CAZADO: BOOK ONE (WATTYS 2023)

Chapter 2

It was Monday morning, and I knew I was going to be late. Those damn chickens in my father's yard had decided to sing more of their throat music. I knew I was frustrated because I had a presentation on theories related to the development of the Pariah and their powers. An interesting study that, throughout our school's neuroscience program, considered the idea that Pariahs' powers come through a special growth on the cerebral cortex. This growth somehow controlled the nerves of the body as well as energy within the organism's environment. It is much more complex than this, but that is just a basic understanding of the Pariah organism.

Usually, the growth did not appear on any person's brain until a certain age based on autopsies. Although, powers may have appeared earlier then the growth, which was founded based on empirical evidence. I always wondered if there was more to the development and brain powers of these individuals. The theories that had been proposed so far did not make complete sense. I mean many theories seemed to be void of much needed information. My presentation was a theory I had considered that not many scholars had even thought of, or they may have thought of it but had never written down as throughout my research I had not found something similar. And how I knew could have been the end of me and my father.

My father had left some coucou on the stove from the day before for breakfast. It seemed he had run out of fish and had used some gravy from one of the goats he had cooked for later in the day. Usually when he made dinner early it was because he would be out much later. My father did not work under a company. He just worked on the farm and made his dinero by selling animals, eggs and plants. This was not the reason for his tardiness when he was coming home. My father was a fighter; and sometimes visited the city for a less glamorous, slightly illegal career. As a fighter, he would often visit the city and make his dinero amongst the more villainous groups. The city, although run down, harbored criminals. Two gangs. The Mangosta Negra and the Pandilla Voladora.

The Mangosta Negra, I was told to stay away from as they were on the lowest of the criminal ladder. There was supposedly nothing they would not do, and many believed that they also worked for the officials. Some of my family members are in the Pandilla Voladora and they ran the south side of the old city. If it were not for their fighting skills, they would have been overrun by the Mangosta Negra a long time ago. My father was not part of any gang, and he did not want me to join them either. He did desire for me to know my uncle and my cousins. They had not materialized any powers, but they at least knew how to fight; just not as good as my dad. My father told me he did not want me to become a fighter like he was, but he still taught me everything he knew for my own protection. He believed it was only a matter of time before I could be able to best him in one-on-one combat. Beating him may have hurt his pride, And still, I thought, it would also make him proud. The one thing he did not want me to become was a Pariah. I was often confused by this, knowing he jumped at the chance that I could become an official.

I set out early and rode my motorcycle along the dusty streets near my home. The sun was shining bright behind a few heavy clouds and a mist still hung about the air. I knew I could still make it in time. My class started at ten in the morning, and I needed to be at the bus stop by eight to get there in time. The roads were still a mess and at times I had to slow down so I would not slide down any rough patches. My blue, yellow, and black winter coat kept me warm, blocking the cool air and trapping the heat around my ebony body. It was only seven now and I had plenty of time to spare.

Once I finally reached my destination, there was a long lineup of much older students. Some were planning on becoming teachers, or engineers of all sorts, and a few were also taking similar prerequisites for my program. All of them were Pariah who would eventually become officials. Seeing someone my age, so young, must have been both hilarious and insulting to them. I am only fifteen and most of them were now in their mid-twenties — maybe older. I did see a few younger students who were of Spanish descent as well. I knew they all knew each other. I did not know any of them.