Fiction- Hero Story

The Legend of the Boy Who Saved Mexico
As he ambled home from school, Fernando caught a glimpse of an old Mexican man out of the corner of his eye. The man, he observed, was staring at him intently. Worried, Fernando quickened his pace. Once he was well past the man, he slowed back down to a standard walk. Though he was half-Mexican himself, Fernando did not connect much with other Mexicans. He did not speak any Spanish and did not know of the trials and hardships they conversed of. His parents both worked at Microsoft, and both had an excessive salary, which helped pay for Fernando’s spacious house in a wealthier neighborhood. In other words, Fernando had always been comfortable, and thought of himself highly.
Later that night, as Fernando lay in bed, he reflected back on that elderly man and his shabby state. “I could be just like that,” Fernando realized. He now knew that it was not because he was better than other people that his life was superior, it was because he was lucky enough to have parents who had high-quality jobs and made enough money to get possessions they wanted. He shrugged this off as he fell asleep.
The next morning, Fernando woke up and got ready to go to his Denver private school. When he strolled out the door, he was startled to see the same old man from the day before sitting on the ground of his front yard.
“Who are you?” Fernando called out, keeping his distance.
“I am Alberto Chavez, and I am here to deliver a message,” the man declared.
“Well, you can just put it in the mail box because I have to go to school now,” Fernando nervously replied.
“Fernando Diaz, my county of Mexico needs you. You are Mexico’s only hope,” Alberto continued.
“What are you talking about? And how do you know my name?” Fernando probed.
“There is a legend in Mexico of an American boy who comes to Mexico, becomes a man, and returns Mexico to its glory,” Alberto alleged. “I have been looking all my life for that boy and you are him. I have been watching you Fernando, you are the one.”
“What do you want me to do?” Fernando posed, intrigued.
“You must go to Tucson, Arizona and locate a man named Norberto, he will tell you what to do,” Alberto responded.
“And what about you?” Fernando questioned.
“My time here is done. I have served my life’s purpose. Good bye.” The old man vanished as mysteriously as he appeared.
Fernando hastily wrote his parents a note telling them that he was fine, but that he would be going on a three-day trip to Arizona to watch his school compete in the golf championships. In reality, he wanted to see if there really was a Norberto in Tucson, and missing school would not be bad either.
Fernando eagerly packed clothes, food, and water. For the first time in his life, he was doing something daring. Who knew if this legend was true or if it was all some old, senile man’s idea of a joke. Fernando did not know, but he jumped into his red pickup truck and started driving south.
All Fernando knew about Tucson was that it was in Arizona somewhere; about a ten-hour drive he was told. He had never driven farther than ten miles away, and even then, his friends were with him to keep him company. Now, after hours of driving, Fernando was having trouble staying alert and knew he should find a hotel to stay in and rest.
The next thing Fernando knew, he was awakened by the howl of coyotes. He was about a 40 feet off the main road, parked in the desert. He must have dozed off while driving. Thankfully he was safe. How long had he been asleep, and where was he? Then he saw a sign; he was only ten miles from Tucson. As he turned the key to start the car, the engine made a sputtering sound, his engine was dead. Minutes later, a car pulled off the road and stopped beside his vehicle.
“What is the problem?” a young man inquired.
“My engine died,” Fernando cried.
“Well that is a problem. I have some jumper cables in my trunk, then perhaps your car will last long enough to get into town,” the man offered.
“Thanks. Oh, and by the way, have you heard of a man named Norberto?” Fernando asked.
“Oh yes, everyone knows Norberto. He lives all alone on the top of the biggest hill in town and everyday, all day, he looks out the window. No one knows who or what he is waiting for,” the man explained.
“Never mind my car, can you take me to Norberto please” Fernando implored.
“Sure, but what about your car?” the man asked.
“It will be fine here, just take me to him please,” Fernando pleaded.
After thanking the man for his help again, Fernando turned to look at the house on the hill. The front yard was in disarray, there were old children’s toys scattered about the lawn. The lawn looked to have been dead for a least a decade, if it was ever alive in the first place. Then Fernando saw the massive window. How could he have missed it in the first place? It took up almost an entire side of the house. Then he saw two eyes gazing at him. The porch light turned on. The door handle began to turn. Fernando wanted to run, but his legs were frozen to the ground. The door opened and a voice whispered, “Come in. I have been waiting for you.”
