Christopher Priest - The Space Machine

We did not have long to wait for an answer to that, and for a few hours it afforded us a certain reassurance.

The storm broke a few moments after we left our temporary refuge. Quite suddenly we were deluged with rain, of an intensity that took us completely by surprise. Within seconds we were both drenched to the skin.

I was all for taking shelter until the cloudburst had passed, but Amelia let go of my hand, and danced away from me. I saw her lit by the distant flames, the glow of red touching her. The rain was plastering her long hair about her face, and the bedraggled chemise clung wetly to her skin. She held up her palms to the downpour, and swept back the hair from her face. Her mouth was open, and I heard her laughing aloud. Then she turned about, stamping and splashing in the puddles; she took my hand, and whirled me gaily. In a moment I caught the joyous, sensuous mood from her, and together in that dark countryside we sang and laughed hysterically, totally abandoning ourselves to the thrill of the rain.

The cloudburst eased, and as the thunder and lightning intensified we sobered. I kissed Amelia fondly and briefly, and we walked on with our arms about each other.

A few minutes later we crossed a road, but there was no traffic of any kind, and shortly after this we approached more woodland. Behind us, now two miles or more away, we could see the town burning on the hill, the flames not doused by the rain.

Just as we walked beneath the first of the trees, Amelia suddenly pointed to the right. There, lined up under the cover of the woodland, was a small artillery battery, the barrels of the ordnance poking out through the camouflage of bushes and shrubs.

We had been noticed by the soldiers at the same moment—for the lightning still flickered with disconcerting brilliance—and an officer dressed in a long cape, gleaming in the rain, came over to us.

I went to him immediately. I could not see his face in the darkness, for his cap was pulled well down, against the rain. Two gunners stood a short distance behind him, sparing us little attention, for they were staring back the way we had come.

“Are you in command here?” I said.

“Yes, sir. Have you come from Woking?”

“Is that the town on the hill?”

He confirmed this. “Nasty business there I believe, sir. A lot of civilian casualties.”

“Do you know what you are up against?” I said.

“I’ve heard the rumours.”

“It is no ordinary enemy,” I said, raising my voice a little. “You must destroy their pit immediately.”

“I have my orders, sir,” the officer said, and just at that moment there was a brilliant flash of lightning, repeated three times, and I saw his face for the first time. He was a man in his mid-twenties, and the clean, regular lines of his face were so unexpectedly human that for a moment I was dumbfounded. In that same illuminating flash he must have seen Amelia and me too, and noticed our untidy state. He went on: “The men have heard rumours that these are men from Mars.”

“Not men,” Amelia said, stepping forward. “Evil, destructive monsters.”

“Have you seen them, sir?” the officer said to me.

“I have more than seen them!” I cried over the rumbling of thunder. “We came with them from Mars!”

The officer turned away at once, and signed to the two gunners. They came over directly.

“These two civilians,” he said. “See them to the Chertsey Road, and report back.”

“You must listen to me!” I cried to the officer. “These monsters must be killed at the first opportunity!”

“My orders are quite explicit, sir,” the officer said, preparing to turn away. “The Cardigan is the finest regiment of horse artillery in the British Army, a fact which even you, in your present deranged state, must admit.”

I stepped forward angrily, but I was caught by one of the soldiers. I struggled, and shouted: “We are not deranged! You must shell their pit at once!”

The officer looked at me sympathetically for a moment or two—evidently assuming that I had seen my house and property destroyed, and was thus temporarily demented—then turned away and splashed across the muddy ground towards a row of tents.

The gunner holding me said: “C’mon, sir. Ain’t no place for civvies.”

I saw that the other soldier was holding Amelia by the arm, and I shouted at him to leave her go. This he did, so I took her arm myself and allowed the soldiers to lead us past the horse-lines—where the poor animals bucked and whinnied, their coats slick with rain—and into the heart of the wood. We walked for several minutes, during which we learned that the detachment had ridden down from Aldershot Barracks that afternoon, but no more information, then came to a road.

Here the soldiers pointed the way to Chertsey, then headed back to their emplacement.

I said to Amelia: “They can have no idea of what they are facing.”

She was more philosophical than I. “But they are alert to the danger, Edward. We cannot tell them what to do. The Martians will be contained on the common.”

“There are eight more projectiles to land!” I said.

“Then they will have to deal with them one by one.” She took my hand affectionately, and we started to walk up the road towards Chertsey. “I think we must be careful how we tell people of our adventures.”

I took this as a mild rebuke, so I said defensively: “The time was wrong. He thought I was mad.”

“Then we must be more calm.”

I said: “There is already word about that the projectiles are from Mars. How could they have known?”

“1 do not know. But I am sure of one thing, and it is a matter of importance to us both. We know where we are, Edward. We, have landed in Surrey.”

“I wish I had thrown us into the sea.”

“If we are going to Chertsey,” Amelia said, not at all affected by my pessimism, “then we are not a dozen miles from Sir William’s house in Richmond!”

As we entered Chertsey it was clear that the town had been evacuated. The first sign we saw of this was as we passed the station, and noticed that the metal gates had been drawn across the passenger entrance. Beyond them, a chalked sign declared that the train service had been suspended until further notice.

Further on into the town, walking through unlighted roads, we saw not a single lamp in any of the houses, nor anyone about the streets. We walked as far as the River Thames, but all we could see here were several boats and dinghies bobbing at their moorings.

The thunderstorm had passed, although it, continued to rain, and we were both chilled through.

“We must find somewhere to rest,” I said. “We are both done for.”

Amelia nodded wearily, and held a little tighter to my arm. I was glad for her sake that there was no one about to see us: our abrupt return to civilization served to remind me that Amelia, in her torn and wet chemise, was as good as unclothed, and I was little better dressed.

Amelia made an instant decision. “We must break into one of the houses. We cannot sleep in the open.”

“But the Martians…”

“We can leave those to the Army. My dearest, we must rest.”

There were several houses backing on to the river, but as we moved from one to the other we realized that the evacuation must have been orderly and without panic, for each was securely shuttered and locked.

At last we came to a house, in a road only a short distance from the river, where a window came free as I pushed at it. I climbed inside at once, then went through and opened the door for Amelia. She came in, shivering, and I warmed her with my own body.

“Take off your chemise,” I said “I will find you some clothes.”