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The narrator discovers that the world around him has pretty much been deserted.
"To the left, through miles of suburban streets, lay the open county; to the right, the West End of London, with the City beyond. I was feeling somewhat restored, but curiously detached now, and rudderless. I had no glimmering of a plan, and in the face of what I had at last begun to perceive as a vast and not merely local catastrophe, if was still too stunned to begin to reason one out."
"I did not find the problem of feeding as easy to deal with as it should have been. And yet there were the shops, untenanted and unguarded, with food in the windows-and here was I, with hunger and the means to pay. Or, if I did not wish to pay, I had only to smash a window and take what I wanted."
The Day of the Triffids