“Norberto, just how long have you been waiting for me?”
“Ever since Alberto told me of the legend I have waited, twenty years ago to this very day. My family has all left to start families of their own and do jobs. But I have the most important job of all. I am Norberto Fuertes and I shall train you to become the leader that Mexico needs. Your training begins tomorrow.”
Fernando was so happy to go to sleep that he did not even think about what happened today. It was probably all a dream anyway, he told himself.
Four hours later, he was rudely awakened by the sound of voices shouting in another language. He opened his eyes and saw what could only be a Mexican soap opera.
“You will watch this every morning when you wake up. Eventually, you will begin to understand as we go over Spanish together,” ordered Norberto.
“What a waste of time,” Fernando thought to himself. “What good is it to watch a show in a different language?”
He spotted something at the side of his bed, it read as follows: Soap Opera 5 – 6 a.m., Spanish study 6 – 9 a.m., breakfast 9 – 9:30 a.m., meditation and fitness 10 – 3 p.m., Spanish study 3 – 5 p.m., dinner 5:30 – 6 p.m., relaxation 6 – 8 p.m., sleep 8 – 12 a.m., midnight run 12 – 1 a.m., sleep 1 – 5 a.m. It obviously was a schedule for him. It did not look like he was going to have much fun here at the house on the hill. How would all of these things help him become a great leader of Mexico like he was supposedly going to become. He might as well relax now and enjoy the soap opera, as annoying as it may be.
After watching for an hour, Fernando was ushered into a small classroom by Norberto. So much for missing school. Three hours later, after learning numbers 1 – 100, basic greetings, and how to conjugate –ir and –ar verbs in Spanish, it was time for breakfast. Norberto advised him not to eat too much breakfast this morning, so he had only one piece of toast. Then it was off to the home’s personal fitness center. Norberto told him that to be a good leader, one should be mentally and physically fit. Fernando personally did not understand this, but Norberto had been planning this for twenty years, he had to know what he was doing. The meditating was not bad, but got tedious after a while. The exercising, on the other hand, was torture. Fernando did pull-ups, pushups, and sprints. How being physically fit was going to help him, he did not know. All he knew was that a huge Mexican man named Norberto was telling him to do it, and that was good enough for him, for now. The rest of the day went as scheduled, and as Fernando crawled into bed, exhausted, he thought of escape. He could make it, he knew. Though Norberto was big, he was not very fast. Fernando doubted that Norberto would even lay a hand on the “future of Mexico.” Tonight thought, Fernando was wiped out. There would be no escaping, yet.
Four hours later, Fernando heard a knock on the door. “It couldn’t be morning yet,” he thought.
“Who is it?” he inquired.
“Norberto. It is time for your midnight run,” he dully stated.
“Are you coming with me?” Fernando anxiously inquired.
“No, it is up to you if you want to return,” Norberto spoke seriously.
This would be too easy, Fernando knew. All he had to do was find a phone, and he would be away from all this and back to being a normal kid. But as he jogged down those rundown streets of Tucson, Arizona, something inside of him was telling him that the legend was true. His brain told him that ho, this could not be true, but heart was telling him otherwise. These streets were not near as bad as the downtrodden ones of Mexico. If he was the one to change things, and he did not, he could never forgive himself. After a painstakingly long look at a phone booth, Fernando turned around and headed back to the house on the hill.
Fernando’s training with Norberto continued for several years. As Fernando looked back on that first day, he laughed at how foolish and untrusting he was. Once had has become fluent in Spanish, Fernando had started watching the news in Mexico. What he saw saddened him. These people were struggling for far less than minimum wage. Maybe, with the proper schooling, these men and women could have been an asset to society. But with no hope of a college education, they were reduced to selling various trinkets and Chiclets to tourists. Not for long though. Fernando would bring Mexico back to respectability. He would be more than that; he would be a sign of hope and change. Fernando knew the time had finally come for him to enter Mexico and start in motion the plan that would change the history of this humble nation.
As Fernando and Norberto neared the border, Fernando thought of how far he had come. He was no longer an ignorant boy; Fernando had become a man. The adversities of his people were not unknown to him anymore, far from it; he knew his culture front and back. Doubt crept into his mind. What if he could not connect with the people of Mexico? Although he looked like them and now spoke like them, could he really be one of them? Only time could tell.
