Astounding British Edition, Vol. 9, No. 7 — page 53: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

a Se eee Leeks - NIGHTMARE BROTHER iS wall, he could see nothing but the reflec- tion of another wall, and another. Down on his hands and knees, he crept about the room—four, five, six walls—was it seven and eight? Or was he repeating? He couldn’t tell. Every glance drew his eyes back to the horrible, changing arm, until with superhuman control he _ reached down, seized the writhing thing with his good hand, and wrenched it away, a twist- ing, quivering, jellylike mass. And the stump continued to melt and change, and he couldn’t see anything but the mirror. A thought slid through his mind, and he caught it, frantically, a straw in the wind. Reflection. He couldn’t see anything but the reflection. How many walls? He couldn’t count. He couldn’t be sure. But he had to get out of that room, he had to get out! He closed his eyes, closing out some of the brilliant light, bringing the piercing screams still closer to his mind. Slowly, painfully, he backed up to the wall of the room, keeping his eyes tightly closed, refusing to follow his actions in the mirrors, groping behind with his good arm, seeking over the smooth surface— A crack. Follow it. Smoothness— then metal. A knob! With a cry that was half a sob of relief he twisted the knob, felt the wall give, slipped outside onto rough, uneven ground with his eyes still closed, and slammed the door behind him. “He stood panting as the grinding and the screams peeled away like a cloak, leaving him in absolute, almost palpable silence. There was light. He opened his eyes, then closed them again with a swift gasp, his mind rocking with shock and fear. Cautiously he opened them a slit, peering down, fighting back the terrible, age-old fear, and then slammed them shut again in a rush of vertigo. He was standing on the top of a thou- sand-foot pinnacle! Instantly he fell down flat, gripping the smooth edges of rock with a desperate grip. The section of that flat rock on which he stood was the size of a coffin, six feet long and three wide. Above him was a cool, blue sky with fleecy white clouds. But on all sides, inches from where he stood, was a sheer, cruel, breath- taking drop to the pounding sea below. A shadow passed over him, and» he glanced up, tense, fearful. High above he saw huge black wings, a long, naked red neck, cruel talons, black and shiny, and a hooked beak that glinted in the sunlight. A bird like he had never seen before, sweeping down toward him, then away, making huge circles in the bright blue sky. A bird far larger than he, with evil little button-eyes that stared down at him, unblinking—he sobbed, clinging for dear life to the rock, watching the bird circling lower and lower. Why? Why didn’t they stop this torture? Why didn’t they stop it, bring him back? He sensed that the end was near—his strength was failing, his will was failing. Little streamers of hopelessness and des- pair were nibbling at his brain, despair in holding out much longer, despair that was almost overpowering the fear of death which had sustained him so long. The bird was so low he could hear the hungry flap of its wings as the steel-tipped talons scraped nearer and nearer to his shoulders. He peered over the edge of the precipice, seeking some kind of des- cent, some toe hold, finding none. He had to get down, he could never fight the creature. He blinked down at the blue water so far below. To climb down Be) ? t Ny bt bead es rs A @ , Ca would be imbecility. He could feel the - shredded end of his arm, loose in the cloth of his sleeve. With only one arm to hold on with, he couldn’t hope to fight off the bird, even if there were a way to climb down. A steely talon ripped his shirt as the bird skimmed by, sending a stab of pain through him, crystallizing his mad idea into action. Such a sheer drop above the water could mean a sheer drop below its level. An impossible choice, but there was nothing else to do. Taking a gasp of air he edged to the rim of the drop, gathered his strength, and threw himself off into space—and pure hope. The water struck with a horrible impact, . driving the wind from him, but he fought desperately toward the surface with his good arm, waiting for release, his mind begging that they would now be satisfied, that now they would stop, bring him back, not make him take any more. Finally he broke surface, and then, quite abruptly, felt solid ground under his feet. Glancing COMM. NOOKScSe aie