Next day, the dawn was a brilliant fiery red, and I wandered through the weird and lurid landscape of another planet. But the vegetation, which gives Mars its red appearance, had taken root on Earth. As man had succumbed to the Martians, so our land now succumbed to the red weed. Wherever there was a stream, the red weed clung and grew with frightening voraciousness, its claw-like fronds choking the movement of the water, and then it began to creep like a slimy red animal across the land, covering field and ditch and tree and hedgerow with living scarlet feelers, crawling, crawling. It was impossible to recognize the route I had taken only yesterday. So engulfed was it by the red weed. It was like walking upon gigantic blood drops. I kept to the road after that, walking steadily towards London. I knew a terrible fear. The red weed had formed a crimson blanket over our world and had threatened to smother all of mankind. I suddenly noticed the body of a parson lying on the ground in a ruined churchyard. I felt unable to leave him to the mercy of the red weed and decided to bury him decently. I gazed down sadly at his ravaged face and then reeled with shock as his eyes flickered open. He was alive. Nathaniel!