The first night in Mexico was a rough one for Fernando. He was sick from the water and trying to sleep in a small stone house with fourteen other people was far from comfortable. It was a new experience to Fernando, living so close to others, shivering to stay warm at night.
“Well,” he thought, “this will only be temporary. Norberto and I will live in some nice place like we did in Tucson.”
The next morning, Fernando was shaken awake at the rising of the sun.
“Why so early?” he asked a young boy.
“We must pick the cotton before it gets too hot,” the young boy replied.
After several months of this backbreaking work, Fernando went to talk to Norberto.
“Norberto,” Fernando demanded, “how is this helping Mexico? I cannot change people’s lives when I am in a field picking cotton!”
“You are not ready yet,” Norberto said, “you must live like the people you want to help before you can help them.”
“Well I am sick of all this training. It’s been more than two years since it has started and what do I have to show for it. Nothing,” Fernando spat.
“If that is how you feel, the it is obvious that you are not ready,” Norberto said. “This isn’t about you, it’s about the people,” Norberto shot back. The two turned away from each other and walked in different directions, fuming.
Fernando did not know where he was going, as he stomped through the cotton fields. He was here in Mexico to help people, not pick cotton, was all he could tell himself. After walking for about ten minutes, he stumbled upon a small village. The houses here made the one he was staying in feel like a mansion. The people were so skinny he could count their ribs through their shirts. This scene was new and old to Fernando at the same time. He had seen this on the news many times, but had never actually seen one of these towns in person. Norberto was right, this was not about him.
After apologizing to Norberto, Fernando took his spot in the household. It was not a fun life, there was always some kind of work to be done, but they did not go hungry like their neighboring village. Day after day, Fernando kept the monotonous routine. Then, one day, the family gathered around the radio. It was a speech, Fernando could tell, a political speech.
“It is time,” Norberto said from the corner of the room, “time to begin our campaign.”
Fernando’s campaign was different from the other candidates. Instead of bashing his opponents on the radio or television, he and Norberto drove to towns in a small white car. When they were to these towns, Fernando would climb on top of a home and start speaking. His words captivated his audience, which varied in sizes of ten to one thousand. After a while, word had got around about him and even more people showed up to hear him speak. Pretty soon, the other candidates started bashing him. They would call him a rabble-rouser and said that he could not understand the way the people really felt, because he was not raised in Mexico. Sometimes, these comments hurt Fernando and he yearned to retaliate. That was not what he was about though. He would not seek things for his own benefit, only for the Mexican people.
Six months, 150 speeches, and ten million people later, it was Election Day. Fernando felt pretty good about his chances; he had after all spoken to a tenth of the population. The people that had not attended his speeches had almost certainly about him, not from radio or television, but from friends and relatives whom they could rely on. It all came down to whether his speeches had made the effect they seemed to have had. Fernando and Norberto had continued to glow closer. Fernando looked up to Norberto as an older brother figure. Without Norberto’s training, knowledge and level-headedness, Fernando would be nothing. As a show of gratitude, Fernando had already decided that if he were to be elected, he would ask Norberto to be his chief of staff.
Across the country, millions were voting. Fernando sat in his hotel room, his TV turned to CNN. The preliminary polls had all been close, and the experts said that whoever won would do it within a margin of 5,000 votes. This was far closer than Norberto had wanted it to be, Fernando could tell as he watched his friend pace around the room.
“Why are you so nervous?” Fernando asked.
“If the election turns out to be as close as these experts are saying, then anything could go wrong. Votes could be miscounted; recounts could ensue. Who knows, the wrong person could even end up in office,” Norberto ranted.
“Well, I guess I will have to widen that gap,” Fernando stated plainly. He walked out of the room and out into the streets of Mexico City. He walked to the main plaza where the reporters covering the election had congregated amongst the thousands of locals who awaited the opening of the polls. One of the reporters from CNN Mexico grabbed him and asked him to give a live interview with his final thoughts before the voting began. The speech was broadcast on giant television screen in the plaza and shown to millions of viewers around the country.
“People of Mexico, today you make a decision that will change your lives forever. I am the one you have been waiting for. I am the one from the legend. And this is my story,” Fernando shouted to the stunned crowd. “Together we will make our nation proud. Our people deserve a better life. Together we will make it happen. You have been waiting for me for many years. It is time for our country to be great again.”
