Short story time

Every once in a while, I'll get a bit more creative with the blog and post some of my original works. Hope you enjoy this brief introduction into hopefully a larger universe. 

(Note: The text is written from a Puerto Rican perspective, hence some of the words that are put in italics are written in Spanish to better convey the linguistic roots of the work.)

Un combo de pollo agridulce

            I remember the first time my folks bought me arroz chino. I was about 6 years old and we were just getting back from a road trip to San Juan where we were visiting some relatives on my ma’s side. Me and dad well, we were pretty hungry and when they said that we should eat out because of the time, I admit I thought we were getting McDonald’s or Church’s back home in Ponce in time for me to watch Rugrats with my grandma. She used to love that show. But nah, they stopped off in an exit in Caguas that had this little strip mall with fast foods and a Walgreens. Right at the end of it, was a Chinese food place with like five people inside. Granted I was just a punk kid and thought that Chinese food was mostly raw fish or other weird animal parts I imagined in my head. When my dad ordered from the menu, I saw a plate that just called to me and I screamed out “¡Quiero ese!”. My dad saw me all excited and he just couldn’t resist making his little boy happy. When we sat down at the cold table, I saw the food, mountains of fried rice with veggies, egg, and shrimp, a whole bunch of tostones al ajillo, and finally the real showstopper, the revolution my taste buds were waiting for: the sweet and sour chicken, or since for some reason, it sounds better in Spanish to me, el pollo agridulce. Man, I’d be lying if I said this food was just ok, the flavors were just brutal! The way the chicken with the sauce looked glazed over it like nothing I never thought possible, the rice making me wish my mom and mamá (grandma) would cook it this way for every single meal. Gotta say, after that meal, this became my new favorite comfort food, heart-broken, got a new game, failed a test, or out with friends and family. This plate was the go-to whenever anything good or bad went down in my life. Flashforward a couple years and things seem a lot more hectic in my life. My dad got a new job as director of a specialty school for Puerto Rican history, my younger sister became the youngest person in her law firm to be made partner at the age of 21, my mom became the director of the Museum of History in our hometown of Ponce. But there were also huge losses to accompany the accomplishments of my family, lost two of my best friends who happened to be my mamá and my dog. And the cream of the crop is me, the 28 year old eternal student who just can’t catch a break in life.

Now don’t get me wrong, I was rich in friends that meant the world to me and I am living with the person I love the most, but not being able to meet my goals has made me more of a social hermit than I ever thought I was capable of being. But still even after all the B.S. occurring in my life when it came to academics or jobs, one of the constants that made it seem like something better was waiting for me on the other side kept on being el pollo agridulce.

Then came the fateful year that changed the world and reality as we know it, 2020. The fact that this year sounds biblical is an understatement; this was the year shit really hit the fan. Starting off with an earthquake that woke the whole island up and gave me the worst wakeup call on a birthday ever. Followed by the possibility of a third world war, no biggie. The world feels like it’s been at war with itself ever since we became the “dominant lifeforms”. Let’s also not forget to mention, my personal favorite the friggin’ space rock that hurtled over the island and landed a couple miles in the ocean. All of this lead to the big showstopper itself, the virus. Corona was this freaky virus that originated in China and then spread all across the globe. This virus was no flu though, this beast killed people quicker than one would expect from a virus. The World Government declared a world-wide quarantine in order to flatten the curve in the wait of a vaccine of sorts.

However, things got bad in Puerto Rico. The walls or Las Paredes were put into order which were these barriers that limited travel to different regions of the island. My folks and sister all lived in the southern part of the island where, so far, there was relative peace. Me, not so lucky. I lived in the North. Here the walls were the least of my worries. The Blue Hogs, a secret division of the police consisting of humanoid Hogs that were capable of human speech, but due to the mutations, they were limited only to one worded insults and orders, these beasts were roaming all over the streets making sure that those who left their houses were wearing the issued permission tag on their face. The tags were dehumanizing, they marked your social standing and said how much one was worth if beaten down by the Hogs and taken into custody. It became a deadly game of cat and mouse whenever a person decided to do errands or buy food to survive another two weeks.

Luckily there were a select few groups who were off the “hunting list”, these were the Lifers, people who were associated with medicine and all their distinct practices. The Delivery Troupe, consisting of those who delivered food and goods to those in need and those in power, for a price. The price itself, varying on the intricacy and the route the order would take place. Some people only gave money, others a warm bed, and some who were unlucky enough had to give entire body parts to them in order to atone for the route the Delivery Troupe had to go through. Last but not least, there was the anti-wall group founded by former students from local universities, artists, and people with nothing else to lose: Mancha ‘e Platano. This was a group of individuals that worked in the shadows. Taking down corrupt officials, delivery troupers and a few elite were said to even topple a couple Hogs in a fistfight.

