The Only Human

by Rick Mofina

  Ty looked at the shore and found no options.

  He’d have to swim the rest of the way.

  He slipped over the side and into the East River.

  The cold water took his breath away as he started swimming. He used easy breast strokes, telling himself to remain calm and take it slow. He soon acclimatized to the water and his circulating blood helped warm him.

  But as he continued with his steady strokes, something felt wrong. Maybe it was the stress of being an overworked, underfed prisoner, or the emotional toll of seeing his parents enslaved, or his physically punishing climb out of the chimney, but his muscles began cramping.

  His arms and legs had become as heavy as steel and Ty struggled to move them. He swallowed water triggering a gagging coughing fit. When Ty recovered from it, he spotted a plastic milk jug bobbing near him and he grabbed it for buoyancy. He was dizzy from the coughing and his head grew heavy. As he fell into a dim half-conscious state, he ordered his legs and arms to keep moving, and prayed that a current could carry him the rest of the way.

  The shore was now so achingly close, less than sixty yards away.

  The horizon rose and dipped as Ty’s mind blurred.

  30

  Ty’s eyes flicked open.

  Dazed and face down on the shore, water lapping around him, he started coughing and spitting up brine.

  Seagulls screeched a warning. He was being watched.

  A rumpled man in his forties with a beard and long hair sat near him on a rock, casually peeling an apple with a knife.

  “You all right there, kid?” The man chewed on a slice of apple. “I saw that you were breathing and figured I’d just leave you, til you come to.”

  Ty pulled himself to his feet, his mind reeling with confusion. He must’ve passed out and floated the rest of the way to shore and this vacant lot. As Ty stared at the man, a sudden wave of panic rolled over him. He stepped back, put on his goggles and studied the stranger until he was satisfied that he was human.

  “What the hell you doing, kid?”

  “Nothing, just being sure.”

  “What?” The man shook his head. “I swear some people have gone crazy these days. Where’d you come from?”

  Ty pointed to North Brother Island.

  “Are you nuts? That place is abandoned. It’s stupid to go out there. Those old buildings ain’t safe and you could fall down an old shaft. What’d you do, swim?”

  “My boat sank. Mister, is that yours?” Ty nodded to a van with a trailer and the words: Jeff’s Hot Dog Cart Repair, painted on the side.

  “Yeah. What were you doing on the island?”

  “Nothing, sir. Guess I got lost.”

  “Lost? You in some kinda trouble? Just how do you come to risking your life at that godforsaken place?”

  “It’s a long story, sir.”

  “My nephew’s about your age and he stays clear of trouble. Where’re your folks? Want me to call them?”

  “They’re away. Mister, I really need to get to the Goliath Building fast. Can you help me get there?”

  The man weighed Ty’s request, assessing him while munching on his final slice of apple. Thinking for a moment then tossing the core, he stood.

  Ty’s eyes followed the apple core bouncing on the rocks.

  “All right,” the man said. “Seeing as I got deliveries in mid-town and Battery Park, it’s on my way. So I’ll take you. But you ain’t getting in my truck like that. I can smell you from here. You’re a mess. I got some stuff in my truck you can wear.”

  The man had clothes that belonged to his nephew.

  “I take him to ball practice since his dad died.”

  He gave Ty jeans, a t-shirt and a ball cap. After Ty cleaned up and changed, they got in the van and wheeled away.

  “I have my lunch at that spot when I can. I like the peace and looking at the river. That’s when I saw you,” the man said as they got onto the expressway.

  “Thank you for helping me, sir.”

  “Call me Jeff. What’s your name, kid?”

  “Ty.”

  “I can hear your stomach growling, Ty. I got some ham sandwiches, some cupcakes and water in the lunch bucket behind you, help yourself.”

  Ty grabbed the food. As he ate, Jeff took stock of him.

  “What’s really up with those goggles?”

  “I need them.”

  “What’s your deal? Is it an eye problem?”

  “Something like that. I just need them.”

