by Rick Mofina
He shook them in his closed hand like dice and looked around sadly, thinking of his wife, Dolores as he searched for any sign of the kid.
Winston swallowed hard.
During the night it sounded like the heavens were being ripped apart, as if a great battle was being fought – maybe it was a battle to end the world – who knows? Winston rejected the idea of telling anyone about it.
Who would believe me?
Again, for the umpteenth time, he peered over the side at the lower ledges, then down to the street. He’d already circled the block four or five times since the sun rose.
No sign of Tyler.
It made him wonder if he’d ever see his wife again.
Rippling with apprehension, Winston looked at the gargoyles protruding from the roof. There they were; all forty of them, each one frozen in stone, their vile, bloodless eyes unchanging as they stared into eternity.
He touched the beast facing the northeast corner.
It was cold, lifeless and defeated.
Like it never happened.
Later, as Winston descended in the elevator, he felt the weight of his fatigue. He didn’t get much sleep because he worried through the night. When the elevator stopped, he went to his office and prepared fresh coffee. As the water boiled, his phone rang.
He answered with one word: “Winston.”
A silence followed before a woman said: “Calvin?”
He froze, glanced at the framed photograph of his wife.
“Dolores?”
“Oh Winston,” she sobbed.
“What, where – are you all right?”
“I’m tired, so tired.”
“Tell me where you are, I’ll come right away!”
She gave him the address. He wrote it down and grabbed his jacket. Rushing from his office, he stopped, remembering to shut off his coffee pot. He hurried to the street and waved down a cab. As it pulled over, he gazed up at the gargoyles watching him.
What did you do with Tyler?
42
Across the city, SpotNews99 New York broadcasted an update.
“This just in: another bizarre twist in today’s news: National Park Rangers and the Coast Guard are reporting that a person is trapped on top of the Statue of Liberty, on the exterior of the statue’s crown! How that person got there is a mystery but a rescue operation is underway …”
43
A Coast Guard helicopter dispatched out of Atlantic City, New Jersey, hovered strategically above the Statue of Liberty.
The crew had a visual on the victim, motionless near the center spike of the crown. The pilots concentrated on wind direction and took pains to coordinate the hoist. Once in position, they lowered a crew member to the statue’s head. His job was to load the victim into the rescue basket which was lowered after him.
TV news helicopters circled, zooming in for live coverage.
44
The crowds at the barricades of the Second Avenue Subway construction site watched the hundreds of tunnel people being aided.
The bystanders all stared in disbelief. Some took cell phone pictures or made video recordings, while others kept abreast of events by watching live news reports on their devices.
After Christina Price was treated, she and her husband moved along slowly, inside the barricade, for further processing. As they passed by people, they accepted the kind words of well-wishers. The Prices were close enough for Phillip to notice a news report playing on someone’s tablet. The camera had zoomed in on paramedics loading a patient onto a gurney – the patient was a young boy.
“May we see this?” Phillip asked the woman with the tablet.
“Sure.”
She enlarged the view, pulled out her earplug jack and increased the volume as the news anchor continued.
“… -- no information on the identity of the person rescued from the statue, or his condition, or how he got there. If you’re just joining us, the Coast Guard rescued a young male from the top of the Statue of Liberty. On the outside near the crown! We’re told he’s between eleven and fourteen years of age. He was airlifted to Downtown Manhattan Heliport where paramedics are preparing to transport him to New York-Presbyterian hospital in Lower Manhattan …”
As paramedics moved the gurney, the camera tightened on the patient’s face.
“That’s Tyler!” Christina said. “Phil, that’s Tyler!”
“Yes it is!”
Two cops were standing nearby and Phillip alerted them.
“Officers! We’ve located our son!” He pointed to the tablet and the woman who owned it obliged, holding it up for the police to see. “That’s him! We need to get to New York-Presbyterian hospital in Lower Manhattan as fast as possible. Can you help us?”
“You’re sure he’s your son?” one of the officers asked.
“I’m his mother and I swear to you that’s my son, Tyler Price! We need to be with him at the hospital!”
“Okay, hold tight!”
As one officer began making a request on his radio, the pair escorted Christina and Phillip to the end of the block and out of the scene. A siren yelped and they helped them into a marked squad car. The officers talked briefly with the two officers in the cruiser. More quick radio calls were made then the unit pulled away.
