CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

My Return Home

I am not sure why, but I cannot remember what happened over the next three days. I must have been completely overcome with relief and joy. Over time I learned that I was not quite the first person to realize the end of the Martians had come. It turns out that while I was hiding in the cabman's shelter, another gentleman had come across the dead Martians and immediately set out to inform the world by telegraph. I had no idea that at the very same moment I was looking down upon the ruins of the Martian pit, most of the world was celebrating the liberation of England. Of course, the last people to know were the English, themselves, for most of them were still in hiding. However, once the news reached them, they came running back to their beloved London.

Countries from all over the world began to send food to the English. And it seemed that every ship in the ocean was headed toward our fair country.

As for me, an extremely kind family found me wandering the streets half-mad, singing songs about being the last man alive in the world. They took me into their home and took care of me, patiently waiting and hoping I would soon regain my senses. I, of course, did calm down after about four days. They gave me another day's rest before breaking the news to me that all of Leatherhead had been destroyed. Not a single person survived the attack.

I stayed with them for four more days, feeling hopelessly sad and lonely. They did their best to help me, which I find amazing, considering that they had their own problems to deal with. The desire to revisit my hometown was so strong in me that I told the family that I would have to leave right away. They tried to change my mind, but I could not be reasoned with.

I set out on the ninth day and found the streets of London once again alive with thousands of people. I was very surprised to see that some stores had already reopened and that water was flowing from some of the fountains in the squares.

The sun that day was so bright that I felt it was making a joke of my sad situation. Most of the people I saw on the street seemed to be either unbelievably happy or quietly accepting of their circumstances. Most of the people looked tired and unhealthy. Their clothing was still dirty and their hair a filthy mess.

While crossing Waterloo Bridge, I caught sight of a man selling newspapers. It was the first newspaper to go back into print. The news indicated that much had already been learned from the scientists' examination of the Martian equipment. The scientists even thought that they had discovered the secret of flying.

Much to my relief, I had an entire compartment on the train all to myself. It seemed that over the nine days of my recovery, most of the people had managed to return to their homes. I had no desire to converse with anyone and spent the entire train ride silently staring out the window at the changed countryside. Most of the towns I passed were in smoking ruins. Only one town seemed untouched, but that was only because its thick forest of pine trees hid the destruction from the train passengers.

When I arrived at Byfleet Station, I exited the train and walked toward my town of Maybury. I came upon the overturned wagon I had rented from the pub owner and next to it were the bones of his horse. I stood there in quiet thought for quite some time before moving on.

A man standing outside of the neighborhood pub greeted me by name as I approached. I returned the greeting and asked about the pub owner. He told me that he had been buried a few days before. I thanked him for the information and started the last few meters to my home.

At first I thought that there was hope for my wife to be there, but that thought quickly disappeared when I saw that the house was in the same condition I had left it in that night of the storm. The lock on the front door was broken and when I entered the front hallway, I saw stains on the floor from when I had returned to the house, soaking wet, and hidden from the Martians. The tracks of both mine and the artillery-man's footsteps still led up the stairs and into my study. And there on the table lay the paper on which I had started my latest philosophical article.

I went back downstairs and saw the remains of the meal the artillery-man and I had had before running out of town. The house was so silent and lonely. I felt a terrible sadness building up inside of me. Then I heard a voice from behind me say, "Let's go. It was unwise to come here. It's obvious that no one has survived."

For a moment, I thought that I might have said the words to myself, but then I ran to the window and found myself looking into the eyes of my cousin and my wife. We stayed that way, silent and staring in disbelief for several moments before I saw my wife's eyes start to turn upward and I ran to catch her before she completely fainted.

(end of section)