Where does this leave me, you ask? I was a rookie in the Mancha, taking on random assignments, be it helping elderly with their delivery trouper dilemmas or traveling to the walls in an effort to look for breaches in the security to visit my folks. My partner and I, let’s call her Curls for protective purposes, we’ve been working on secret operations to breach the wall for over a year now. One day, a couple of Hogs show up to an old apartment complex performing a raid due to suspicions of Mancha members living among the residents. That was my building they raided. After hearing the news of a raid that took more than its fair share of civilian casualties, me and Curls made our way back to find the place in flames with all the residents outside without tags or protective gear to keep from being infected. Many ran away to other settlements, others were taken in due to trying to fight back, but they were met with either death or worse, confinement.

It was that night that Curls and I decided to make our way to the south and stay with our folks. Hopefully, the rumors were true about the Southern region is at peace. We took our belongings and managed to sneak to the breach we uncovered earlier that morning on the wall. One problem though, a hog was standing between us and the breach. Curls picked up a stone and threw it at the beast’s head as we rushed towards it with machetes in hand. We knew going up with no weapons would mean death, so underhanded tactics were the way to go. The hog rocked by the stone wiped the blood off its eyes and tried to tackle me, while Curls threw more stones at his open wound. As he grabbed me, I tried to pierce his face with the blade only for the beast to snap it in half with its massive teeth. Curls decided to jump on the hogs back and stab his face all over with a switchblade, hoping to tire it down. Seeing an opening we decided to stab the beast from both sides of its head. Once the blades touched inside the hogshead, he let go of me and knelt down uttering the words: “Trabajo, solo trabajo”. After composing ourselves, we looked back and felt pity, the hog was just doing its job to keep whatever was left of his family safe. We would carry that weight, no death is inconsequential.

When we crossed the breach, we noticed an old ATV on the side of the road, siphoned some gas from an unsuspecting hog’s car, and made our way to the south. The green expanse of trees that laid before us gave us a sense of hope that we would be well in the South. We decided to stop in Caguas for some food, luckily the old Chinese joint was still in one piece and the cooks were friends of the Central Branch of la Mancha. We ate and I ordered a plate of pollo agridulce only to find out they were out of stock. I figured it was fine to have anything else but something seemed off. Usually, this place had many options ready to go. Turns out some troupers ransacked the place for a late-night order. “Shame really wanted some comfort food about now.”

When we reached the Southern Wall, we were greeted by some Lifers giving assistance to those few who made the ride from the Central Branch with us. Curls went to see her folks and I made my way to Ponce to check up on mine. It was weird walking around without the fear of hogs or troupers taking our resources or beating us for the fun of it. After reaching the gate in front of the old home, something was off, the windows were all boarded up. Climbing up the few steps to the front door, a letter was waiting for me there. It was addressed to me:

“Dear son,

If you’re reading this it means that we abandoned the house due to suspicions of forming a southern branch of Mancha here in Ponce. We know you’re a rookie in their ranks and we’re inspired by you to protect our people. You see… Hogs are coming to the south. The reason we abandoned the house was due to fear of being confined or worse, turned into something else. In your old room are instructions and dates of the hogs arrival in La Guancha, please forgive us for we are not fit to take on the hogs. Your mother and sister are tired and possibly infected, I decided to seek help from an old lifer who may have found a cure to this whole cursed virus. Please forgive the burden we thrust upon you of protecting the South. When you are done there, head west, we’ll be waiting for you there.

                                                                                                Take care, son”

The whole reason I wanted to come back, just vanished, and now a new role was thrust upon me. I puked in fear of the date I saw the hogs would storm the pier… today at sunset. I decided to walk all the way to a local Chinese stop on my way to the pier with Curls and the rest of the Central branch members who followed us. Saw an old man cooking by himself, I ordered the pollo agridulce fully prepared to die on the pier that day. As we made our way to the pier, we all sat down and had our last meal dreaming of what we would do if there were no walls, no virus, no hogs. And as the tears ran down our quiet faces, I saw the tusks of more than thirty hogs emerge from the shore. Putting down the empty plate on the ground, I looked at all the brave men and women next to me, gave Curls a kiss whispering “See you later”, and took up a machete in one hand and a spiked bat in the other. Our cries rang out louder than anything I had heard in my life that day. We ran towards those beasts with everything we had…we ran, we fought, we bled and we barely made it out alive. Only a couple hogs were left standing, confused, and in fear that a bunch of rebels was putting up such a fight. When the last of them died on the shore, I looked around for Curls and saw her lying on the beach crying, not being able to believe she was alive with only a couple scratches. The adrenaline hit me hard because I lost an eye and an arm. I knelt on the sand crying, saying that today was just one small victory and that the road ahead was to be a long and hard one. To this day, the south remembers that day as the Quiet Battle or El murmullo. A symbol of resistance that will echo for generations to come. For now, the south was under my protection. The south would remain peaceful under my branch’s care. As I look at the walls, one thought just races through my mind… Head west…