Yaomachtia Man

By William Bailey-Gonzalez

Quetzalcoatl "Quetz" Juarez (simply referred to as Quetz in the story) is a 17 year old teen living in modern day Mexico City. He is of American/Mexican/Nahua descent and is looking for his own past through his endless search of the Aztec Mixed Martial Art known as Yaomachtia. Quetz grows as a person throughout the story, as he makes mistakes, corrects them and then learns from each experience.

Set in modern day Mexico City, Quetz embarks on his journey and searches for his dreams with the support of his Uncle Tlaloc, family, and teen friends. He is looking for Yaomachtia, a magic sword and a sacred corn--- and in the book, all three concepts are introduced.

Yaomachtia Man is filled with Action, Adventure, teen Romance, Aztec/Mayan cosmology, UFO's and Martial Arts.

Yaomachtia Man starts and ends with the same dream of a UFO in 16th Century Teotihuacan. In the middle of the book, the dream is fully revealed and this is what ultimately motivates Quetz in the story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Bailey-Gonzalez
• Release date: Jan 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370728886

Book preview

William Bailey-Gonzalez

∆

∆ ∆ ∆

∆ ∆ ∆

∆ ∆ ∆ ∆

YAOMACHTIA

MAN

COPYRIGHT© 2016 All rights reserved, by YAO Man Publishing

ISBN 9781943579945

No part of this work covered by the copyright hereon may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means - graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or information storage and retrieval systems without the written permission of the publisher.

Derivative Work from the novel, SKETCHING YAOMACHTIA MAN; Copyright © 2015

First Edition

YAO Man Publishing, Las Vegas, Nevada

Editor: Dana DeGidio

Cover Art: G Marcus Blackwell

Book is dedicated to

Frederick Barak

and

Celia Gonzalez de Bailey

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

We would like to take this opportunity to thank Grandmaster Manuel Lozano, an accomplished martial artist from South Texas, who had the vision to look into the history of his own past in Mexico and for opening the first dojo dedicated to Yaomachtia in Brownsville, Texas.

Next, we would like to thank Frederick Barak, Esq., for believing enough in Yaomachtia to underwrite the first Yaomachtia Productions. When it really came down to it, a last minute decision was made whether to go to Zitlala, Guerrero, Mexico to film the Jaguar Fights, and Mr. Barak stepped up to the plate with his checkbook.

Mr. John Noorda is the next person we want to thank for suggesting that we create a Yaomachtia Man. Mr. Noorda made a number of suggestions for the book and his ideas have made a significant difference in the story.

Last but not least, we want to thank Mr. Jean Renard. He was the glue to the project, always being a sounding board, advisor, and more important, friend to the project. Mr. Renard made it real clear to us to first write this novel.

There is a long list of people who have contributed along the way. We would like to extend a special thank you to the following:

Sammy Agent; Carlos Amezcua; María Anzures Rionda; Bruce Austin; Celia Gonzalez de Bailey; Desree Qi Bailey; Victor Bailey; Francisco Adauto Baños Diaz; John Behrens; Michael Macario Brewer;; Isabelle Brooks; Stan Brooks; Alberto Calvo; Debs Carter; Pilar Castaneda; Dian Chen; I.o. Eazybôy Danielz; Jim Earp; Cristian Echeverria; Blanca Fradera; Trisha Franz; Jasmine Fu; Kensho Furuya; Michelle Garcia; Gustavo Gonzalez; Laura Gonzalez; Lorena Gonzalez; Eddie Gongora; Julio Cesar Gutiérrez de Paz; Louis Charles Hook, Jr.; Hisaki Horinishi; Rinko Jeffers; John Joiner; Kaz Kawamoto; Manuel Kitay; Jeffrey N. Kline; Rickey Knuckles; Carl Kravetz; Thomas Lafleur; Jia Hao Li; Qun Li; Jesus Chuy Lozano; Xu Feng Lu; Denise Lugo; Michael Palakovich; Jens Reinhardt; David Thomas Roberts; Claudia Rodriguez; Juanita Janie Rodriguez; Hiroaki Saiki; Marlene de Saenz; Donna Sebastian; Miguel Ani Stewart; Luis Tijerina; Therese Trujillo; Benny The Jet Urquidez; Sarah Urquidez; Juan Carlos Vasquez; Vata; Steve Walker; Emmett Wells; Michael Wilks and Don The Dragon Wilson.

