finish that, they will then send more Martians and begin to capture humans regularly and keep us in cages for food."

"If this is true, then what's the point in living any longer?" I cried.

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to keep on living because I don't want to die. I don't care so much about the loss of our culture and civilization, sad as it may be. I'm not going to let that make my life seem pointless. I've gone to many a concert and social engagement I later realized I could have lived without. Most of all, I'm absolutely not going to let those ugly monsters get a hold of me!"

I was impressed by his strong desire to live. Suddenly, I began to feel the same desire and I took his hand and shook it.

"Okay. I'm with you," I said, "Tell me what you've got in mind."

"Well, first let me tell you about what I see happening to man in the near future. All those men who ran to their offices everyday, men who lived to work meaningless jobs and live meaningless lives when the Martians were not here, they will become Martian food. In fact, I think they might even one day become Martian pets. And they will accept this kind of life. They will do nothing to fight it. We, on the other hand, who refuse this kind of slavery, will have to move underground to live. London is full of underground pipes and tunnels. Sure, they were dirty when London was full of people, but now it will be quite empty, which means a cleaner underground. We'll then start our own group of strong-minded, simple men who know how to survive. All others will not be allowed to live with us. They must go and be Martian food, because that's all they'll be good for. And that include the women, as well. We need a pure race. Anyone who is weak-minded must die. We'll gather as many of the great scientific books in the museums as we can, so that we can continue our progress. We'll send people to spy on the Martians and keep up with their progress, as well. And, instead of fighting the Martians, we'll just stay out of their way. If they don't feel threatened or annoyed by us, I think they'll be more likely to leave us alone. But all the while, we'll be studying their ways and improving our own until, one day, a man climbs into one of those Martian fighting machines and starts using it against the Martians! I hope I live long enough to see that day, let me tell you!"

We talked for several hours about his plans. Although I could see some problems with his ideas, I liked them, nevertheless, and started to feel his excitement. We then went back to his hiding place in the basement of a house on Putney Hill. He showed me the hole that he had been digging for the past week or so. I must admit that I was a bit disappointed. I felt that I could have done as much work in one day. Regardless, I helped him to dig further, for he believed that underneath were the tunnels he had earlier spoken about. I helped him dig for about an hour, thinking more and more about the problems with his plans. Then he stopped and suggested that we go out and have a look around for Martians. I did not understand why this was necessary and suggested that we keep digging. But then I thought about how I had run into him out among the fields.

"Why weren't you here digging earlier?" I asked.

"Oh, I just thought I'd have a nice walk," he said.

"But aren't you in a hurry to get through to the underground? Why stop working?"

He only answered by suggesting that we go to have another look about town for Martians. I then understood that this man was not quite as strong-willed as he had led me to believe.

We went outside and walked about the village. We saw nothing but patches of that red Martian plant-life here and there, covering sections of the fields and climbing up the sides of trees, mingling with the leaves. While walking about, he told me a story about some survivors who had not left London like the rest of the people. This small group of people had somehow managed to get the electricity back on in a certain part of the city. Seeing their success they all went out into the street and partied well into the evening, drinking and singing and dancing. Suddenly, one of the Martian fighting machines appeared and picked up about two hundred of those people and disappeared down the street.

We then returned to the house and my companion became more cheerful. He was happy to have me around, it seemed. Together, we made a rather big meal, and, afterward, smoked cigars of the highest quality. Then we spent much of the rest of the day drinking champagne and playing card games.

Eventually, the artillery man fell asleep from all of his drinking. I had only two glasses, for I did not like champagne very much, nor was I especially in the mood for celebration. I decided to go outside again and have a look at those lights he had mentioned to me earlier in the day. As I looked off into the distant red glow of the still burning area of Kensington, I began to feel ashamed of myself. Here I was eating large meals, smoking cigars, and drinking champagne while the rest of humanity was suffering just a few miles away. I immediately decided to leave this man to his useless dreams and go on to London to see what the people who really wanted to save the human race were doing.

(end of section)