The Only Human

by Rick Mofina

  “The what? Speak up kid! What do you want?”

  “I need to find the runic word …”

  “The what?”

  “I need to find the ancient word.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m very busy. You’ll have to leave the premises!”

  “NO!” Ty’s voice echoed interrupting conversations nearby, people turned to stare, including an older man who seemed to be in authority as he talked to a work crew.

  “Hey!” the irritated guard pointed at Ty, “You take it down a notch! And take it back to the street, now!”

  “NO! You don’t understand! Professor Blair said I have to find the person in charge of this building!”

  “Keep it down, kid!” the guard stood. “Leave, or I’ll take you outside myself!”

  “What’s going on here?” The older man in the suit moved to the desk.

  “All under control, sir,” the guard said. “This kid rolled in here and is giving me attitude. I’m going to escort him out.”

  “Hold up, Henry.” The older man was calm and turned to Ty, unfazed by his appearance. “Son, did I hear you mention Professor Blair?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bertram Blair?”

  “Yes. He said I have to find the keeper of this building, the man in charge.”

  The man hesitated as if searching his thoughts for something of huge importance.

  “And would this be related to his research?”

  At that moment Ty saw the older man’s nameplate glint and, as if a switch had been thrown, he remembered Lotta-Maria Olofsson’s revelation on finding the building’s keeper, “a man with the initial ‘W’ in his name.”

  The older man’s nameplate read: Cal Winston Building Supervisor.

  He was tall, with saggy eyes, and lines pressing deep into his weary face. His short, dark hair was flecked with white.

  “Yes,” Ty said. “It’s related to his research. He said I would find the person I needed to help me at this building.”

  Winston gazed at Ty.

  “I don’t believe this,” Winston said as a mixture of sadness and wonder filled his deep, soothing voice. “Bertram said it would happen and it did. By God, it did.”

  “Sir?” the old guard asked. “Would you like me to escort him out?”

  “No, thank you Henry. I’ll take care of this,” Winston’s eyes never left Ty. “What’s your name, son?”

  “Ty, Ty Price.”

  “Well Ty, you come with me.”

  33

  Ty and Winston walked away from the bustling lobby to an isolated area and a sole elevator door. Winston swiped his magnetic security card and they took a small elevator to the third floor to his corner office.

  “Have a seat,” Winston indicated the big chair in front of his desk as he took the one behind it. “You look a little rough, Ty. Can I get you something?”

  “May I have some water?”

  Ice clinked in the decanter on the desk as Winston poured Ty a glass and handed it to him.

  “Let’s get to it. Tell me what I should know,” Winston said.

  Ty was glad Winston was kind and receptive but remained wary because they were in the building that was part of the curse. Out of the corner of his eye a dark shadow streaked by the window.

  They know I’m here. What if they attack?

  Ty’s heart began racing again and he kept a watch on the office windows for activity outside as he began telling Winston everything as quickly as he could. The supervisor listened intently, asking a question here and there, soon admitting to Ty that he knew little about the true scope of Professor Blair’s research and the curse.

  “Bertram was an expert on my building’s history and architecture,” Winston said. “And I was happy to help him with his research whenever he visited. But one day he told me that he’d discovered something frightening.”

  “Do you think it related to the curse?” Ty asked.

  “Don’t know. He wouldn’t, or couldn’t, elaborate. He said the city was in danger and that unless I helped, New York, and the world, would change forever. I never believed it and started thinking he was a bit eccentric.”

  Winston paused to ponder something before he continued.

  “And now look at what’s happened. This city has changed and my world has changed, like he said it would.”

  Winston touched a framed photo on his desk of a woman about his age and blinked several times.

  “Dolores, my wife, disappeared last week from the Eighty-Sixth Street subway station. I’ve gone to police, must be forty times now. They seem indifferent, ineffective. I’ve distributed pictures, spent hours looking for her. I can’t sit in an empty house trying to make sense of it. So I come here and go through motions of work, hoping, praying that Dolores will come home. And now, you’re here. Bertram said that someone like you would arrive and that when that day came I had to help. It would be a matter of life and death.”

  “How did you know that I was the one?”

  “Bertam said that the person would know about his work, and that if they reached this building asking for help it meant that they’d succeeded in finding all the right answers to resolving the crisis that would be apparent to much of the city. It never made any sense to me then, but it certainly does now. Have you been to Times Square?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve seen the pictures of the thousands who are missing, or vanished like my wife?”

  “Yes, it’s very sad.”

  “Something vile is happening, Ty, yet we carry on. Some New Yorkers are in denial, some are living in fear.”

  “So you’ll help me?”

  “Absolutely. I want to find Dolores. I want to stop this ‘Trembling’.”

  Ty returned to the key details for undoing the curse and the next steps he had to take. He had to find the one exterior stone of the base of the building that had a runic word carved in it. Winston gave him paper and a pen.

  “Write down the word,” Winston asked.

  Ty swallowed. He’d lost Professor Blair’s notebook, everything. He had to rely on what Lotta-Maria Olofsson told him, and everything that he’d hammered into his memory when he was a prisoner underground.

