by Rick Mofina
Ty struggled to regain control and at that moment saw the massive flat boat in the East River loaded with the colossal monument from Great Works: the world’s largest gargoyle, en route to replace the Statue of Liberty. Its size commanded awe and underscored his mother’s warning:
On the day the gargoyles replace the Statue of Liberty with their monument, they will start getting rid of the weak and the sick.
Given the speed of the barge, Ty figured that the monstrosity would be in place by dawn.
There was no time and no turning back.
Propelled by the images of his mother, father, Ella, and all the suffering, Ty broke the bonds of his fear.
As careful as a tightrope walker he stepped onto the sleeping gargoyle while below the night life on Park Avenue and 27th Street flickered like the surface of a distant planet.
The wind whipped his clothes and a thunderous wailing rose as the other gargoyles strafed and swarmed him in relentless dive-bomb attacks.
The supreme demon came to life.
Breathing and writhing, it raised its vile head, thrusting it at Ty’s, stopping one inch from his face, holding it eye-to-eye before pulling away. Ty trembled with overwhelming fear and repeated the incantation. Suddenly the sky crackled as the great beast unfolded its magnificent wings. Its tail coiled like a scorpion’s as it struck at Ty stopping within in a hair’s breadth of his head.
At that instant Ty saw the words on the parchment come to life and swim before his eyes forming a message in English:
Fight from your heart, Tyler!
Gusts tore the parchment from Ty’s hands. He reached for it but it fluttered away like a frightened bird, disappearing into the night. Ty cried out for he feared that now he was defenseless.
A deafening rumbling sounded. Ty’s stomach lifted and his heart skipped as the gargoyle nosedived to the street with Ty on his back.
Wind rushed at him, around him and through him as the street raced up before the creature pulled out of the plunge with supersonic speed. Ty nearly passed out from the g-force as the beast rocketed straight up. Ty hung on to its scales for his life, tucked his head down to breathe, thankful that the goggles protected his eyes.
He never stopped chanting the incantation.
Then the battalion of elite revenge gargoyles lifted off from the Goliath Building, joining the chief demon over the skies of Manhattan. They continued their assault on Ty, flying within inches of him, lashing at him, raking their claws at him, flicking their tails. They never touched him but their fight to stop his undoing of the curse was unrelenting.
Blazing first through Lower Manhattan, the supreme beast summoned the fierce gargoyles of The Trinity Building, The Woolworth Building, Pace University and others. They sailed north over the city, their formation growing. They collected the creatures from the Jefferson Market Branch of New York Public Library, the hideous monsters from Church of the Immaculate Conception, the alien beings perched on the Salk School of Science.
Their ancient wings stirred the winds, amplifying their demonic screeching. They were joined by the small gargoyle army from the buildings of East 19th Street and the soul-less evil flyers from the New York Insurance Building, the monsters of Broadway, Park and Madison Avenues. They soared amid Manhattan’s skyscrapers in blinding, dizzying arcs as their group grew to include the terrifying demons from St. John the Baptist Church, the Farmers’ Loan & Trust Building, the Berkshire Bank, the Bedford Hotel and the Wilshire Plaza.
As they moved north, crouching skeletal beings leapt from the Church of the Blessed Sacrament to join them, as did the cluster of angry beasts along Riverside Drive and the apocalyptic gargoyles of St. John the Divine. The group continued uptown, gathering more monsters from the great nest of gargoyles at the Riverside Church.
In all, there were gargoyles and grotesques from more than one hundred locations in Manhattan.
So many, their numbers filled the night sky as they unleashed their great wrath in all-out battle with Ty.
His arms and muscles ached.
But he refused to give up his grip, and crying out the incantation.
The gargoyle king blasted straight at a glass-front building, pulling up at the last second, shooting to the heavens then plummeting down again. The beast now flew even more wildly among the wicked horde, radically looping and doing high-speed mid-air flips.
Then the unthinkable happened.
Ty lost his grip and fell toward earth screaming.
The street raced up at him as he plunged between two tall buildings. Their mirrored windows blurred by, traffic below rushed up at him. Suddenly he was snatched by another gargoyle that accelerated skyward.
What was happening?
Had he lost all protection? Or was there more to undoing the curse than anyone knew?
Had he failed?
Ty lost his mind to fear but kept chanting the incantation.
No matter what the beasts did they couldn’t stop him.
Time was running out.
Finally, the lead demon seized Ty and they flew south over Manhattan, blazing past One World Trade Center, over Battery Park and the Hudson River.
The tiny lights of buoys and boats winked below from the black water as they passed Ellis Island and approached the glorious Statue of Liberty whose crown and torch glowed in the night. Ty drew strength from the beautiful sculpture and all she stood for.
They flew directly above it and he saw the gargoyles’ colossal monument docking at Liberty Island.
The end was coming.
Sunrise was breaking in the east but the sky failed to brighten for the gargoyle hordes were so great in number they blotted out the dawn. They circled the Statue of Liberty, wailing, shrieking. They circled faster and faster creating a great whirlwind of biblical proportion.
Amid the calamity, the demon king dropped Ty on the very tip of the crown’s center spike and landed before him with a thud.