YAOMACHTIA

MAN

CHAPTER

1

Quetzalcoatl Juarez was in his bed sleeping when he started to shake and squirm.

Chato, the family dog, used his giant paw to scratch the bedroom door open. He jumped onto the teen’s bed and began licking his master’s face. Quetzalcoatl woke up covered in sweat and drool. He hugged his mutt, thankful for Chato who rescued him from his nightmare.

There were many dreams that flooded the boy’s mind of late, but never one so real or with so much detail that it scared him this much. Maybe the nightmare had happened because today was his fifteenth birthday. Perhaps it was Quetzalcoatl’s passion for Sci-fi and the history of the Aztecs that drove his bizarre dream. This same passion had often caused him to question his own blonde hair and skin which was naturally fairer than that of the rest of his family; why not cause him to experience such a terrifying dream as the one he had just been aroused from.

Quetzalcoatl knew that he was grasping at straws, but right now the only thing worse than his nightmare was a lack of explanation for it. Some of the minor details of his nightmare were already fading; it was the most grotesque details that were what still lingered, and the feelings that those details left him with that were the most disturbing.

What he did remember of the dream very clearly was that there was a lot of blood. It was flowing like a thing alive, casting almost a dark red tint upon the entire memory. He remembered that, and the fact that, during the dream he was speaking in his native tongue, Nahuatl. Although Spanish was spoken in most homes in Mexico, Nahuatl was spoken in his home as the primary language. This, in turn, made it easier for Quetzalcoatl to understand his dream although the language itself seemed like it belonged in another period of time. That part was somewhat confusing to him.

The Nahua people of today are made up of citizens from different groups of indigenous cultures found throughout Mexico. They still speak Nahuatl, and they are commonly referred to as being Aztecs - although the race is not the same as it was during the 1500's. Today’s Aztec tries to hold onto aspects of the culture and customs of the past – such as speaking Nahuatl - but the indigenous race is no longer pure and through the years, so much of their past has been lost. It tries to preserve its culture through the rapidly changing generations, but the race as a whole has no real homeland to speak of.

Grateful to be awake and away from the strangeness of the dream, Quetzalcoatl rolled out of bed and gathered up his clothes. He silently crept out of the bedroom, careful not to wake anyone else. After getting dressed, Quetzalcoatl ventured into the kitchen for breakfast. Despite the early hour, he was hungry and figured that he would grab a quick bite to eat while the rest of his family slept.

Quetzalcoatl belonged to a large family which consisted of his parents, Amoxtli and Nelli Juarez, his three brothers, and his four sisters aged 12, 14, 15 and 18. Ichtaca, the youngest of the four girls, adored her brother Quetzalcoatl. As a small child she would shadow him, never leaving his side. It was Ichtaca who first began to call her brother Quetz. She had decided that Quetzalcoatl was just too long, and too hard for her to pronounce. Nelli had tried to correct Ichtaca at first; but, Quetz did not seem to object, and Ichtaca had been so cute in her persistence, that the name stuck and Quetz became his apodo.

Amoxtli Juarez worked as a seasonal migrant worker on a farm near Fresno, California. He was a strong man, a good man, who worked hard to provide for his family with never a complaint. On this day, he was in the United States. Quetz did not expect his father to come home for at least another couple of months.

