Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 50 — page 115: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION every word. And then, ab- ruptly, all noise ceased, foi- lowed by an ominous thud. The Kid came out of the office, his face white. He said three words. “T’ve killed him!” Naturally, we were called in. The Doc, however, was puzzled. There wasn’t a mark on the corpse. He glanced up at me. 3 “This guy wasn’t murdered! He died of heart failure.” The Kid just stood, looking down at the corpse, muttering to himself: “I killed him...” over and over. It. was begin- ning to get on my nerves. I told him to shut up and turned to the Doc. “Sure, Doc? After all, the kid says he killed him.” “T’ll arrange an autopsy, of course,’ said the Doc, “‘but I don’t think there is any. doubt about it. The Kid’s upset; doesn’t know what he’s saying. I tell you there isn’t a mark on the corpse.” I turned to the Kid. “How about that? Why d’yeu say you’ve killed him ?” The Kid turned to look at me, and his eyes held an expression which chilled me. He said, coldly and deliber- ately: “I killed him.”’ He turned and walked to- wards the door, but a sergeant moved to bar his way. The Kid said: ““Get—away — from — that — door!” I just gaped. “The cheek of the runt,” I said. ““And where do you think you’re going?” all sarcastic like. Without turning, the kid said: “I’m leaving. Tell your sidekick here to move over if he wants to go on living.” The situation was ludicrous. Here was a runt of a kid trying to act tough. I almost laughed outright. I think I might have at that, except for the shock I got the next moment. The sergeant, grinning con- fidently, grabbed the Kid’s arm. *“Now, sonny,” he began. The Kid looked at him and the sergeant’s face twisted with pain. He clutched at his head, howling, and then flop- 114 comiclooks.conmn