Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 54 — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION the man in the maze. And the price of not finding the way was death. Then, suddenly, the passage darted away to the right, and there was a glass door and soft daylight beyond. He covered his face with his arms and crashed through into fresh, smokeless air. He was near collapse, his legs weak as straws. He wanted the feel of something solid to cling to, something that wasn’t a trick, something that wouldn’t fool him and change its location in the scheme of things. An anchor. He was crying like a child, and the tears blurred every- thing. He blundered into something and grabbed it. This was what he sought. He hugged it, and the blood from his cut fingers trickled down the bole of the tree. The house crepitated behind him. But he was safe out here so long as he didn’t let go. A tree has roots—deep roois. He clung there, timelessly. Presently he was dully aware that people were moving around him, talking to him, trying to persuade him to let go. Of course, they were trying to persuade him back into the house. How they lied and cajoled! “Let us take you home,” they said. People! As if anyone could ever trust people! They only want to use you for ex- periments. He would never, never let go of that tree. : Distantly, through the gol- den evening air, came the clang and siren of a fire engine. comicloooks.conn