Nelli Juarez stayed home with the family in Mexico City. She ran her family with patience and love. She ran their limited finances with relentless, calculated precision. Nelli could handle the worst of times with grace. On the leaner days she always managed to make eating nopales or cactus, tortillas and frijoles seem like a feast.

The Juarez family lived in an older apartment building, in a barrio close to the delegación (borough) of Coyoacán. Their apartment was a tiny one with only two bedrooms. The boys slept in one bedroom and the girls, with their mother, slept in the other bedroom. Public transportation was plentiful and available twenty-four hours a day. Since the family owned no car, they either took buses, the subway or walked to get around the city.

Unwilling to wake his family by making breakfast in the kitchen, Quetz took Chato for his morning walk early that day.

Chato was a beautiful blue brindle pitbull. The dog had been given to Quetz and his family as a gift, after Quetz had spent the past summer working with his Uncle Tlaloc at the hacienda of Tlaloc’s patrón. Quetz felt pride in owning such a beautiful dog, and he took very good care of him. Chato demanded a lot of attention and a lot of exercise. These morning walks were a regular way for both mutt and master to stay in shape. Like many mornings, their walk took them by the main plaza in Coyoacán.

They entered the Dos Coyotes Café and sat in the patio. It was his birthday and he ordered his favorite breakfast: a torta, pan dulce and a steamy hot cup of café ole. He also ordered a bowl of water for Chato. The dream which had disturbed him so much was fading now, but something in the back of his mind was still bothering him. Even through breakfast, he could not shake the feeling that he had missed something.

Quetz quickly finished his breakfast and on the way out the door, he waved to the owner.

A block away at the main plaza, Quetz tossed small chunks of pan dulce at Chato while quietly looking at the Dos Coyotes Fountain. By this time, he had willed himself to stop thinking about the dream altogether.

Before he left the plaza, he studied the insects on the cacti. He checked the soil and it looked clean. He did not notice any dead leaves or dangerous bugs on the plant. He smiled when he finished his analysis, and turned towards home.

When Quetz returned to the Juarez apartment, it seemed empty. It was still fairly early for a Sunday morning; usually in a family as large as his, the problem was trying to find quiet amongst the chaos that nine people can create. The still silence that engulfed him now seemed unreal. Quetz whistled to alert anyone who might be home that he was back in the apartment and going to his room. Nobody answered. On the way back he stopped at the picture of his father, Amoxtli Juarez. He ran his middle finger over the picture frame. Quetz thought about his dad and wished that he were there, especially because it was his fifteenth birthday; but, his dad was far away, working hard so he could keep sending home money.

Quetz made it back to his room and fell onto his bed. Chato walked in a circle before curling up by the boy’s arm hanging off of the top of the bed. Although the day just started, the only thing on Quetz’s mind was being home for supper. He was more concerned with the attention he was hoping for that evening than the tedious details the rest of the day would bring. He was looking forward to seeing his birthday cake and then blowing out the candles. It did not seem fair to Quetz that the world did not stop, or even pause, for such a big day as his fifteenth birthday. He knew that he had several errands to run and he knew that he had to leave soon if he wanted to make it home in time for the evening festivities; but right now, all he wanted to do was celebrate the day in his own way.

Quetz closed his eyes and allowed himself to be swept away into thoughts of Amoxtli and him spending the afternoon together on a lazy Sunday afternoon. It was a short nap, but it was the most peaceful sleep that Quetz had enjoyed in quite some time.

Quetz had scrambled to get all of his errands done ahead of schedule. He returned home later in the afternoon, well before supper, and was pleased with the time he had made. He was in such a good mood that he even smiled and waved at Reina as she peeked out the window at him. Reina was the neighbor who lived across the hall from the Juarez family. She was a scrawny woman with unkempt hair that had a way of emphasizing her crazed eyes better than any makeup could have. Quetz, his family, and all that met her believed that Reina was a bruja.