  “Whatever. You’re a weird little dude, Ty. Besides, nothing surprises me these days. Seems the whole city’s gone to hell, if you’ll pardon my French.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What do I mean? There’s lotsa people looking for people, lotsa rumors about disappearances and strange things. It’s crazy. You’ll see,” Jeff said as they crossed the Triborough Bridge.

  It wasn’t long after they’d started rolling south on FDR drive when Ty saw groups of flying, dark dots weaving among the skyscrapers. When the van got closer to midtown Ty adjusted his goggles. He zoomed in and his stomach knotted as the dots emerged to be gargoyles.

  Dozens of them.

  Patrolling the city. It was worse now, Ty thought, way worse.

  “You look like you see something ugly.”

  “Don’t you see them?” Ty pointed up.

  Jeff leaned forward over the wheel and looked.

  “See what? The buildings?”

  “Them!” Ty jabbed his finger at the sky. “The gargoyles! They’re taking over. That’s what’s going on, it’s the curse!”

  “There’s nothing up there.”

  Ty pulled off his goggles.

  “Look through these!”

  Jeff hesitated, double-checked his driving then held the goggles to his eyes and quickly searched the sky above Manhattan while minding the road.

  “Do you see them now?” Ty asked.

  “I see nothing but buildings.”

  “Keep looking!”

  Careful with his driving, Jeff made another effort with the goggles before handing them back.

  “No, there’s nothing up there. You sure you’re okay? Maybe I should take you to a hospital.”

  Ty slid his goggles back on without answering.

  Jeff let it go and concentrated on his driving. They left the expressway and navigated midtown traffic, making their way west for the first delivery: a vendor named Ramon Carlos Madeira, who was waiting near Times Square. Horns blasted when Jeff double-parked his van. While he and Ramon worked at rolling Ramon’s cart from the trailer and testing it, Ty got out of the van, keeping his goggles on.

  As he took stock of Times Square he caught his breath.

  Squadrons of winged demons circled above the glittering chaos of blazing billboards and giant video screens. The gargoyles glared down like overlords at the oblivious crowds shuffling through the square.

  Why am I the only one who can see them?

  The people of New York may not have known all that Ty knew but it was clear that more of them were now aware that something terrible had befallen the city. That fact was summed up by the headlines flowing across the electronic news tickers: Number of missing climbs to ‘tens of thousands’. Official explanations ‘unacceptable’ say family groups. ‘We want the truth.’

  We’re being conquered, that’s the truth, Ty thought. We’re being enslaved to be exterminated.

  Ty saw police officers everywhere, enveloped in glowing lucid spheres of watery light, constantly changing in color and intensity.

  Every cop he saw was really a gargoyle.

  Then Ty noticed that one section of Times Square was under construction. The area was protected with a wire fence that was papered with hand-made “Missing” flyers, maybe thousands of them.

  “Missing: Have you seen our son?” “Missing: Our dad was last seen at Penn Station.” Each poster had details and a photograph. The faces of the lost stared out from an endless wall of poster after poster, lik
e a patchwork quilt of pain and hope.

  Ty stopped in his tracks when he saw one with Ella’s picture.

  “Missing: Help me find my daughter, Ella Shaw.”

  The details stabbed at Ty’s heart.

  He covered his face with his hands and thought of Ella’s dad, of all the worry he was enduring. Maybe Ty should call him and tell him everything. As he stared at Ella’s face, he thought of her, his mom, his dad and the thousands of people taken prisoner underground. Ty knew, now more than ever, that he had to get to the Goliath Building.

  He had to remove the curse.

  Frantic shouting distracted him.

  “They’re here! They walk among us! They’re here!”

  Near where Ty stood, a homeless man with a scraggily white beard, wearing an overcoat and hoodie, had raised his fist to rant at the news tickers while turning and shouting at the people passing by.

  “Don’t you see? They’re here! It’s the end of days! It’s our curse! Pray for our avenger!”