A short time later, the car was roaring southbound on FDR Drive, siren blasting, emergency lights wigwagging. As it cut through traffic, Christina and Phillip held hands. The officer in the passenger seat was relaying information about Ty from his parents to the police dispatcher who was in contact with the hospital.
“Is he okay?” Christina asked. “Please let him be okay!”
The officer checked a text he’d received.
“No life-threatening injuries,” he said.
“Oh thank God!” Christina said.
“That’s good,” Phillip said. “Officer, does anyone know why or how he was on the Statue of Liberty?”
“We don’t have that answer, yet,” the officer said after checking with his dispatcher.
It was not long before the car wheeled into the emergency entrance of the hospital where they were met by a nurse. She led the officers and Prices directly to the room where Ty was being examined.
His face bore cuts and scrapes and he needed a shower.
“Mom! Dad!”
Ty’s eyes lit up as the doctor and nurse stepped aside, allowing his parents to embrace him. Brushing at her tears, his mother saw the IV pole then looked him over while tenderly running her fingers through his hair.
“How are you, sweetheart?”
“I’m okay,” his voice was groggy.
“Was he hurt?” Christina turned to the doctor.
“He’s going to be fine,” the doctor said. “He’s got some lacerations, contusions, a few fractured ribs, some dehydration and mild shock.”
His father saw the goggles and the amulet on the table near the bed.
“Can we talk with him?”
“For a bit, we just gave him a sedative. He’ll be asleep soon.”
Turning to Ty, his father asked: “Do you remember what happened?”
“No, not too much. It was like a nightmare, dad.”
The cell phone of one of the officer’s rang. He answered it and turned away, keeping his voice low. “Okay, put it through,” the cop said. After listening for a moment he turned back to Ty and his family, holding out his phone: “It’s an urgent call from your sister, Ty.”
Christine and Phillip exchange a puzzled look.
“Your sister, Ella,” the cop said.
“Ella!” Ty shot his hand out. “Ella!” Ty said into the phone.
“Are you okay, Ty?”
“I’m okay, what about you?”
“I’m fine. I saw you on TV and I called 911. I’m sorry. I had to lie about being your sister so I could get through to you. I kinda cried – that part was true because I was so worried about you – that they got you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
“I want to know everything that happened.”
“I don’t remember much. It sorta went by like a dream. And I don’t think anyone would believe it, or understand it except maybe the people who helped us.”
“Whatever happened, you did it, Ty! You ended the curse!”
“I guess so.”
“I’ll see you in school later, okay?”
“Sure.”
Ty returned the phone to the officer.
“Who was that?” Ty’s mom asked.
“A friend from school,” he yawned. “A good friend, who helped me.”
Ty’s mother smiled and he yawned again, smiling at her as he put his head onto his pillow. As she rubbed his arm softly, she and Ty’s dad looked at each other, grateful their family had survived. Then, for an intense moment, they recognized in each other’s eyes that there was hope for reconciliation.
“It’s over, Ty,” his mom said. “All the bad stuff is over, you get some sleep and we’ll be right here, waiting for you.”
“Together,” his father said.
Ty pointed to the goggles and amulet on the table beside his bed.
“I need those.”
“Where did you get these things?” His father handed them to Ty.
“From friends along the way.”
Ty held them tight and, as he drifted off to sleep, he floated into a haze, and through the speckled points of light, Professor Blair emerged smiling and nodding approvingly.
“You triumphed, Ty. You’ve triumphed.”
Epilogue
Later that day, the USS Virginia, a navy attack submarine, withdrew from military exercises in the Atlantic for a mission off the Jersey shore.
The vessel was ordered to inspect the costal seafloor after reports of “fireballs,” and “UFOs” entering the waters the previous night.
Guided by coordinates provided by the U.S. Weather Service, the National Oceanic & Atmospheric Administration and the U.S. Navy, the submarine swept a vast area. Using sonar and various state-of-the-art infrared and digital sensors, the crew scoured a grid of the area searching for hostile objects and unstable activity.
Anything that would constitute a threat.
Detecting a range of rock formations, the crew sent live feed images to NASA. After observing the pictures, NASA said the formations were most likely the result of a small meteor breaking apart upon entering the earth’s atmosphere.
The Virginia was ordered to return to the military exercises.
