Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 122: what you’re looking at

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

THE CREEP She smiled when the thoughts dried out in an instant and left no impression of fear. If the watch was radioactive, it was too late now to begin worry- ing. She smiled also at Sam’s stubbornness in not removing the watch. And she realised with new understanding that her present attitude of indolent acceptance was the same as his had been all along—with one difference: she hadn’t the slightest shred of belief that the Creep was killing her. She lifted Sam’s wrist to peer at the watch. It regis- tered seven o’clock. When she released Sam’s hand, it flopped back on the table. She had another smile to herself as she thought of the hangover he would have when he woke. Then the noise started and the mood and the moment were gone. If the bar hadn’t been quite so still she might have put the noise down to imagination. But she had been so keenly aware of the silence, she knew the sound coming from the blocked doorway was real. 121 In an instant she was fully alert, all her senses geared to fight any danger, any further threat to snatch life from her grasp. “Sam,” she whispered. “Sam, wake up. There’s some- body trying to get in.” The whisper was lost in the darkness. Lena lifted Sam’s arm and ducked out under it. She felt in the newsman’s pockets until she found his lighter. By the light of its pressured flame she found the candle on the table and kindled the wick. “Sam,” sherepeated, louder, staring across the bar, trying to penetrate the gloom. When there was still no response to her entreaty, she cuffed him ungently. “Wake up, you drunken sot!” she said. Sam lifted his head long enough to say: ““Go ’way,” and lolled into sleep again. The sound at the door was getting louder. In other cir- cumstances it might have been possible to duck Sam’s head under water or force him sober with hot, black comiclooks.com