  He started writing.

  “It looks like this: “.” It means “Avenge.”

  Winston studied it and shook his head slowly.

  “I’ve worked here close to thirty years. I know every inch of this building and I’m not familiar with this. You said your special glasses there will help you find it?”

  “Yes, they’re supposed to.”

  “Let’s get outside and start searching now.”

  Before they left the office two massive flying shadows, one after the other, flashed passed the window. Ty ran to it and scanned the sky above and the street below. He saw nothing.

  “What is it?” Winston asked.

  “They’re out there, like they’re gathering for a battle.”

  “Then we can’t waste time.”

  As they hurried to the elevator, Winston took a walkie-talkie from his jacket and summoned the maintenance staff to meet in the southwest corner of the lobby. When they gathered, he sent them electronic copies of Ty’s marking and gave them instructions to go outside and search for it.

  “It could be microscopic, or emerge in a pattern that’s not so obvious.”

  After Winston dispatched teams to each of the building’s four sides, he and Ty exited and searched the base. The mammoth building occupied a full city block. As they searched, Ty saw flying gargoyles circling above, filling the sky with dread.

  “What is it?” Winston asked.

  “They’re getting ready.”

  Winston paused to search. But he only saw the same gargoyles he saw every day: The lifeless bloodless stone creatures thrusting from the top of his building.

  “Let’s keep looking,” Winston said.

  Ty’s stomach tensed, for he anticipated the gargoyles would strike at any
moment but nothing happened as they searched in vain for a solid hour then another and another, until the day began to slip away. They’d searched carefully without taking a break. Finally, some of the workers asked Winston about going home.

  “We’ve worked beyond our shifts, sir.”

  “Okay, thank you. Those who wish to go may go, but those who stay will be paid overtime.”

  A handful of workers stayed, continuing the search.

  Ty and Winston lost count of how many times they’d circled the block, examining the limestone and granite stone work at the base of the magnificent building.

  “I don’t know what else we can do,” Winston said as twilight neared and they stopped to rest at the plaque commemorating the opening of the Goliath Building. “What if Bertram was just plain wrong about this?”

  “But he’s never been wrong so far,” Ty said.

  “We’ve followed the instructions. I’m at a loss.”

  Ty was exhausted and his attention drifted to the steel plaque celebrating the opening of the Goliath Building in 1913. It honored its owners and builders, the letters rising from the weatherworn face, standing clear through the decades. As Ty studied it, he noticed the bolts in the corners and an idea blazed before him.

  “What about looking behind the plaque?”

  Winston stared at it as if seeing it for the first time. He ran his fingers over the bolts as hope, then determination, blossomed on his face. He reached for his walkie-talkie.

  “Barney, get your tools and come to the plaque!”

  Within minutes the whine of a power drill echoed as the supporting bolts were removed. Then came the grate of metal against stone as the heavy plate was carefully removed from the stone, revealing a time-worn frame of accumulated New York City grime, juxtaposed against a near pristine limestone face.

  “Nothing there,” Winston said. “Do you see anything?”

  Ty ran his hand over the surface, adjusted the apertures of his goggles and shook his head.

  “One moment, sir,” Barney said. “If I may.”

  He began splashing water from his bottle on the surface and wiping it with a cloth, raising a fine hairline, brick-sized square etched in the stone.

  “This looks like a covering skin,” Barney said, reaching for his sander. “Let’s take some off.”

  Again, the buzz of power tools filled the air.

  Amid the small dust clouds, Ty saw the ghostly emergence of the letters:

  “That’s it! I see it! The stone I need to remove the curse!”

  Barney produced a chisel and a hammer and began tapping at the rectangle seam until he was able to loosen the stone. Using a screwdriver and scraper, he wriggled it out like a dresser drawer. Inside was an ornate wooden box. He removed it, blew off the dust and presented it to Ty.

  He lifted the lid to a cylinder of paper and a medallion, no bigger than a quarter, but radiating in silver and gold with runic lettering. It was affixed to a fine chain necklace.

  “The parchment and the amulet! This is it!”

  Out of the night a sudden whoosh-rumble exploded above them and Ty looked up into the gaping jaws of a gargoyle in a death dive aimed at him.

  34

  The beast’s eyes burned with fury as it closed in.

  Ty dodged the swooping attack by flattening himself on the sidewalk.

  The violent air rush driven by its monstrous wings pummeled him with jetliner force as the demon passed within inches.

  Although they saw nothing, Winston, Barney and the others scrambled after the box with the parchment and amulet as it tumbled into the street.

  Ty began crawling, reaching for the box, but before he could recover it a second gargoyle bore down on him with blazing speed. Ty’s clothes tightened and the ground dropped from under him as the creature seized his shirt and pants in its talons. Ty’s foot banged against a car then a stop sign as the beast climbed to tree top level over Madison Square Park. Suddenly Ty’s shirt tore and he slipped from the demon’s grip. He crashed down into a tree, smashing through its leafy branches which broke his fall as he ricocheted into a pile of leaves and grass cuttings which cushioned his landing.

