Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 72 — page 105: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION when there weren’t any meteor shields.” I heard a step behind me, but I thought it was the photographer. “Is that something im- portant?” the reporter asked insultingly. “Tmportant——”’ I felt my anger beginning to get out of control. But I was interrupted by a quiet voice behind me. ““No,”’ the voice said quietly. “It wasn’t important.” I whirled around and saw MacNab standing behind me. His flesh was pale, and the planes of his face were frozen into a slender mask. Even the reporter was abashed by the quiet dignity. “What I mean, is——’’ the reporter faltered. “‘Well, if it realiy was important—but then, you see it happened so long ago—well, you certainly couldn’t call it news—but——” “It wasn’t important,” MacNab repeated with finality. Then he turned to me. “I’ve got the ship firing,”’ he said. ‘“We can leave now.” I started to turn and follow 104 him out, when there was a low rumble, then a roar—the devastating roar of the world coming to an end. The frame building of the store shivered and trembled as if a gigantic hand was shoving it around. “The mine!” old Sam gasped in a shrill, bleating voice. “Those explosives!” I. yelled an answer. Ali of us were running for the door. The photographer was blocking it with his equipment. I was able to feel a faintly malicious taste of glee as I pushed him, hard, to one side and plunged through. MacNab was directly behind me, running fast. We rounded the corner of the building, and saw the open shaft of the mine en- | trance in the hill back of the store. Smoke and dust were pouring out of it, and I saw the figure of a man stumbling through. | “Faster,” I gasped. “Oh, those fools. That condemned explosive!” The reporter had caught up with me now, and MacNab was drawing ahead. Far be- comiclooks.cormn | - ; ‘ d : ; '