The Only Human Read online

  The Only Human

  Rick Mofina

  Copyright 2014-2018 Rick Mofina

  ISBN: 978-1-77242-084-5

  Carrick Publishing

  Cover design by James T. Egan, bookflydesign

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  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  About the Author

  Also by Rick Mofina

  Praise for the novels of Rick Mofina

  1

  It hurts when your mom and dad get divorced.

  Even after a year, the pain’s still there.

  That’s what Ty Price was thinking as he stepped into the MTA bus he took from Middle School 104 to his mom’s place in the West Village.

  He got a rare empty seat next to the window.

  Great.

  Settling in, Ty saw a few other kids from school talking and laughing but he kept to himself.

  He was a loner.

  He noticed the old woman across from him was reading the New York Daily News. Above the front-page picture of a New York double-decker sight-seeing bus, the headline screamed: 57 Tourists Vanish!

  Whoa! That’s weird! Wonder how that happened? Maybe they drove into the East River? Well, whatever it was, there’s not much a kid like me can do about it. That’s a job for Spiderman, or some other hero.

  Ty shrugged and fished into his backpack for his PlayStation. But before turning it on, he resumed thinking about his life.

  During the school week he lived with his mom in Lower Manhattan and most weekends he lived with his dad up in Hamilton Heights. It had been a year since his parents divorced yet he sensed that his mom still loved his dad. Not because of the routine line, “I will always love your father/mother,” divorcing parents feed their kids, but because he recently found that she was using his father’s picture as a bookmark. She read books old style. Anyway, Ty figured that the bookmark proved she still loved his dad.

  And that had to be a good thing.

  Then there was last month when Ty saw his dad looking at pictures of his mom on his computer, pictures of her when she was happy at their wedding and later laughing at the beach. Ty’s mom had a nice smile but these days she didn’t smile the way she did in those pictures.

  The bus came to the Park Avenue stop and Ty studied the new passengers. That creepy old guy usually got on around here. Ty was relieved when he didn’t see him.

  As the bus rolled on, he continued thinking about how his parents didn’t totally hate each other like the parents of some of his friends. Sometimes he believed that his mom and dad would miraculously declare that splitting up was all a big mistake. That they would be all moving back together into their real home in Yorkville, that he’d be getting his old room back, seeing his old friends more, going back to his old school, getting his old life back.

  Forget it.

  Divorce definitely messes you up with all that court business, and he had to see a shrink for a while. Doctor Marsha Green, a woman with fuzzy hair who’d always used his official name. “Your parents’ divorce was not your fault, Tyler,” she’d said many times.

  Doctor Green had a big aquarium in her office and he liked watching the fish glide in the water. It was like they were flying. They were so peaceful. The fish had helped Ty keep calm in the early days when he’d lost the only home he’d known. His whole life had been turned upside down by having to move across Manhattan, to being the dreaded new kid in school, and to pinball from his mom’s home in Greenwich Village to his dad’s apartment on 151st Street, and having two of everything: two rooms in two homes, two sets of clothes, two addresses, two neighborhoods and too much stress.

  At times it got so hard trying to figure where he belonged.

  Ty just felt alone.

  Maybe that was his fate: to be a loner, keep to himself, do his homework and get lost in his PlayStation where he was an imaginary hero and could kill off everything evil in the world.

  If he could kill divorce, he would.

  There were days when Ty hoped his parents would get back together but that was just a stupid kid dream and he should just let it go. Yeah, the pain was still there, but not as much.

  Divorce is part of life. Just grow up, stop whining and deal with it like a zillion other kids, he told himself as the city blocks rolled by and the bus approached the next stop, Union Square Park.

  Oh no, Ty groaned as new riders got on. There’s the creepy guy.

  One of the new riders was an old man dressed in a fraying jacket with patches on the elbows, and baggy pants. He had a crumpled hat and his white hair was flying out from under it. He wore glasses and had deep lines in his face that ran under a scraggily short white and gray beard. A worn leather satchel was strapped over his shoulder and he was holding it under one arm with his hand, as if it contained something important, but more likely because it was going to fall apart.

  That’s him all right.

  The old dude had been riding this bus for about a week, getting on the same one Ty took after school. Ty didn’t know him but each trip the man would sit in Ty’s vicinity and stare at him. Like, really seriously stare at him, like he’d never seen an ordinary kid in his life.

  What a freak.

  You see a lot of weirdoes and creeps on the bus in New York City and this human dinosaur was definitely one of them.

  Ty would just ignore him.

  As the old man made his way down the aisle of the crowded bus, Ty caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were intense, like he had some sort of gravely serious issue going on in his head.

  Whatever.

  Ty looked back down quickly at his PlayStation while nudging his backpack further out on the empty seat beside him, to send a message: Keep walking old man, there’s room at the back.

  The man stopped at Ty’s seat.

  Before Ty could do anything, he’d picked up Ty’s backpack, handed it to him then sat down beside him.