  Ty seized on the slim hope that this street prophet, who everyone ignored, knew something. Maybe he had the same power of vision that Ty had with his goggles. But before Ty could approach him, three gargoyles, who to the world looked like cops, wrestled the man to the ground.

  “Stop resisting arrest!” one of the gargoyle-cops growled.

  A crowd gathered.

  “Hey, why’re you guys doing this?” a man wearing a Knicks T-shirt asked. “The old guy’s got a right to preach. He wasn’t hurting nobody.”

  “You shut up!” a gargoyle-cop said.

  “This is a free country!”

  “Yeah!” Others in the crowd agreed.

  “I’ll give you one more warning!” the cop said.

  “Everyone back off!” Another gargoyle cop ordered.

  The prophet moaned in pain to the metallic snap of handcuffs. As the gargoyle cops jerked him to his feet and marched him to a police van, one of the gargoyles looked directly at Ty.

  Thick curved horns curled from his demonic, scaled head. He opened his salivating jaws to bare his fangs. His bulging eyes burned with red ferocity in his swirling light as he shifted to his human form and pointed his baton at Ty.

  “Him! He’s a troublemaker! We want him, too!”

  Ice shot up Ty’s spine.

  He backed away, disappeared into the forests of people jamming the square and ran.

  31

  Ty’s heart pounded as he shoved his way through the clog of people in Times Square.

  In blind panic he tried to remember where Jeff had parked. As Ty’s fear mounted, he searched left, right, in all directions until the sound of his name came like a lifeline.

  “Ty!” Jeff was waving from behind the wheel of his van. “Over here! I’ve been looking for you! Come on, man, we gotta go!”

  Ty climbed into his seat, slammed his door and Jeff pulled away.

  “Where were you, man? I looked for you. I’m late for my next delivery.”

  They were lucky to catch a green light. Still breathing hard, Ty fixed his gaze on his side mirror as they put Times Square behind them.

  Jeff shot glances at Ty.

  “What’s up with you, still wearing those glasses and breathing like you’re scared outta your mind?”

  “They’re after me! They want me dead!”

  “Who’s after you? What’re you talkin’ about? I swear this town’s gone nuts!”

  Ty noticed that the sky had darkened with a sudden flicker of light as –

  “Lookout!”

  The gaping jaws of a gargoyle appeared before them as a huge dragon-headed flying beast the size of a car swooped at them. The talons of its powerful scaled legs were outstretched and smashed through the windshield in a bid to snatch Ty – the way an eagle takes fish from a lake.

  Ty dropped to the floor of the van which rocked and rattled like a tin can from the impact. Jeff struggled with the wheel, swerving in midtown traffic. Tires squealed, horns blasted, the van filled with wind-driven glass and debris as the windshield disintegrated.

  “What the hell was that?” Jeff steadied the van. “I didn’t see it! Was it a rock? Something fall off a building?”

  “It was a gargoyle.”

  “A gargoyle?”

  “Above ground, only I can see them through these.” Ty tapped his goggles, gasping. “I told you, they’re after me! Oh no! It’s coming back!”

  The gargoyle pivoted atop the skyscrapers and dove at them from behind. Its massive talons pierced the roof, lifting the entire van some ten feet in the air, tearing a chunk away before dropping the van to the street.

  “What the --!” Jeff screamed. “I don’t see anything! What’s going on?”

  “Just keep going! Don’t stop! I have to get to the Goliath Building!”

  “Okay, okay.” Jeff battled to understand while brushing glass from his hair and beard. “I’m just trying to help people sell hotdogs, man! This whole city’s gone crazy! My insurance is going to freak! Who’s going to pay for my windshield and roof?”

  Ty searched the sky, bracing for more attacks which didn’t come as they progressed down 7th Avenue. The Goliath Building was about twenty blocks away.

  They made good time.

  No other attacks came.

  Everything looked good as they arrived at 24th Street.

  They were stopped for a red light alongside a crowded MTA bus. At first Ty saw nothing unusual about the bus but when he heard muffled pleas he noticed all of its windows were shut. Passengers had slammed their palms to the glass, banging against it, their faces filled with fear. A woman was sobbing uncontrollably. Another woman held a sheet of paper against their window with the scrawled words: HELP US! Ty’s attention went to the driver, who was enveloped in a translucent aura.