Long after the submarine had turned gracefully and glided from the area, deep down and camouflaged amid the rocky formation on the ocean floor, a bloodless, reptilian eye opened in its socket.
Dear Reader:
I originally published the first edition of The Only Human using the pseudonym Orion Wells. It was not the best idea, and I killed it so the truth could live.
Not only did I write this story, I loved writing it.
I often visit New York City for business. On several occasions, I took my son with me and we went to many of the actual locations used in this story. New York City is a majestic metropolis rich with myths, legends and lore. I drew on them, along with real historical facts, and my imagination, to weave this tale. It may be a story aimed at young readers, but I hope it’s one that all story lovers will enjoy.
Rick Mofina
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rick Mofina is a former crime reporter and the award-winning author of several acclaimed thrillers. He’s interviewed murderers face-to-face on death row; patrolled with the LAPD and the RCMP. His true crime articles have appeared in The New York Times, Marie Claire, Reader’s Digest and Penthouse. He’s reported from the U.S., Canada, the Caribbean, Africa, Qatar and Kuwait’s border with Iraq.
New York Times Bestselling author, Tess Gerritsen, says: “Rick Mofina’s tense taut writing makes every thriller he writes an adrenaline-packed ride.” His short stories have been selected for anthologies by Michael Connelly, Peter Robinson, Ed Gorman, the Mystery Writers of America and the United Kingdom’s, Crime Writers Association.
The International Thriller Writers, The Private Eye Writers of America and The Crime Writers of Canada have listed Rick Mofina’s titles as being among the best in the world.
His books have been published in 21 countries and have been praised by James Patterson, Dean Koontz, Michael Connelly, Lee Child, Tess Gerritsen, Jeffery Deaver, Sandra Brown, James Rollins, Brad Thor, Nick Stone, David Morrell, Allison Brennan, Heather Graham, Linwood Barclay, Peter Robinson, Håkan Nesser and Kay Hooper.
Also by Rick Mofina
WHIRLWIND
INTO THE DARK
THEY DISAPPEARED
THE BURNING EDGE
IN DESPERATION
THE PANIC ZONE
VENGEANCE ROAD
SIX SECONDS
A PERFECT GRAVE
EVERY FEAR
THE DYING HOUR
BE MINE
NO WAY BACK
BLOOD OF OTHERS
COLD FEAR
IF ANGELS FALL
THREE TO THE HEART (Anthology)
DANGEROUS WOMEN & DESPERATE MEN (Anthology)
Praise for the novels of Rick Mofina
BE MINE
“Rick Mofina is writing a fine series of thrillers: Swiftly paced, entertaining, with authentic details of police procedure.” - Dean Koontz, #1 New York Times Bestselling author of The Face and Fear Nothing
BLOOD OF OTHERS
“Tense, realistic, and scary in all the right places.” James Patterson, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author
“Another riveting read from one of the leading thriller writers of the day.” - Penthouse
COLD FEAR
“A powerful gut wrenching thriller.” - The Midwest Book Review
“Bursts with suspense. The action is so intense, the writing so realistic, it’s as if we are there during the search. This is a book to cause icy shivers.” - RT BookReviews Magazine
IF ANGELS FALL
“If you buy it for the flight, you’ll be reading it on the escalator.” - National Post
“Guaranteed to keep readers flipping the pages.” - The Toronto Sun
THEY DISAPPEARED
“Rick Mofina’s tense, taut writing makes every thriller he writes an adrenaline-packed ride.” - Tess Gerritsen New York Times bestselling Author
THE BURNING EDGE
“Tight and excruciating suspense...a winner.” - Jeff Ayers, RT BookReviews
IN DESPERATION
“A blisteringly paced story that cuts to the bone.” - James Rollins, New York Times bestselling author
THE PANIC ZONE
“The Panic Zone is a headlong rush toward Armageddon. It’s brisk pace and tight focus remind me of early Michael Crichton.” -Dean Koontz #1 New York Times bestselling author
VENGEANCE ROAD
“Vengeance Road is a thriller with no speed limit! It’s a great read!” - Michael Connelly, #1 New York Times bestselling author
SIX SECONDS
“Six Seconds moves like a tornado.” James Patterson, #1 New York Times bestselling author
Rick Mofina
rmofina at gmail dot com
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