1、version 1.2 by btr239New in Version 1.2: Many errors found and fixed; The file converted to plain text format;I found some unrecognizable words in this text and couldnt fix them because I didnt have the original book. So if someone has the original book or can get it please fix those words you can f
2、ind them by searching for the but he still used the lifetime habit of judging nightfall by the sky, and on cloudy days that method didnt work. That was why he chose to stay near the house on those days.He walked around the house in the dull gray of afternoon, a cigarette dangling from the corner of
3、his mouth, trailing threadlike smoke over his shoulder. He checked each window to see if any of the boards had been loosened. After violent attacks, the planks were often split or partially pried off, and he had to replace them completely; a job he hated. Today only one plank was loose. Isnt that am
4、azing? he thought.In the backyard he checked the hothouse and the water tank. Sometimes the structure around the tank might be weakened or its rain catchers bent or broken off. Sometimes they would lob rocks over the high fence around the hothouse, and occasionally they would tear through the overhe
5、ad net and hed have to replace panes.Both the tank and the hothouse were undamaged today. He went to the house for a hammer and nails. As he pushed open the front door, he looked at the distorted reflection of himself in the cracked mirror hed fastened to the door a month ago. In a few days, jagged
6、pieces of the silver-backed glass would start to fall off. Let em fall, he thought. It was the last damned mirror hed put there; it wasnt worth it. Hed put garlic there instead. Garlic always worked.He passed slowly through the dim silence of the living room, turned left into the small hallway, and
7、left again into his bedroom.Once the room had been warmly decorated, but that was in another time. Now it was a room entirely functional, and since Nevilles bed and bureau took up so little space, he had converted one side of the room into a shop.A long bench covered almost an entire wall, on its ha
8、rdwood top a heavy band saw; a wood lathe, an emery wheel, and a vise. Above it, on the wall, were haphazard racks of the tools that Robert Neville used.He took a hammer from the bench and picked out a few nails from one of the disordered bins. Then he went back outside and nailed the plank fast to
9、the shutter. The unused nails he threw into the rubble next door.For a while he stood on the front lawn looking up and down the silent length of Cimarron Street. He was a tall man, thirty-six, born of English-German stock, his features undistinguished except for the long, determined mouth and the br
10、ight blue of his eyes, which moved now over the charred ruins of the houses on each side of his. Hed burned them down to prevent them from jumping on his roof from the adjacent ones.After a few minutes he took a long, slow breath and went back into the house. He tossed the hammer on the living-room
11、couch, then lit another cigarette and had his midmorning drink.Later he forced himself into the kitchen to grind up the five-day accumulation of garbage in the sink. He knew he should burn up the paper plates and utensils too, and dust the furniture and wash out the sinks and the bathtub and toilet,
12、 and change the sheets and pillowcase on his bed; but he didnt feel like it.For he was a man and he was alone and these things had no importance to him.It was almost noon. Robert Neville was in his hothouse collecting a basketful of garlic.In the beginning it had made him sick to smell garlic in suc
13、h quantity his stomach had been in a state of constant turmoil. Now the smell was in his house and in his clothes, and sometimes he thought it was even in his flesh.He hardly noticed it at all.When he had enough bulbs, he went back to the house and dumped them on the drainboard of the sink. As he fl
14、icked the wall switch, the light flickered, then flared into normal brilliance. A disgusted hiss passed his clenched teeth. The generator was at it again. Hed have to get out that damned manual again and check the wiring. And, if it were too much trouble to repair, hed have to install a new generato
15、r.Angrily he jerked a high-legged stool to the sink, got a knife, and sat down with an exhausted grunt.First, he separated the bulbs into the small, sickle-shaped cloves. Then he cut each pink, leathery clove in half, exposing the fleshy center buds. The air thickened with the musky, pungent odor. W
16、hen it got too oppressive, he snapped on the air-conditioning unit and suction drew away the worst of it.Now he reached over and took an icepick from its wall rack. He punched holes in each clove half, then strung them all together with wire until he had about twenty-five necklaces.In the beginning
17、he had hung these necklaces over the windows. But from a distance theyd thrown rocks until hed been forced to cover the broken panes with plywood scraps. Finally one day hed torn off the plywood and nailed up even rows of planks instead. It had made the house a gloomy sepulcher, but it was better th
