Azul

Glowing cerulean pools filtered in between the crevices of the Aztec ruins, streaming and filling in the lines of the encircled insignia. The boy had pressed the inch wide rectangular tablet in the center of the pattern that looked like an upside-down horseshoe. He had begun the Astillas. Withdrawing the tablet did no good, it was stuck, and the sound of rushing water drowned out the silence that previously filled the temple. The outside jungle life scuttled and chirped in glee, though the boy couldn’t hear them. He stood in the middle of the symbol, pillars splashed from the floor, sending the boy reeling. The torch he brought was nearly extinguished. Dim flickers which guided him there were now obsolete in comparison to the illumination of the chamber, and even more so when the ceiling rumbled open revealing the full moon lying above. The boy couldn’t keep up with it, his head swiveled in so many directions. The temple had seemingly come alive. The prophecy was soon to unfold. Yes, that was why he came, to fulfill the prophecy passed down generation after generation. Summoning all of his remaining bravery, the boy regained his footing. There was no choice now, he had to see the Astillas through, no matter how scary it may be.

Men with guns arrived last month, trampling the chayote fields and vineyards, pointing at the boy’s neighbors as they demanded fish, drink, and shelter. The only people that remained in the village were elders and children; they did not have the strength to refuse them. They hadn’t done anything wrong. The boy knew this. One night, he snuck under the tunnels dug back during the harvest, to spy on the intruders. Mud splattered onto his body from the day's rainfall, darkening his skin. Invisible, he crawled up to the sharp wire outside their camp, the boy stuck out his ear to listen to the men laughing. He learned their names, Los Osos, and their reasoning for coming to the village: to hide. These were not men of stature, nor were they from the government, they were rebels, cowards, hiding from the war up north. 

The boy returned home from recon to a ripe scolding from his grandmother. She was enraged at his foolishness, dabbing his cheeks violently with a cloth to remove the dirt. The boy cried how it wasn’t fair that Los Osos had stolen crops and even hurt friends of his, they were cowards and they deserved nothing! Grandmother pushed her index finger against his lips, shushing his harsh words. She glanced through the sunroof to the night sky. She reminded him of the prophecy, and of Ahuizotl, a cold-blooded canine that feasted on the negative beliefs of humans, eating the pessimists' bodies' whole. The Astillas, or “The Awakening,” the Aztecs believed to be the end of mankind, as Ahuizotl devoured all. The grandmother peered into the boy’s blue eyes, seeing her son’s tenacity crackle like lightning. The boy brushed aside the wrinkled hand, rubbing the smooth side of the tablet necklace his father had given him before deploying to the war. He promised it would bring the boy immense luck and strength, but so far it brought nothing but death for his mother, pain for his grandmother, and now, Los Osos. 

He stormed to bed. Lying awake in rage, the boy held his father’s pendant in front of his face. They would play baseball, go fishing, and eat so many of grandmother’s homemade taquitos together. The war had taken all of that away. When he gave the boy his tablet on departure, he tousled the boy’s black hair and reminded him that the etched symbol was a mark meant only to be worn by the moon’s bravest warriors. He smiled wide, saying that the boy would have to be the bravest now too. With the full moon now glowing above the boy, the light leaked through the sunroof, pouring onto his faint expression. He gazed at the stone, wondering what his father meant by “bravest.”

The morning sun god, Quetzalcoatl, wrapped its serpent body around the sphere, lifting the star into the sky. Los Osos had collected a pile of mangoes, chayotes, and mamey sapote, sweet citrus fruit with poisonous seeds. Just as grandmother went to make her offering, she discovered that the boy had disappeared, and begged Los Osos to go and look for him. They laughed and joked that perhaps the boy had found a new life far away from this dump and a hag like her. One man stepped in front of the rest, wearing an officer’s uniform. He introduced himself as Ocelot and held his hand out to accept the old woman’s donation. She withdrew the taquitos from his reach, demanding that a search party be formed for her grandson in exchange. Ocelot’s posture changed, he sulked a bit and his lanky limbs swayed. He crept a thin smile and told the woman that her grandson was probably dead. She spat in his face. Enraged, Ocelot ordered the other intruders to drag her off into their encampment’s prison where the other resistors were held. They obliged as she cried in agony at the thought of losing the boy. 