The story around the neighborhood went as far back as Reina’s grandmother. It was said that her grandmother was a very pretty teenager, though to cast eyes upon Reina, one would not have guessed that at all. She lived a fairly sheltered life in Mexico with her family. It was right after the Mexican Constitution was enacted in 1917 that something terrible happened to Reina’s grandmother. During the years of the national revolution, 1910-1920, it was a very dangerous period of time in Mexico. It was estimated that over 1.5 million people died in Mexico, and another 200,000 people fled the country. But as for Reina’s grandmother - her whole life just fell apart.

As a young girl, Reina’s grandmother was told to always keep herself unkempt so as not to attract unwanted attention, and to avoid soldiers at all costs. Unfortunately, one day Reina’s abuela made herself up in grand fashion to attend a friend’s Quinceañera (15 year old birthday party). Her abuela had a crush on a young man who she knew would be attending, and she wanted him to see her all decked out.

The day had started early with a mass at the local church. It was followed by the traditional celebration that went on for hours. Her abuela did not know it, but a soldier had had his eye on her during the party and waited to follow her on her way home. He had several other soldiers with him. Ultimately, the soldiers attacked the party that she was walking with and separated her from them. Reina’s abuela was raped by the man. She became pregnant. Saving themselves the shame of it all, her immediate family disowned her - saying she looked for trouble and got what she deserved. Reina’s abuela moved out and stayed with an aunt and uncle until Reina’s mom was born. After she gave birth, her uncle began making unwanted sexual advances towards her. Fearful for not only herself, but her baby girl, Reina’s abuela eventually had to leave her last tie to her family. With no money and no place to stay, she turned to prostitution to make ends meet.

Years later, Reina’s mom ran away from home. She eventually turned to prostitution herself, after a failed marriage and no formal education. Reina was born out of wedlock – a result of her mother’s career. She never knew who her father really was. Through the years Reina was dragged along with her mom from one remote village to another, often being driven out of town by women whose husbands were part of her regular clientele. One day, when Reina was about seven or eight, there was a particularly cruel group of boys calling her out. They were chasing her and throwing stones at her for what seemed to be miles. Reina eventually ran into what looked like an abandoned shack for shelter. The story went that the shack was actually where an old witch lived. The witch chased off the boys, casting a curse upon them that to this day no one dares to utter a word about.

Reina never left that shack to return to her mother. That witch was the person who introduced Reina into the world of witchcraft. Reina had learned how to create potions from this old woman who was always concocting something on her stove. This is the woman whom Reina calls mom - and who ultimately raised Reina, passing down to her every dark secret she knew.

Hers was a sad story to be sure, but she was a hard woman to pity. Reina had never been a friendly person, and she made for a distasteful neighbor. Quetz heard from the other neighbors in the apartment that Reina was always creating some weird potions; and it was widely known throughout the young in the neighborhood, that she even made stews out of young children who crossed her path. Although Quetz didn’t really believe the part about the kids, he had always been leery of Reina growing up.

Reina opened her door and motioned Quetz over. The way that the witch was now smiling as she extended a box toward Quetz was eerie; but he had waved first, and so he thought that the polite thing to do was to go over to her and try to engage her in conversation. The box in her hand was small and unmarked with a giant green bow upon the top. When Quetz got close to her, Reina opened the box and tilted it towards him so that he might have a better look at what was inside. Quetz jumped back - there was a dead rat lying inside of the box. She began to laugh a sinister, diabolical laugh. Feliz cumpleaños, she cackled.

Quetz was caught a little off guard at first, shaking his head in disbelief. Nevertheless, he was not afraid of her antics, not anymore. Had this event happened a day earlier, Quetz might have felt compelled to run from Reina. Boys under the age of fifteen were still considered boys and Reina was an adult. However, it was his birthday, and on this day he had entered the age of manhood. Quetz knew that if he had been living in the 1500s, he would have been considered a warrior upon this birthday and would have been expected to capture his first prisoner in order to achieve manhood. Granted, times had changed since then, but Quetz still became infuriated with the witch. The strong emotion rising up within him was the instinctive reaction of a warrior under the threat of an opponent. It was unlike Quetz to get so angry, and with so little provocation. The whole experience was a bit dizzying.