  Ty lay on his back winded with his head throbbing.

  His goggles were on but had slipped over his face. He saw stars dancing in every direction. Soon he heard voices approaching, calling his name. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his head. He was shaken but his eyes came into focus while flashlights raked the park.

  “He’s over there! Are you okay, Ty? Help him to his feet! Get him in the building, hurry!”

  As they carried Ty, his senses returned and once they’d entered the lobby, he was able to stand. His face and arms were bleeding from his scrapes with the trees but he was buoyed when he saw that the others had recovered the box with the amulet and parchment.

  “Are you okay?” Winston asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Good.” Winston slid the amulet over Ty’s neck. “We’ve got no time. Let’s go! Just you and me!”

  He rushed Ty to the elevators where Barney was holding one open. Inside, Winston inserted a key into a panel and turned it. Then he pushed the button above the one for the 60th floor.

  The button was blank.

  As the car sped to the top, he handed Ty the parchment. It was about the size of a paper napkin. Ty unrolled it to look at its neat, ancient script bearing the original incantation that his great great-grandfather and his friend Hugo had written using their own blood. It reminded Ty of Professor Blair’s blood on the street. How he’d given his life to make sure Ty knew how to remove the curse.

  As the chime sounded for each floor they passed, Ty’s heart raced at the enormity of the task awaiting him.

  The elevator stopped at the blank floor and Ty’s pulse quickened.

  “This is a maintenance floor,” Winston said, “the way to the roof.”

  He lead Ty down a barren gray hall with doors marked with various signs, “Electric,” “Utility,” “Supply.” As they progressed, they came to a red metal door with a sign that read: “ACCESS TO ROOF”.

  It was equipped with a key lock and alarm system.

  Winston used his magnetic key and a metal one to disarm the alarm and unlock the door. He was ready to open it but stopped. The door began vibrating from the sudden, wild growling that came from the other side. An ancient, bestial howling that seemed as old as the stones that shaped the Goliath Building itself.

  Ty knew the gargoyles were protecting his target.

  Winston turned to him and shouted over the noise.

  “I know you can do this!”

  Ty nodded nervously and gripped the amulet, remembering Lotta-Maria Olofsson’s assurance.

  While you wear the amulet no harm will ever come to you, no matter what cataclysmic action results, no matter what the beasts do, no matter what you witness.

  “I’m not protected by the amulet!” Winston said. “When I open this door, you’re on your own!”

  Ty nodded.

  The snarling continued and Winston raised his voice even more.

  “You need your parents back, son, and your friend! I can’t go on without my wife! One way or another everyone in this city is counting on you! You’re the only one who can do this!”

  Fear had dried up all the saliva in Ty’s mouth and all he could he manage was a scratchy: “I know!”

  “When you step outside, expect strong winds! From this door, the gargoyle in the northeast corner will be the one with the spires of the bridges over the East River behind him!”

  The growling intensified.

  “Ready?”

  Ty nodded and braced himself.

  35

  Winston opened the door and Ty stepped into the maelstrom.

  What he saw through his goggles took his breath away.

  More than twenty gargoyles, each over ten feet tall, had formed an ungodly forest blocking him. Some of the beasts were on their bellies or crouching, some were hovering, their fla
pping ragged wings and the rooftop winds carried their shrieking. Their twisting, coiling necks and dragon heads gnashed at him. Their inflamed eyes raged as their hot breath, reeking of a million cesspits, enveloped him.

  The gargoyles came within an inch of Ty but never touched him.

  For amid the turmoil there was the steady hum of his nervous runic recitation of the incantation. His amulet gleamed in the night. As he moved forward, holding tight to the parchment, Ty glimpsed the spires of the distant bridges.

  And hope.

  But every step of his progression intensified the gargoyles’ fury. Their growling grew so loud it rattled his ribs. Their serpent-like tongues lashed at him, whip-cracking at his face, hands and groin.

  With unfaltering determination Ty moved on, bit by bit, to the rooftop’s northeast corner, until he reached the edge.

  Here, he found the gargoyle king, demon of the northeast wind.

  The most powerful of all.

  It was lifeless, jutting from the building like a giant tumor. It extended some twenty menacing feet over the vulnerable skyline. Its repellant head was a freakish blend of a lion and a wolf, bearing the curled horns of a ram, like a wicked crown. Its lips were drawn back along its snout over huge, curving razor-sharp teeth.

  Muscles rippled along its dragon’s scaled body, flanked with Herculean arms that terminated with talons. Its massive membranous wings folded back along its slithering, tubular tail.

  This was the spawn of hell.

  Ty was just a 13-year-old kid, from Middle School 104, how could he fight this creature, this prince of Satan?

  As the other beasts continued threshing at Ty, he inched closer to the edge of the building. The terrifying beauty of the city’s lights glittered below him like a sea of diamonds, emeralds, rubies and sapphires, striking him full force with the staggering height at which he stood.

  He was overcome.

  I can’t do this! I can’t!

  Paralyzed with anxiety his knees weakened, he became dazed, bewildered. The world started spinning and he started to teeter.

  Oh God!