  This was a first.

  Ty was uncomfortable. The old man sat so close their legs were touching and he smelled like the basement of that ancient used bookstore in SoHo where Ty’s mom shopped.

  Okay, I don’t know if you’re a freak, a crackhead, or a perv, but if you touch me, you die, Ty thought, adjusting his backpack and his position in his seat.

  The man shot a quick glance back over his shoulder, then to the front, taking inventory of the passengers on the bus, before leaning toward Ty.

  “Listen carefully,” his low, deep voice was filled with concern. “They’re everywhere, watching me; we don’t have much time which leaves me no choice. We have to do this here and now. This is your destiny, Tyler Price.”

  2

  Ty’s breathing quickened.

  How does this strange old man know my name?

  Ty’s mind raced. He had a bad feeling about this guy. Whatever was going on, Ty didn’t like it.

  Looking around anxiously he found the bus driver’s gaze in the rear view mirror. The driver was watching them, giving Ty some assurance that if the old guy tried anything Ty could yell for help.

  Ty concentrated on his PlayStation until his arm was prodded. The man was trying to give him his bag. “Take this.” He kept his voice low. “I don’t have time to explain. Everything you need is in there.”

  Ty elbowed the bag back at the old man.

  “No thanks.”

  “Listen to me! You don’t know what’s at stake!”

  Ty focused on his
game until a big wrinkled hand covered it.

  “Hey!”

  “There’s no time left, Tyler. They’re everywhere, watching me.”

  “Leave me alone.” Ty pulled his game back and glanced to the front, noticing that the driver, who’d been keeping his eyes on them, had reached for his radio’s microphone and said something into it.

  Other than the bus driver no one was paying attention to them, which was typical on the bus, or subway, where people saw crackpots every day.

  “Tyler,” the old man said, “the awakening has begun and you’ve been chosen to stop them! It’s been foretold!”

  The awakening? Foretold? Only whackos talked like that.

  Ty prepared to move to another seat but the guy wouldn’t budge.

  “I want to get out,” Ty said.

  “You must listen to me. It’s a matter of life and death.”

  Ty looked directly at the man. His eyes were webbed with red lines, from the fear that was straining them. He looked rough, like he hadn’t slept and he was sweating. Maybe he was on some sort of medication. But the tone and depth of his voice made him sound half-way intelligent.

  How does this nut know my name?

  Maybe he was connected to Ty’s school, or his building, or knew his parents or something? Ty was afraid to ask because he didn’t want to get drawn into crazy world. He needed to get off at the next stop.

  “I thought I’d have more time to tell you everything Tyler, but things have accelerated. They’ve found me but they don’t know that I’ve found you. They’ll do anything to prevent me from getting this to you and to stop you!”

  Again he nudged him with the satchel.

  “Stop,” Ty said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You will find the answers in here.” The man patted the satchel and held it for Ty to take. “You will find the truth in here.”

  Ty refused the bag.

  What if it was a bomb, or poison, or something?

  Suddenly a police car with its lights flashing cut in front of the bus which was slowing for the 6th Avenue stop. As the car braked ahead of the bus, tired passengers stood at the exit to get off, but the doors remained closed.

  “Door!” One woman with bulging shopping bags, called to the driver.

  Nothing happened.

  “Come on man!” a tall guy behind her shouted. “Open the door!”

  Someone started ringing the bell, while at the front, two police officers boarded. The public address speaker crackled as the driver spoke.

  “Everyone please remain seated, just a short delay.”

  Grumbling rippled through the bus as the driver nodded to the cops, indicating Ty’s seat. The old man’s eyes narrowed.

  “They’re coming for me! Take my bag and run Tyler! Whatever happens, whatever anyone says, do not let them take it from you! Only share the contents with those who can truly help you – the people you’ll need to seek out. Trust your heart to identify them as friends, or enemies. You need everything inside for what you have to do!”

  As the officers moved toward them, the old man seized the red metal handle of the window’s emergency exit and pulled down.

  “Freeze, you’re under arrest!” One of the cops yelled.

  But the old man pushed the window out at the bottom. In a flash he climbed over Ty, out the window and down the side of the bus, escaping to the street. The first officer shoved Ty aside and climbed out the window after the man, while the other officer spoke on his radio then shouted for the bus driver to open the bus doors. The cop squeezed by passengers and rushed to the street to help his partner.

  Ty watched the old man zigzag through traffic with the cops close behind him. Horns blared and tires screeched. Then Ty heard a sickening thud as a cab struck the old man, flinging him like a rag doll some thirty feet before he smashed to the road.

  The man landed on his back and was not moving.

  Ty grabbed his backpack and the old man’s satchel, got off the bus and rushed to the accident where some of the bus passengers had joined the gathering crowd. The cab driver had gotten out, holding his head in his hands, apologizing, almost crying.

  “He ran right into me! You saw it, he ran right into me!”

  The officers were stopping traffic and waving people away.