On the other side of the village, the boy had traversed the south river by raft. The calm current separated the people from the dangers of the vast jungle. No child was allowed to venture this far, but last night reminded the boy of the time his father warned him not to play close to the overgrowth. The prophecy, his father said, was not only real, but something to be very fearful of. Ahuizotl was indiscriminate in its victims and went after anyone with even the smallest amount of negativity plaguing their minds. Only the most clear-headed people survived its attacks. The boy clutched the tablet as he dashed under branches and hopped over roots. If what grandmother said was true, the Astillas would awaken Ahiuzotl, and the beast would have to go after Los Osos, men full of fear of battle and abuse on their minds. Yes, they’d tuck their tails just at the sight of the creature, driving them all out, the boy was sure of it.

After the boy’s father told him not to venture there years ago, he immediately took to the jungle in search of the Aztec temple. Back then, he had found it lying down by the river’s basin, it was covered in so much moss the building’s limestone exterior appeared green. Segments were layered on top of each other like the tres leches cakes that grandmother loved to make. But the staple mark of the temple was a stone statue of a giant four-legged animal, in a stance that made it look like it was roaring. The boy felt a shiver go down his spine as he approached all these years later. Time had not been kind to the temple, there were corners crumbled, holes ripped through the ceiling, and debris from what carried down the river. Drawing a breath, the boy sparked a match, lighting a torch. Fear was not an option, the boy thought, bravery is all he could allow conquering his cognition.

As the boy stood up, the ground shook, shaking off loose fragments of the ruins to shatter on the floor. The outline of the moon symbol was now full of water and radiated a blinding blue flare. The boy didn’t dare doubt his actions, he held his palm up to shield his eyes. Suddenly, a grumble mixed in with the vibrations of the ground. The pitch was so low that the boy hadn’t noticed it, but it grew and howled as the light enveloped the moon symbol. What the Aztecs predicted to be the end of the world, utter annihilation, seemed to be coming to fruition. 

But just when the boy thought that the light rescinded, and the shakes quelled. The boy lowered his hand from his face. In the center of the moon, was a naked young girl sleeping in a fetal position. He dropped his jaw in shock. She stirred awake, and stretched her arms, and yawned. The two youths then locked eyes, but the boy darted his sight to the floor in embarrassment. Tilting her head in bewilderment, the girl stepped up and approached the boy who was now sweating profusely. She spoke a language that the boy had never heard before, he opened his eyes to find she was clothed in a brown tunic. Noticing the boy’s confusion, the girl tapped his head with her fingers. Suddenly, she could speak Spanish and asked the boy what he was doing here. Taken aback, he hesitated and responded that he came to perform the Astillas and awaken the ancient deity slumbering here. The girl cocked her head to the side. The boy sighed walking past her, returning to the tablet that was still lodged in the center. 

Perhaps he made a mistake? The Aztecs didn’t leave behind a guidebook on how to summon the monster, all they inscribed was that a brave soul was required to tame the beast. The boy gritted his teeth. So was all of this a waste of time? How could he possibly look his father in the eye if he returned only to find his home ravaged? The boy sniffed and wiped away hot tears. Suddenly, blue light blasted from behind, sending him to his knees. He turned around only to face fangs dripping with saliva, steaming breath, and black eyes deep with hatred.

The boy crawled backward, and the beast followed, its eyes locked on his expression. It had Pacific blue scales instead of fur and wore gold jewelry around its ears and scruff of its neck. Its tail circled around the boy’s trembling body, the tip of which hosted a clawed four-fingered hand, which now grasped around the boy’s throat. There was no escape. The boy was beyond terrified. Just as the beast unhinged its jaw to bite down on the boy, he saw everything, his loving grandmother, his anger at Los Osos, and his father smiling before walking out the door. The boy punched the air with his fist, letting out a berserk cry. The beast recoiled in surprise. Though the boy struggled to pronounce Ahuizotl’s name, he did the best he could, sucking in a deep breath and ordered that Azul heel. Silence once again returned. 