Ty’s heart fled from his body at the dizzying height but he had no time to move. The demon made its slow repulsive crawl along the spike toward him, flicking its forked lizard’s tongue at him.
As the frightening winds churned around Ty, he stared directly into the gargoyle’s hateful eyes and lashed back with the incantation:
“It is commanded you cease thy foul uprising against humankind, your merciful creators.
I smite thee to pieces ye ravening beasts,
I sink thy vile soul into the oceans of eternal hell,
To return as silent, obedient stone evermore.”
The beast released an earth-shattering screech that rose from the bowels of hell as it suddenly took Ty’s shoulders in its talons and lifted off, leading the demonic horde in a furious, apocalyptic flight.
Ty nearly passed out from the beast’s crushing grip but battled back with the incantation.
As they flew beyond the mouth of the Hudson, he saw the barge with the monument instantly disintegrate into dust and vanish.
They flew beyond the bay and the ocean.
Enraged, they blasted straight up, like artillery fire.
Their assault on the heavens triggered a series of deafening detonations and blinding flashes of light.
The air cracked and quaked with explosions, freeing Ty from the grip of the gargoyle.
Ty hurtled at supersonic speed through the twilight until suddenly everything moved in slow motion.
He saw a breathtaking shower of fireballs plunging into the sea.
After the last one vanished all was calm.
Ty continued floating on the shock wave.
It carried him away peacefully as the sun rose.
36
Dawn.
The skies over Manhattan were tranquil.
But across greater New York City, early morning radio traffic and news reports were first to signal events as they unfolded, starting with SpotNews99 New York.
“We go now to Kitty Wolfe with today’s morning traffic report. Hey Kitty, it’s not looking good out there.”
&nb
sp; “That’s right Bob. We’re seeing major delays everywhere. Northbound traffic on FDR Drive is halted between 96th and 71st streets. Things have slowed to a crawl along the West Side Highway. It’s a bumper-to-bumper grind on the Long Island Expressway. For the Upper East River crossings, things have come to a standstill on the Queensboro Bridge inbound. Major delays are reported both ways for the RFK Bridge. We’re also seeing major congestion on the inbound and outbound George Washington Bridge, so expect delays there. It’s the same story inbound with the Lincoln and Holland tunnels. Bob, I don’t know what’s going on, but ---”
“Apologies, Kitty. We have to cut to the newsroom and Al Porter with this breaking news report.”
“Bob, less than one minute ago, city officials confirmed that subway trains on the East Side I.R.T. line have stopped because, and this is incredible, people are on the tracks, walking out of the tunnels along the line! We’re also receiving reports of people spotted on the tracks in other subway tunnels. We can’t confirm the number but sources tell us that it could reach into the thousands!
“Officials cannot explain how the people came to be in the tunnels. One NYPD source indicated a link to the recent disappearances after various events, like charter bus incidents, fires, gas main breaks, and evacuations across the city. Another source is looking for any links to reports of today’s pre-dawn explosion, possibly a meteor strike, in the waters off the Jersey Shore. In a bit of good news, no tsunami warnings have been issued.”
“Thanks for that report, Al. That’s Al Porter in the newsroom. Now, as officials make sense of what’s happening, amateur video of that explosion in the waters off the Jersey Shore has been posted on the website of our SpotNews99 TV news affiliate, which now has live coverage….”
37
Out in the East River, deep beneath North Brother Island, a series of explosions shook the underground tunnels and mammoth caverns.
Throughout the Pit, the Great Works and the chamber, events beyond belief took place. The gargoyles and guards vanished – some said they’d turned instantly to dust – while humans were unhurt and walked free.
In the horror zone, where humans had been solidified into grotesque figures, there were more miraculous happenings.
The concrete incasing them, cracked and crumbled allowing the dead human prisoner to emerge alive, dust-covered, stunned, coughing and gasping, but alive. Among them, Ty’s mother and Jackson, the man who’d helped him. Other survivors rushed to their aid. The strong helped the weak and small groups formed larger ones until they became one teeming river of humanity on a long, underground trek to freedom.
Underground at the Second Avenue Subway construction project, somewhere along the 86th street to 104th Street stations, crews were loading rock and muck on the conveyance system when all activity ceased.
The workers stood staring in stunned silence.
A steady stream of people was emerging from the tunnel system.
Women, children and men of all ages were stumbling and staggering from the darkness. They were ragged, covered with grime, their wide-eyed faces were filled with shock and fear. Those strong enough helped the weak as they passed by slowly like people who’d escaped unimaginable horror – like the walking dead.
“Don’t just stand there! We gotta help them!” One of the subway bosses shouted.
The workers rushed to their aid while urgent radio calls were made to the surface. Emergency crews arrived at the site above within minutes and helped bring up the “tunnel people,” as they would come to be known.
Police set up barricades on the street while firefighters and paramedics established treatment areas.
“If you can hear me and you need immediate medical attention, move to a treatment spot now, please!” A paramedic shouted.
