Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 44 — page 74: what you’re looking at

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

THE STAR VIRUS have been lost since I stopped writing. It is now 1310 hours; I drove up here at 1230, then writing, then twenty minutes for moving the car. Peter must have switched the coffee pot on about 0900 this morn- ing. That gives me until 1545 or, at the latest, 1600 hours. That means I haven’t got more than three hours. And there’s no flying today, so they won’t expect me back at the airstrip until after dark; but they’re sure to come looking for me if I’m not back by midnight because we're due off at dawn to- morrow. Then they’ll find the car. I simply dare not drive it back to the airstrip. I’ve parked the car across the track about 500 yards away from the house. The cushions and all the uphol- stery that could be ripped out have been burnt in a sandhole and well covered over. The front axle of the car is jacked up and the rear tyres are flat so that the sunlight is going straight onto the radiator. I think sunlight is polarised until well after mid-day; I don’t know if it will do any good, but I’ve got to the stage where I must try any- thing that looks helpful. Please don’t think I’m mad. 73 The heat outside is fearful and writing here in the house, in front of this damned machine, makes it twice as bad, but I dare not stop writing for a second. - I’ve got to get the story down with just enough details and back- ground to convince you that this is the terrible truth. And to think I’ve never written anything in my life except reports on damaged aircraft. I first got to know Peter about six months ago. Our outfit specialises in mineral survey work, aerial photo- graphy and follow up checks with a magnetometer trailing underneath the aircraft. We came up here with an old Anson and a contract to cover an awful lot of the desert that lies to the west of this area. I never did like the desert, and [I like it a great deal less now it looks as if I’m going to die in it, but you know how the aviation busi- ness lands you in some queer situations. Out here near-neighbours are about a hundred miles apart and I’d noticed this place, about twenty miles west of our airstrip, when we were coming back one even- ing just about sunset. There was the sort of reflection that comiclbooks.conn