  “Everybody back off! Nothing to see here!” said one of the cops who’d radioed for an ambulance as the bus driver emerged and went to the officers. The three of them were standing over the old man.

  Ty inched closer and through the forest of legs saw the old guy was alive but in pain.

  “Officer,” the bus driver pointed to Ty. “I saw that boy, that boy right there, steal this man’s bag on the bus, he’s still got it, see!”

  “That’s a lie!” someone in the crowd shouted back. “I saw the man give it to him!” Ty turned to see Ella Shaw, a girl from his school that he sort of knew. She had glasses, long brown hair and a blue shirt. “I was sitting on the bus right behind them. The man wanted him to have it.”

  The scream of approaching sirens grew louder. One of the cops approached Ty with his hand out.

  “Better give me that bag, son.”

  “Don’t do it, Ty,” Ella said.

  Ty put his hand over the bag and began backing away.

  Then the old man weakly raised his head. His glasses were broken and twisted on his face which was laced with blood. He searched the crowd, then, as if taking his dying breath, he yelled.

  “Don’t give them the bag! Take it and run Tyler!”

  Ty suddenly felt Ella yanking his arm.

  “Let’s go, now, Ty!”

  “Don’t you move!” the cop said.

  The old man let his head sink back to the pavement then, called to the sky: “Run Tyler, run!”

  Ty Price tightened his hold on the bag and ran.

  3

  Ty Price and Ella Shaw ran along 14th Street.

  “Don’t look back,” Ty said.

  One of the cops was chasing them but Ty and Ella were widening the gap as they weaved their way into the 14th Street PATH station at Sixth Avenue.

  They hurried down amid the dank air, the crowds, and rumble of the trains to the platform while watching for police. Catching his breath, Ty dropped his backpack on the floor, shoved the old man’s bag into it then yanked out his red jacket and ball cap.

  “I don’t know what’s happening, this is crazy!” Ty said.

  “I know,” Ella said.

  “We’ve got to change how we look. Do you have other clothes in your backpack?”

  “This,” Ella tugged on a yellow hoodie. Then she grabbed an elastic band. Holding it between her teeth, she quickly collected her brown hair, which touched her shoulders, and tied it into a pony tail, revealing more of her face. In that instant, Ty thought she was kinda hot, but had no time to dwell on that.

  “Let’s go back up, make them think we went to New Jersey,” he said.

  Before they started up, Ty froze. A transit cop stood at the top, by the entrance, eyeing the streams of commuters.

  Ty moved back along the wall of the platform.

  “Look!” Ella said.

  Two more transit cops were at the far end of the platform searching the crowd, talking into their shoulder microphones as a southbound train thundered into the station.

  Its doors opened.

  “What do we do?” Ella asked.

  He looked up at the exit and the flood of people, then at those boarding the arriving train.

  “Come on!”

  They stepped into the car.

  It was jammed with riders, leaving no place to sit. They held onto the post, dropped their backpacks to the floor, covering them with their legs so they were hard to see.

  “So are we really going to New Jersey, now?” Ella asked, as the train pulled away, jostling them against other people.

  “I’m not sure,” Ty looked around their car for police as his heart hammered. “This is insane. I was just minding
my own business on the bus. I can’t believe this happened!”

  “It happened, and I’m your witness.”

  He looked at her, really looked at her.

  Ella Shaw wasn’t in any of his classes but he’d heard she was a brain; one of those super-smart, nerdy types. He had thought she might be cute but couldn’t make a ruling because she’d always worn her hair around her face. That is until now. Now he could confirm it, she was pretty.

  “Why did you back me up?” he asked.

  “I heard what the man was telling you.”

  “Didn’t he sound like a psycho to you?”

  “More eccentric, really, but there was something about him.”

  “Yes, he was crazy.”

  “No, in some way I believed he knew what he was talking about, as wild as it sounded, because something seriously weird is going on in this city.” Ella nodded toward a man reading a newspaper.

  Again, the front page was about the missing tour bus.

  “Maybe, but I don’t know what it’s got to do with me,” Ty shook his head. “I mean, this is all totally insane. I’m just an ordinary kid and some old nutcase is talking about my destiny, about the awakening, whatever that is. I got math homework and I got police chasing me. Maybe I should just stop all this and give the bag to them.”

  “No, think about it. That man wanted you to have his bag. He risked his life to give it to you. You need to find out what it all means. He said you’d find the answers inside. He may have died back there for you. Don’t you think you owe it to him to check it out?”

  Ella made sense, Ty thought, as the train stopped at the 9th Street PATH station.

  The doors opened and two cops entered their car.

  Ty and Ella lowered their heads and slowly turned away from them, watching the officers’ reflections in the window as their police radios bleated static bits of information.

  “Male, white, approximately thirteen years of age … wearing green shirt … female white … blue shirt …”

  As the train rumbled along, the officers moved passed them and through the car. Then they went through the connecting door to the next crowded car behind them.