Excerpt from Chapter 4

Tripod

Ogilvy’s coughing echoed beyond the walls of the ward. He could not help feeling he was the only one in the entire building. It was inexplicably still, all too quiet in the ward; the usual hustle and bustle of the place was gone. Fewer and fewer hospital staff returned each day to carry out their duties, and those that did were already exhausted when they arrived.

Heavily bandaged, he was far from able to move in the semi-darkness when a nearby explosion at about eleven in the morning caused many of the hospital windows to implode and shatter, showering the ward with glass. The smell of smoke grew stronger and it was not clear if the building was on fire.

Ogilvy’s slow descent into hell began with wafts of heated air causing the room temperature to rise. Without his full medication he began to feel burned again. The sounds of suffering and wailing from other patients became increasingly loud.

Lacking the support of the glass in the

windows, a mass of Red Weed came crashing through the frames and lay in large heaps on the floor. Shafts of sunlight now illuminated the ward.

At first glance the closest window seemed blocked and covered. The one to the right of it was clear and for the first time in days, he could just see the sky again and the branches of a huge oak tree. He watched in horror as the tree, caught in the beam of a Martian heat ray, roared into flames, signalling that at least one tripod was nearby.

Glancing again at the broken windows,

Ogilvy was suddenly aware that a tripod scrutinised him closely. Not taking his gaze from the metal monster he carefully reached for the Martian Diaries and concealed them under his thigh.

Slowly, the alien machine appeared to increase in size as it came ever nearer. Petrified and unable to move, Ogilvy was trapped.