18、an having rocks come flying into his rooms in a shower of splintered glass. And, once he had installed the three air-conditioning units, it wasnt too bad. A man could get used to anything if he had to.When he was finished stringing the garlic cloves, he went outside and nailed them over the window b
19、oarding, taking down the old strings, which had lost most of their potent smell.He had to go through this process twice a week. Until he found something better, it was his first line of defense.Defense? he often thought. For what? All afternoon he made stakes.He lathed them out of thick doweling, ba
20、nd-sawed into nine-inch lengths. These he held against the whirling emery stone until they were as sharp as daggers.It was. tiresome, monotonous work, and it filled the air with hot-smelling wood dust that settled in his pores and got into his lungs and made him cough.Yet he never seemed to get ahea
21、d. No matter how many stakes he made, they were gone in no time at all. Doweling was getting harder to find, too. Eventually hed have to lathe down rectangular lengths of wood. Wont that be fun? He thought irritably.It was all very depressing and it made him resolve to find a better method of dispos
22、al. But how could he find it when they never gave him a chance to slow down and think? As he lathed, he listened to records over the loudspeaker hed set up in: the bedroom - Beethovens Third, Seventh, and Ninth symphonies. He was glad hed learned early in life, from his mother, to appreciate this ki
23、nd of music. It helped to fill the terrible void of hours.From four oclock on, his gaze kept shifting to the clock on the wall. He worked in silence, lips pressed into a hard line, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, his eyes Staring at the bit as it gnawed away the wood and sent floury dust fil
24、tering down to the floor.Four-fifteen. Four-thirty. It was a quarter to five.In another hour theyd be at the house again, the filthy bastards. As soon as the light was gone.He stood before the giant freezer, selecting his supper.His jaded eyes moved over the stacks of meats down to the frozen vegeta
25、bles, down to the breads and pastries, the fruits and ice cream.He picked out two lamb chops, string beans, and a small box of orange sherbet.He picked the boxes from the freezer and pushed shut the door with his elbow.Next he moved over to the uneven stacks of cans piled to the ceiling. He took dow
26、n a can of tomato juice, then left the room that had once belonged to Kathy and now belonged to his stomach.He moved slowly across the living room, looking at the mural that covered the back wall. It showed a cliff edge, sheering off to green-blue ocean that surged and broke over black rocks. Far up
27、 in the clear blue sky, white sea gulls floated on the wind, and over on the right a gnarled tree hung over the precipice, its dark branches etched against the sky.Neville walked into the kitchen and dumped the groceries on the table, his eyes moving to the clock. Twenty minutes to six. Soon now.He
28、poured a little water into a small pan and clanked it down on a stove burner.Next he thawed out the chops and put them under the broiler. By this time the water was boiling and he dropped in the frozen string beans and covered them, thinking that it was probably the electric stove that was milking t
29、he generator.At the table he sliced himself two pieces of bread and poured himself a glass of tomato juice. He sat down and looked at the red second hand as it swept slowly around the clock face. The bastards ought to be here soon.After hed finished his tomato juice, he walked to the front door and
30、went out onto the porch. He stepped off onto the lawn and walked down to the sidewalk.The sky was darkening and it was getting chilly. He looked up and down Cimarron Street, the cool breeze ruffling his blond hair. Thats what was wrong with these cloudy days; you never knew when they were coming.Oh,
31、 well, at least they were better than those damned dust storms. With a shrug, he moved back across the lawn and into the house, locking and bolting the door behind him, sliding the thick bar into place. Then he went back into the kitchen, turned his chops, and switched off the heat under the string
32、beans.He was putting the food on his plate when he stopped and his eyes moved quickly to the clock. Six-twenty-five today. Ben Cortman was shouting.“Come out, Neville!“Robert Neville sat down with a sigh and began to eat.He sat in the living room, trying to read. Hed made himself a whisky and soda a
33、t his small bar and he held the cold glass as he read a physiology text. From the speaker over the hallway door, the music of Schonberg was playing loudly.Not loudly enough, though. He still heard them outside, their murmuring and their walkings about and their cries, their snarling and fighting amo
