Book 1 · Chapter 5

After seeing those Martians climb out of the cylinder they’d used to get here from their planet, I froze. I just stood there, up to my knees in the heather, staring at the mound hiding them. I was battling a mix of fear and curiosity.

I didn’t dare head back towards the pit, but I really wanted to get a better look. So, I started walking in a big curve, searching for a good spot to watch, constantly looking at the sand dunes hiding these newcomers.

Once, a bunch of thin, black whips, like an octopus’s arms, flashed across the sunset and disappeared, and then a thin rod slowly rose up, piece by piece, topped with a spinning disk that wobbled as it turned. What was going on down there?

Most of the people had gathered in a couple of groups - one a small crowd heading towards Woking, the other a bunch of people towards Chobham. They were clearly feeling the same internal struggle as me. There weren't many people close to me.

I approached one guy - I realized he was a neighbor, even though I didn’t know his name - and said hello. But it wasn't really a time for a long conversation. "What freaky creatures!" he said. "Good grief! What freaky creatures! He kept repeating it.

"Did you see anyone down in the pit?" I asked, but he didn’t answer. We just stood there watching together for a while, probably finding some comfort in just being near someone else.

Then, I moved to a small hill that gave me a better view, and when I looked for him a bit later, he was walking towards Woking. The sunset faded to twilight before anything else happened. The crowd way off to the left, towards Woking, seemed to grow, and I could hear a faint murmur coming from it.

The small group of people towards Chobham scattered. There was barely any movement from the pit. That, more than anything, seemed to give people courage, and I guess the Martians from Woking helped restore confidence too.

Anyway, as darkness fell, a slow, uneven movement started in the sand pits, gaining strength as the silence around the cylinder continued.

Black figures, two or three at a time, would move forward, stop, watch, and move forward again, spreading out in a thin, uneven crescent that looked like it would eventually surround the pit. I, too, started moving towards the pit.

Then, I saw some cab drivers and others had boldly walked into the sand pits, and I heard the sound of hooves and wheels. I saw a kid pushing a cart full of apples.

And then, about thirty yards from the pit, coming from the direction of Horsell, I noticed a small group of people, the one in front waving a white flag. This was the delegation.

After a quick discussion, since the Martians seemed intelligent despite their creepy looks, it was decided to show them, by approaching them with signals, that we were intelligent too. Flutter, flutter, went the flag, first to the right, then to the left.

It was too far for me to recognize anyone there, but later I learned that Ogilvy, Stent, and Henderson were with others in this attempt to communicate.

This little group had essentially pulled the outer edge of the now almost complete circle of people inward, and a bunch of dim black figures followed at a safe distance.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light, and a cloud of glowing greenish smoke came out of the pit in three distinct bursts, shooting straight up into the still air.

This smoke (or maybe flame would be a better word) was so bright that the deep blue sky above and the hazy fields towards Chertsey, dotted with dark pine trees, seemed to darken suddenly as these bursts rose, and stayed darker after they faded. At the same time, I heard a faint hissing sound.

Beyond the pit stood a small group of people with a white flag at the front, frozen by what was happening - a tiny cluster of dark shapes on the dark ground. As the green smoke rose, their faces flashed a sickly green, then faded as it disappeared.

Then, slowly, the hissing turned into a humming, into a long, loud, droning noise. Slowly, a humped shape rose out of the pit, and a flicker of light seemed to flash from it. Suddenly, actual flames burst out - a bright glare leaping from person to person.

It was like some invisible jet hit them and burst into white fire. It was as if each person suddenly and briefly turned into a torch. Then, in the light of their destruction, I saw them staggering and falling, and their supporters turning to run.

I stood staring, not yet realizing that this was death jumping from person to person in that little group far away. All I felt was that it was something really weird.

An almost silent and blinding flash of light, and a person fell head over heels and lay still; and as the unseen blast of heat passed over them, pine trees burst into flames, and every dry gorse bush became a mass of fire with a dull thud.

And far away towards Knaphill, I saw flashes of trees, hedges, and wooden buildings suddenly catching fire. This flaming death was sweeping around quickly and steadily - an invisible, unstoppable wave of heat.

I saw it coming towards me by the bushes it touched, and I was too shocked and stunned to move. I heard the crackling of fire in the sand pits and the sudden squeal of a horse that was just as suddenly silenced.

Then it was like an invisible, intensely hot finger was drawn through the heather between me and the Martians, and along a curving line beyond the sand pits, the dark ground smoked and crackled. Something crashed far away to the left where the road from Woking station opens onto the common.

Then the hissing and humming stopped, and the black, dome-shaped object sank slowly out of sight into the pit. All this happened so fast that I stood frozen, dumbfounded and dazzled by the flashes of light. If that wave of death had swept in a full circle, it would have killed me in my surprise.

But it passed and spared me, leaving the night around me suddenly dark and unfamiliar. The rolling common seemed now dark, almost black, except where the roads lay grey and pale under the deep blue sky of the early night. It was dark, and suddenly empty of people.

Above, the stars were appearing, and in the west, the sky was still a pale, bright, almost greenish blue. The tops of the pine trees and the roofs of Horsell stood out sharp and black against the western afterglow.

The Martians and their machines were completely invisible, except for that thin mast on which their restless mirror wobbled. Patches of bushes and isolated trees still smoked and glowed, and the houses towards Woking station were sending up pillars of flame into the stillness of the evening air.

Nothing had changed except for that and a terrible shock. The little group of dark specks with the white flag had been wiped out, and the stillness of the evening, it seemed to me, had barely been broken. It hit me that I was on this dark common, helpless, unprotected, and alone.

Suddenly, like something falling on me from nowhere, came - fear. With a huge effort, I turned and started running through the heather.

The fear hit me like a tidal wave - not a logical fear, but full-blown panic. I was terrified, not just of the Martians, but of the growing darkness and the eerie quiet all around. It was so intense, it totally freaked me out, and I ran, silently crying like a little kid.

I spun around, but I couldn’t bring myself to look back. I had this crazy feeling that I was being toyed with. Like, just as I was about to reach safety, this mysterious, super-fast death - like a bolt of lightning - would jump out of the pit near the cylinder and take me down.