Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 65 — page 134: what you’re looking at

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

THE CREEP Sam it sounded as if it was important to Harry to know the answer. *“Maybe you can tell us,” Sam said. “You should know. What the hell do you all think I am—an oracle? The city has been bombed. How often is anybody’s guess, but one fell near enough to bring the roof down about our ears. I gave you and everybody else fair warning. I gave you a triple warning. But one thing you can be sure of—it wasn’t the radia- tion level that did this. You can take your pick from the other two. The spheres up aloft or .. . well, ask Harry. He should-know.”’ The bartender was backing off. He said: “‘How should I know? A bomb’s a bomb. What does it matter who launched it?’’ “It matters to you, Harry,” Sam insisted, walking for- ward. The barman rounded the counter. Sam ciosed the gap between Harry and him- self until only the stretch of yard-wide plastic separated them. **Smile, Harry!” he ordered. 133 The barman’s lips twitched at one corner, no more. “Open your mouth and smile!” Sam snarled. “‘Open your mouth wide and let us see your teeth—the steel ones at the back!” Harry gripped the edge of the counter with his podgy, dimpled hands. He didn't speak, but watched Sam warily, and waited. Sam reached out and fin- gered the barman’s gaudy tie. ““This is as false as your teeth,” he said. “But at least it was made in this country. The tie doesn’t de- ceive me, Harry. Nor does the fancy haircut. You look the part all right, but | know, and others know, what you really are. It was pretty clever of you to pick Harr, ‘for a name. Every barman is a Harry. Even the Dolan - wasn’t bad. So much like your real name that there was no risk of betraying yourself by not answering to. it. You can drop the pretence now because you’re in the same fix as the rest of us.” He wrenched the tie savagely from Harry’s neck and added: comiclbooks.conn