  Gargoyle!

  As Ty watched the bus roar away, sirens wailed and a police car pulled up behind their van.

  “Damn,” Jeff slid his transmission into park. “He’s probably going to ticket me for no windshield! Well, it wasn’t my fault!”

  Ty studied his passenger mirror and saw two gargoyle cops exit the car and approach on either side. His ears pounded from the blood rush.

  “What’re you doing?” Jeff asked as he fished out his license and registration.

  “I can’t let them arrest me!” Ty whispered. “The building’s nearby! I gotta go, sorry. Thanks, Jeff!”

  Ty climbed into the back of the van, waiting until the gargoyle cops were nearly at the doors of the van before he quietly opened one of the rear doors and slipped out the back.

  He crawled under the trailer. Keeping his chest on the pavement he turned his head to watch the large clawed feet, the scaled dragon’s tails scraping against the road as they questioned Jeff as police officers.

  “Where’s your passenger sir?”

  “I don’t have a passenger.”

  “You were witnessed picking up a passenger in Times Square, he’s a wanted subject!”

  “Sorry officer. As you can see there’s no one else in the van but me.”

  “Please step out of the vehicle, sir.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re under arrest for obstruction!”

  Ty heard the door open, Jeff’s protests, then a scuffle.

  Suddenly Jeff’s face was on the ground, and the instant he saw Ty he mouthed the word: Run!

  Ty crawled from under the trailer and ran as fast as he could without looking back.

  32

  Ty could see the Goliath Building.

  As he ran toward it, images of Jeff’s capture, the terrified people on the bus, and the gargoyle’s attack, burned through his mind. Thoughts of his mom, his dad, Ella and the thousands enslaved, tore at his heart.

  Only he could end the torment by going to the top of the building and removing the curse. Ty looked up at the edifice. Its towering gothic presence dominated the surrounding structures and cast a shadow over Madison Square Park, filling him with trepidation.

 
I don’t know if I can do this.

  Walking on the Manhattan Bridge was one thing, and climbing up the chimney to escape the island was another. But the Goliath Building, once the world’s tallest skyscraper, soared sixty stories into the sky!

  Looking up through his goggles, Ty saw the battalion of gargoyles jutting from the top of the building. There were ten at each compass point, forty in all, forming a glorious and menacing crown. In keeping with the curse, this was the elite group of revenge demons leading the revolt.

  Why aren’t they moving? They’re just staring out at the city.

  He froze when he reached the entrance.

  Is this where the beasts are controlling their domination and destruction of humanity?

  Ty was apprehensive until the sudden scream of distant sirens underscored the urgency, compelling him to enter.

  The polished stone floors reflected the light filtering through the stained-glass dome that capped the lobby’s four-story ceiling. The walls were lined with ornate pillars, tall potted palms and gleaming gold elevator doors, giving the foyer an air of majesty as well-dressed people moved through it going about their business.

  It’s like they’ve got no clue what’s happening to the city, or they’re numbed by it.

  As Ty approached the huge wooden security desk, he was met with the piercing gaze of a guard who’d locked on to him over his bifocals.

  Ty kept his goggles on, relieved that the guard, like everyone else in the lobby, so far, was human. But his relief was short-lived given the cool way the guard appraised him, running his eyes all over him, shaking his head with disapproval.

  Ty was conscious of his ill-fitting clothes, filthy from crawling on the asphalt of 7th Avenue; that he was dirty, sweaty and still smelled of the East River. He didn’t look like someone who belonged in this busy building.

  “Can I help you?” the guard asked.

  Lights blinked on the console, phones rang softly. Ty’s mind raced as he struggled to remember Lotta-Maria Olofsson’s instructions on what he had to do here.

  “Yes, can I help you?” the guard repeated louder.

  Ty began muttering.

  “The parchment and the amulet …”