All of the tunnel people were skeletal from lack of food and showed signs of exhaustion, symptomatic of forced labor. One emaciated woman was helped by two gaunt men and firefighters to a cot. She was suffering a serious wound to her right leg.
“Can you tell me your name, ma’am?” the paramedic tending to her asked.
“Christina Price,” she said, blinking in the morning light, searching the confusion, the crowds and reporters gathered at the barricades while sirens blared. “My son is Tyler Price! I’ve got to find him!”
“Yes ma’am. You’ve got a severely ulcerated wound there.”
“Tyler! Tyler Price!” Christina shouted.
“Ma’am, please hold still for me.”
“I need to find him! TYLER!”
“Ma’am, we’ll help you look for your son but I’ve got to cleanse this and put a fresh bandage on it for you.”
The tunnel people kept coming to the surface, flooding the area. Above the noise, someone called out Christina’s name in a voice familiar to her.
“Phil!” She called back.
Frantic, she searched the throng of people until her ex-husband appeared before her. He’d lost weight and aged; his face was creased and sallow, yet for Christina it was a gift.
He rushed to her, embraced her and she held him as tears webbed through the dirt on her face.
“Oh Phil!”
“Thank god!” he said. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
“I’m so happy you’re alive!”
“Have you seen, Tyler?”
“He was with me in the Pit.” Christina’s chin crumpled. “But he tried to escape and I don’t know what happened or where he is!”
Phil turned to the nearest cop.
“Officer, can you please help us?”
“What is it, sir?”
“Our son, Tyler Price,” Phil indicated the tunnel. “He was down there with us and we have to find him! He’s thirteen years old!”
38
Not far from the reunion of Christina and Phillip Price, Ella Shaw inched out of the tunnel at the Second Avenue Subway site, helping seventy-six-year-old, Mavis Baker.
Squinting in the sunlight while absorbing the chaos, Ella took care to get the elderly woman to the treatment area. After ensuring Mavis got medical attention, Ella begged a paramedic to let her use her phone.
“Please! I need to make one call! Please!”
“Sweetheart, tell me the number and I’ll dial it for you.”
Ella gave her the number. The paramedic keyed in the digits, waited, then passed her the phone.
“It’s ringing.”
Ella listened. When the connection broke a man said: “Hello?”
“Daddy, it’s me!”
A moment of disbelief passed.
“Ella! Ella is that really you?”
“Please come and get me!” Ella broke down, shaking her head to the paramedic, “I don’t know where we are!”
The paramedic took the phone and gave Ella’s father specific directions and a promise to watch over his daughter until he arrived to get her.
“We’ll take care of her until you get here, Mr. Shaw.”
39
The NYPD’s Midtown Precinct South is housed in a drab, low-rise brick and glass building, on West 35th Street between Eighth and Ninth Avenues.
The walls of the squad room were lined with file cabinets, corkboards bearing maps, crime stats, wanted posters and duty schedules. The room was a maze of standard, city-issued metal desks.
Detective Bernie Delvecchio had been at his desk, on the phone since his shift started this morning. He glanced at the woman sitting across from him, Lotta-Maria Olofsson, a retired professor. Every day, for as long as he’d been on day shift, Professor Olofsson had come to Delvecchio about her friend, Miles Sedgwick, one of the head librarians with the New York Public Library, who’d apparently been arrested. It wasn’t Delvecchio’s beef but he was looking into it.
“Right,” Delvecchio, said into the phone. “Right … Really? ... What? … That’s weird … So he’s good to go? … OK … thanks, Sarge.”
Delvecchio hung up and began writing on a piece of paper.
“Your friend Mr. Sed
gwick will be released from Central Booking in one hour. Here’s the address. I can get someone to drive you there, ma’am.”
“Thank you, but I’ll take a cab.”
“Apparently his arrest was a mistake. Ma’am, on behalf of the NYPD, I apologize. I don’t know what happened.”
“I do,” Olofsson took the address from the detective and stood.
“Excuse me? What happened?”
“It’s a long story,” she smiled. “Thank you, detective.”
40
Further south of the Midtown Precinct, at the 10th Precinct, a police officer approached the door of one of the holding cells.
Keys jingled and he unlocked it.
“You’re free to go, Mr. Stickle.”
The man sat up in his cot, ran his fingers through his long hair then scratched his beard.
“What?”
“You’re being released, Jeff. No charges.”
“You’re pulling my leg.”
“No sir, you’re free to go with our apologies.”
“But you said I was resisting arrest.”
“All charges and infractions are dismissed.”
Jeff squinted at the cop.
“But there was a lot of damage to the windshield and roof.”
“We called your insurance company, they’ll make good on that for you so you can get back to business fixing hot dog carts.”
“Well I’ll be darned.”
“We’re really sorry about what happened. Things just haven’t been quite right lately.”
“You said it!”
Jeff grinned and shook the cop’s hand with big pumps. Deciding that it wasn’t enough, Jeff pulled him closer for a bro hug.
“Thank you, man!”
41
At the Goliath Building, Cal Winston was alone on the roof inspecting the aftermath.
Soft morning breezes rolled over him as he lowered himself to collect a few fragments from the small stones that were scattered everywhere on the terrace floor.