34、ng themselves. Once in a while a rock or brick thudded off the house. Sometimes a dog barked.And they were all there for the same thing.Robert Neville closed his eyes a moment and held his lips in a tight line. Then he opened his eyes and lit another cigarette, letting the smoke go deep into his lun
35、gs.He wished hed had time to soundproof the house. It wouldnt be so bad if it werent that he had to listen to them. Even after five months, it got on his nerves.He never looked at them any more. In the beginning hed made a peephole in the front window and watched them. But then the women had seen hi
36、m and had started striking vile postures in order to entice him out of the house. He didnt want to look at that.He put down his book and stared bleakly at the rug, hearing Verklarte Nacht play over the loud-speaker. He knew he could put plugs in his ears to shut off the sound of them, but that would
37、 shut off the music too, and he didnt want to feel that they were forcing him into a shell.He closed his eyes again. It was the women who made it so difficult, he thought, the women posing like lewd puppets in the night on the possibility that hed see them and decide to come out.A shudder ran throug
38、h him. Every night it was the same. Hed be reading and listening to music. Then hed start to think about soundproofing the house, then hed think about the women.Deep in his body, the knotting heat began again, and he pressed his lips together until they were white. He knew the feeling well and it en
39、raged him that he couldnt combat it. It grew and grew until he couldnt sit still any more.Then hed get up and pace the floor, fists bloodless at his sides. Maybe hed set up the movie projector or eat something or have too much to drink or turn the music up so loud it hurt his ears. He had to do some
40、thing when it got really bad.He felt the muscles of his abdomen closing in like frightening coils. He picked up the book and tried to read, his lips forming each word slowly and painfully.But in a moment the book was on his lap again. He looked at the bookcase across from him. All the knowledge in t
41、hose books couldnt put out the fires in him; all the words of centuries couldnt end the wordless, mindless craving of his flesh.The realization made him sick. It was an insult to a man. All right, it was a natural drive, but there was no outlet for it any more. Theyd forced celibacy on him; hed have
42、 to live with it. You have a mind, dont you? he asked himself. Well, use it! He reached over and turned the music still louder; then forced himself to read a whole page without pause. He read about blood cells being forced through membranes, about pale lymph carrying the wastes through tubes blocked
43、 by lymph nodes, about lymphocytes and phagocytic cells.“ . to empty, in the left shoulder region, near the thorax, into a large vein of the blood circulating system.“The book shut with a thud.Why didnt they leave him alone? Did they think they could all have him? Were they so stupid they thought th
44、at? Why did they keep coming every night? After five months, youd think theyd give up and try elsewhere.He went over to the bar and made himself another drink. As he turned back to his chair he heard stones rattling down across the roof and landing with thuds in the shrubbery beside the house. Above
45、 the noises, he heard Ben Cortman shout as he always shouted.“Come out, Neville!“Someday Ill get that bastard, he thought as he took a big swallow of the bitter drink. Someday Ill knock a stake right through his goddamn chest. Ill make one a foot long for him, a special one with ribbons on it, the b
46、astard.Tomorrow. Tomorrow hed soundproof the house. His fingers drew into white-knuckled fists. He couldnt stand thinking about those women. If he didnt hear them, maybe he wouldnt think about them. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.The music ended and he took a stack of records off the turntable and slid them bac
47、k into their cardboard envelopes. Now he could hear them even more clearly outside. He reached for the first new record he could get and put it on the turntable and twisted the volume up to its highest point.“The Year of the Plague,“ by Roger Leie, filled his ears. Violins scraped and whined, tympan
48、i thudded like the beats of a dying heart, flutes played weird, atonal melodies.With a stiffening of rage, he wrenched up the record and snapped it over his right knee. Hed meant to break it long ago. He walked on rigid legs to the kitchen and flung the pieces into the trash box. Then he stood in th
49、e dark kitchen, eyes tightly shut, teeth clenched, hands damped over his ears. Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone!No use, you couldnt beat them at night. No use trying; it was their special time. He was acting very stupidly, trying to beat them. Should he watch a movie? No, he didnt feel like setting up the projector. Hed go to bed and put the plugs in his ears. It was what he ended up doing every night, anyway.Quickly, trying not to think at all; he went to the bedroom and undressed. He put on pajama bottoms and went