Azul’s vicious demeanor morphed into a complacent one, it dropped its hind legs into a sitting position. The boy’s clear resolve had dismissed the doubt that had earlier existed in his thoughts. Now Azul looked much like any ordinary dog, panting from the intense heat and humidity. Its scales shimmered and grew in brightness, and once it dimmed out again, the girl was all that remained. The boy could not believe his eyes, and soon his cheeks turned fluorescent cinnabar. He realized he had just told a girl to “heel,” the boy pressed his hands to his face. His mother would’ve been ashamed of him. 

Azul awoke, yawning and stretching as she did before. Upon a second look, Azul had vertical lines that ran from under her eyelids down her face, making her look as though she was crying. The boy had never seen someone so young with tattoos before. He held out his hand to her and asked if she was the deity he was looking for. Azul blinked at the question and responded she didn’t know what he was talking about. More rocks fell from the sky, the temple had sustained too much damage during the Astillas, and was falling apart. The boy grabbed Azul’s hand and rushed back out into the wilderness. 

Ocelot rubbed the whiskers on his chin, contemplating what to do with the villagers who resisted Los Osos’ control. Perhaps a public hanging? No, that would get too much attention, the government would notice and send reinforcements. This had to be handled quietly. Ocelot eyed the grandmother, sitting in the camp’s clearing chained with the others. He smiled, adjusting the badges on the uniform he’d stolen off the corpse of a dead officer. Perhaps their respect for their elders will outweigh their selfish desires. 

Stepping out of his office, he descended the steps loading his Beretta pistol. The grandmother watched him with burning eyes, even when his shadow shrouded her. He commanded for her to stand. The other villagers, mostly adolescents begged for her to obey. She refused and reclined back instead. Ocelot scowled briefly but shook off his anger with a laugh at the foolishness of it all. He held the pistol to her head, gloating to the others that this is what happens when people defy Los Osos. The others screamed for Ocelot to spare her, but the fake officer just cackled and spit on the old woman, just as she had done to him. Los Osos were here to stay, and that he, the great and unparalleled Ocelot, would be the king of this-

A ripe sapote hit Ocelot straight in the eyeballs, the citrus stung him severely and he cried in anguish. That was all the boy needed him to do, Azul’s body emitted and shined into her beastly form. The guards dropped their guns in fear, Azul licked her chops, hungry for their despair. She pounced on the first two, knocking them out under her weight. A third guard appeared from behind, and swung at Azul with a knife, she dodged and batted him in the back of the skull with her tail clenched into a fist. The boy ran to confront Ocelot, who was still reeling from the sapote juice. The grandmother tripped the blinded Oso, and the boy came down hard with the brunt of a stick on the side of his head. Ocelot doubled over, dropping the Beretta. Azul growled at the other Osos, they didn’t hesitate and fled for their lives. 

The mythical creature was tempted to chase them but smelt even greater fear in volume behind her. She twisted around to see the boy helping his grandmother up, and behind them, Ocelot regaining his balance. As the elder embraced her grandson, Ocelot rolled and snatched his pistol off the ground, firing off a shot at the pair. Azul leaped over them like a hurdle, angrily swatting the bullet with her tail. Ocelot screamed as he emptied the remaining chamber at the beast, but all of the ammunition ricocheted off her steel scales. Azul dove closer, grabbing his torso with the claw attached to her tail, lifting him high as she snarled. The grandmother was wide-eyed at the sight of Ahuizotl. 

Ocelot flailed his legs, as Azul pulled him closer to her mouth. The boy shouted an order for Azul to drop him. Though he despised and was determined to chase out Los Osos, he was certain that nobody needed to die. Azul obeyed, letting the man crash to the ground unconscious. But she didn’t change forms, instead, she bent low and studied the grandmother’s expression. The boy noticed too late. Azul jumped high for the captives, the boy left his grandmother’s side to throw up his fist as he did in the temple. It would take even more confidence to break Azul’s trance, the amount of fear from the villagers was too much for her to resist. The boy tried to remember again, keeping his mind positive with childhood memories. She slashed his protruding arm, cutting him. The grandmother cried for him to run. It wasn’t enough, the creature crept slowly towards them. But the boy was determined, to save the village, and to preserve the home that his father had created for him. Azul jumped again. He held up his other arm, putting all of his thoughts and focus into that one belief. The children's faces were lit by the boy’s hope, their countenances mixed with the rays of noon’s blazing sun.