Blood Red City by Justin Richards Read Free Book Online

days and weeks, Hoffman was able to suppress the images – to keep them at the back of his mind rather than overprinted on his every thought. He felt some affinity with the Watchers, though he could never tell anyone that, of course. Kruger, the scientist in charge of them, probably put it down to macabre curiosity that Hoffman spent so much time here with them, watching them sleep.
    The girl, Number Seventeen, in particular intrigued him. She had connected to an Ubermensch without the need for a bracelet. The link had been weak and indistinct, but a link nonetheless.
    Looking down at her, apparently sleeping peacefully, Hoffman wondered who she was. Most of them were volunteers, so she had probably been plucked from the League of German Girls – the female equivalent of the Hitler Youth. Had she volunteered for the tests that revealed her innate psychic ability, he wondered?
    He heard the noise as he turned to go. A scratching, scraping sound, so quiet he almost missed it. Hoffman walked slowly round the bed, trying to trace where it came from.
    Her hand was scratching at the sheet, describing a shape on the cotton.
    Hoffman wanted to go home. But for the moment he must continue to be the person he had become, whatever the consequences. Drop his guard for a second, and he would be dead, no matter how resilient his body had become. So he strode over to where a tired nurse sat making notes at a small desk in the corner of the room.
    â€˜Get a pencil and paper quickly,’ he ordered. ‘I think Number Seventeen is drawing.’
    *   *   *
    The cat didn’t need much sleep and it rarely had to rest. Even so, it was a long way to the city. It could have got there quicker by jumping into the back of a truck that stopped for fuel at a gas station on the highway. But the cat didn’t want to be noticed. It kept to the shadows, off to the side of the road.
    When it was hungry, which was not often, it ate, creeping up on small rodents – even unwary birds – and pouncing. With its senses and speed and viciousness all sharpened by the Vril that controlled it, the cat rarely lost its prey.
    It didn’t get impatient, it was just following instructions. But even so, there was a hint of satisfaction somewhere in what remained of its feline brain as it padded to the top of an incline and saw the city in the distance ahead. The tops of the taller buildings appeared first, and then gradually the whole vast expanse of Los Angeles was laid out before it.
    *   *   *
    They propped her up in the bed and she stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused. The pencil in her hand swept over the paper, sketching out a horizon. Then the detail – the buildings, streets, a car approaching along the road leading down the incline.
    One last detail – the same on every sheet – and the drawing was done.
    *   *   *
    The cat watched the car approaching. Not wanting to be noticed, it moved silently and swiftly to the side of the road.
    *   *   *
    Kruger pulled away the drawing as soon as it was finished and handed it to the nurse. She numbered it and added it to a pile at the foot of the next bed.
    Hoffman watched as Number Seventeen started on a fresh picture. Grass and trees, seen from a low angle.
    â€˜They are moving off the road,’ Kruger said. ‘Whoever they are.’
    â€˜Whatever they are,’ Hoffman said. ‘See how low the point of view is.’
    â€˜An animal?’ Kruger wondered. ‘A dog perhaps? And this image over the picture, always the same shape…’
    *   *   *
    The cat watched the car as it drew level. It caught a glimpse of the driver – a young man with curly dark hair.
    The cat turned to watch the car speed away, hissing with irritation that its journey had been interrupted, even though only for a few moments. Mouth wide, teeth bared, saliva spotting the nearest