Suddenly, without trying and without thinking about what he was doing, Quetz found himself clearly reading Reina’s thoughts, "This is for you, pendejo. You need to learn the true purpose of life. You need to learn that all things must end." For the very first time in his life, he could read someone’s mind; but, with the bruja standing there across from him and taunting him the way that she was, he could not concentrate enough to consider what that meant.

Quetz became even more infuriated, and he thought to himself, why does this woman think that I am, an idiot? He flipped her the middle finger, and said out loudly, A la tuya, bruja. Before she could respond, he turned his back to her and proceeded to his own door.

Reina became enraged by his lack of fear and respect. She quickly slammed shut the lid of the box and her front door in seemingly one motion. Quetz put his key in the lock, but before he turned it he looked back to see if Reina was behind him. He did not trust her. The coast was clear. It was good to know that he could make her tuck tail and leave.

I hate that woman, Quetz said to himself. He could faintly hear Reina once again start her diabolical laugh from behind her door. It was as if she knew what he was thinking and delighted in annoying him. He wondered if reading someone else’s thoughts opened your own thoughts to them. He also wondered if he could telepathically shut her out of his mind. As soon as he thought it, he found that he really could shut her out. He was faintly aware that she was still laughing, but could no longer hear her.

When Quetz got to his bedroom he fell into bed. He was still quite dizzy, and the room would not stop spinning around him. He closed his eyes and gave himself a few minutes. When the world around him had finally stopped its unnatural motion, Quetz sat up and pulled out a sketch book. He began to work. He liked to keep a record of new and exciting things as they happened to him. He often fantasized of a greater purpose and counted every experience as a milestone in the journey towards that purpose. Recording experiences as they happened to him was a way of making sense of each new thing that he encountered. He was not yet sure how he felt about what happened back there in the hallway, but he had to write it down quickly while it was still fresh in his mind. Now that he was alone and able to think clearly, he thought about the intense emotions he had felt and the sudden spell of dizziness that he had suffered. Quetz decided that the dizziness must have had more to do with the fact that he had just read Reina’s thoughts than the anger that he had first attributed it to. Quetz knew that later - after he had time to truly reflect upon what had happened - the first person that he would talk to about his experience was his classmate and best friend, Papooee.

At first glance, Papooee was very conservative with crisp, tasteful clothes and a stylish haircut to match. His family was well-to-do and he looked the part. Complete with his Clark Kent glasses, Papooee could easily pass for any would-be scholar walking the halls of Brown or Yale. However, like Clark, when he removed his glasses he took on a whole new persona. If Papooee had a superpower, it was his ease with women. It seemed that Papooee was always chasing tail, even when it wasn’t chasing him. Quetz was driven by hard work and a greater purpose; Papooee was driven by women and music. To say that the two boys were different was a gross understatement, yet you were hard pressed to find a closer pair of friends. Since the beginning of their friendship, if a person knew where one boy was, they knew that the other boy was always somewhere nearby.

Papooee grew up a privileged kid in Mexico City. His father was a structural engineer whose company built bridges in and around Mexico City, as well as worked with some of the better architectural firms in the city. His mother was a housewife who met her husband while she attended theatre school. Living in Coyoacan satisfied her artistic sensibilities and she preferred living there over El Pedregal or Lomas de Chapultepec.

Papooee and Quetz had been friends since elementary school; but their devotion to each other became sealed one fateful day after school. On that particular day, a group of bullies who had been terrorizing Papooee for years approached him on the street. They cornered Papooee, and forced him into an alleyway. Knowing that Papooee's family was fortunate with money, the bullies demanded that he give them all of the money he had on him. One boy ripped his jacket from his back and started rifling through the pockets; they even