Back in the hotel room, Norberto smiled. This election was theirs he knew, as he saw the speech on CNN. Even though no one knew the legend Fernando spoke of, they would tell themselves that they did. Of course they would not know the legend as Norberto had made it up after all. He did not like lying to Fernando, but it had to be done. The old man was actually his father, whom he had sent to find a boy that he could change into a leader. His father scouted out Fernando for weeks before he made his move, sending Fernando to find Norberto. Now, as he packed his bag, his part was over. He walked out the door and returned home, back to his quiet home on the hill. No one but Fernando would ever know how much Norberto contributed. That was fine with Norberto as this was not about him; it was about the people of Mexico. Later that night, as Fernando celebrated his win with the former president and other politically important people, he silently mourned his friend’s departure. Norberto had been his only real friend for a long time. Now that Norberto was gone, he did not know what to do. Work would be his number one priority, not trying to make friends. He would begin to put his big ideas out to the public tomorrow. Some people would not enjoy these concepts, not until they saw what would become of them.
The next morning, Fernando called the American president, Steve Wilson.
“Hello President Wilson,” Fernando spoke.
“Hello President Diaz. What is it that you would like to speak to me about?” Steve Wilson wondered.
“It is about the wall your citizens have been calling for,” Fernando replied.
“Yes, what about it?” President Wilson asked.
“I am willing to send you 50,000 men to begin construction on that wall. The United States will pay a fair salary and all living expenses for these men as well as their families.”
“Wait a second, you want to build the wall?” President Wilson asked in amazement.
“Yes, that is exactly what I am proposing,” Fernando answered. His citizens would be furious with him, Fernando knew. If they understood his reasoning, however, they would love him for it. It was a brilliant idea really. Mexico was losing too many of its young people to the United States. Many of the people went to America because there was more money to be made there. They hoped for a better life. The money generated from building this wall would generate a new cash flow. The more money the people made, the more taxes could be paid and with those taxes, President Diaz could put his ideas for Mexico into play. The wheel was slowly beginning to turn.
Four months later, that wheel was moving at a steady pace. The wall was coming along nicely. Immigration rates were dropping rapidly. Tourism was beginning to increase as the economy rose. There was less sickness among tourists and citizens after the Food and Drink Sanitation Acts were passed. “Why wasn’t he happier?” Fernando thought. He knew the answer to this haunting question already. He had done some great things, but none of them would have a lasting effect on his country. One incompetent president could ruin everything he had done and return his country to poverty. What could he do to prevent a depression after the cash flow from the wall ceased?
After consulting with his advisors for a solution this problem, and finding no answer, he sought help from the people he trusted most.
Fernando had not seen his parents since he had left to Tucson on that fateful day. Now, as he stood on the front porch, he wondered what to say. Before he could give it further thought, an elderly man answered the door.
“Ah, Mr. Fernando, sir, your parents are expecting you,” the man kindly stated.
“Who are you?” inquired Fernando.
“I am Percy, the butler. Now if you will follow me sir,” Percy beckoned.
His parents had obviously done well in his absence. When Fernando walked into the room his parents were in, he knew that they had done more than well. Sitting in a red leather armchair was the owner of Microsoft himself, Bill Gates.
After a tearful reunion with his parents, Fernando knew it was time for business.
“Let me say, Mr. Gates, it is an honor,” Fernando exclaimed.
“The honor is all mine Mr. President. You know, your story reminds me of my own. A true underdog tale,” Bill Gates spoke softly.
“Thank you, Mr. Gates, we both know though, that my presidency will be worthless if I cannot find a way to fix the economy for good.”
“That is exactly the reason why I am here. It became obvious to me that when the wall was completed, Mexico’s economy would slowly fall back to where it was. I have a solution to this problem. Would you like to hear it?” Bill Gates asked.
“Yes, please go on,” Fernando anxiously replied.
“For a while now, I have been looking for an area to build my new Microsoft headquarters. After much self-debate, I have chosen Mexico. That is, with the permission of the President of Mexico,” Bill Gates stated.
“Yes, definitely yes!” Fernando said quickly as though afraid that the offer would be withdrawn.
The two men shook hands, and with this handshake, Fernando knew that his dream of a prosperous Mexico would truly come to pass. The fabricated tale of the boy who saved Mexico turned out to be true after all.