The next month, I woke up to the sound of birds outside my window and the soft clatter of pans downstairs. I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes. Sunlight peeked through the curtains, and for a second, I just sat there, nothing in mind.
Just sitting.
My body finally grew some muscles after all those things I did in the playground.
I climbed out of bed and fixed my hair a little in the mirror. It stuck up on one side like a chicken's butt. I frowned and pushed it down.
Didn't work.
Oh well.
I put on my slippers and headed downstairs. The smell of fried eggs and rice filled the air. I could hear my mother humming a tune as she cooked. I saw my dad at the table, already halfway through his coffee.
"Morning, Jess," Dad said without looking up, flipping a page on his newspaper.
"Morning," I replied, sitting across from him.
My mom turned around with a smile. "Breakfast's almost ready. Wash your hands."
I did as I was told and came back just in time to see her placing a plate in front of me.
We ate quietly.
No one rushed.
No one chewing loudly.
It was nice.
After breakfast, I helped clean up, then headed back to the little library under the stairs. I sat on my bean and pulled out a new book, something about the diets of animals.
Today felt like a reading day.
But before I could start, my dad called out from the other room.
"Jess, get dressed. We're heading into somewhere today."
I blinked. "Town?"
"Sure," he said, walking in and fixing the buttons on his shirt. "Grocery run. Also… we want to show you something."
That got my attention.
"What is it?" I asked.
"You'll see," he said, smiling.
I got dressed fast. Threw on a clean shirt, pants, and my sneakers. I didn't even bother fixing my hair again. What's the point?
When I got downstairs, my dad was already waiting by the door, keys in hand. My mom gave me a small lunch bag with snacks, just in case.
"Don't lose this," she said, handing it over.
"I won't," I said, swinging it over my shoulder.
We got into the car and headed out. The drive was quiet at first, just the hum of the engine and the wind through the windows. I stared out, watching trees and houses pass by. As my imaginary friend parkours through them.
Then I saw the sign.
*City Zoo – 5 km ahead*
My eyes lit up a little.
"We're going to the zoo?" I asked, turning to my dad.
He grinned. "Surprise."
I didn't say anything, but inside, I felt a little excited. I'd never been to a zoo in my past life. Closest thing I saw to a tiger was a poster in a fast food place.
We arrived and parked.
There were a lot of people, mostly families with kids. Some kids were crying, some were laughing, some were running around like they were raised by wolves.
We went in and walked past the gates. The smell of popcorn and animal poop mixed in the air. Weird combo, but not bad.
The first animals we saw were flamingos. They stood on one leg and looked like they were judging everyone.
"Why do they only stand on one leg?" I asked.
"Maybe the other one gets tired," my dad said with a shrug.
We walked more.
Lions. Giraffes. Monkeys that looked way too smart. A panda that was just lying there like it gave up on life.
Then we reached the reptile house.
It was dark inside. Cool. Kinda creepy.
I stared at a snake behind the glass. It didn't blink. Just stared back at me.
Then I saw a kid tap on the glass even though the sign clearly said *DO NOT TAP ON GLASS*.
The snake moved a little.
The kid screamed.
I laughed quietly.
We kept going until we reached the aviary. Birds flying everywhere, making noise. One of them landed on my dad's shoulder. He froze like a statue. I almost died trying not to laugh.
After walking through most of the zoo, we reached the gorilla enclosure.
There were three of them. One was sitting in the back, picking at something in the grass. Another one was lying down, not moving much. The last one was near the front, right by the glass, just staring out at the people.
I stopped in front of it.
It was big. Bigger than I expected.
It looked straight at me.
And for a second, I felt… weird.
Like something inside me moved.
A soft pull in my chest.
Not painful. Just strange.
Like a string that got tugged.
I didn't move. I just stared back at it. Its eyes were dark, but not empty. Like it knew something.
And I couldn't explain it.
Then—
"Jess! Come on, the penguins are over here!"
My dad's voice broke the moment.
I blinked, looked over, and saw him waving.
When I looked back at the gorilla, it was gone. Moved back to the shade, sitting down like before.
I shook the feeling off and ran after my dad.
The penguins were loud. Really loud. And they smelled weird. But they waddled around and flapped their wings and one even slipped on the rocks. The kids nearby laughed, and so did my dad.
I smiled too, but my mind kept going back to the gorilla.
That stare.
That feeling.
I didn't know what it meant.
Maybe nothing.
But it didn't feel like nothing.
[--------------------------------------------]
The past few months have been increasingly chaotic. A new virus, H5G9, has spread rapidly, and my mother is on the verge of giving birth. It's a girl.
We've been holed up inside, trying to stay safe while the world outside grows more uncertain. Every day, we monitor the news for updates, hoping for some good news amidst the chaos.
[ BREAKING NEWS! ]
A virus called H5G9 has emerged, accompanied by an unusual phenomenon: human babies being born with animal features. These babies are being referred to as Hybrids—half-human, half-animal.
The question is...
What came first? The Hybrids or the Virus?
[--------------------------------]
"Hey, Mom, what if—" I began to ask, but my father's voice cut through my worries.
"If it is, then we'll love her because she's family," Dad said firmly, his voice laced with reassurance.
"Yes, we'll love her, and you'll be her big brother. You need to take care of her," my mother added, gently running her fingers through my hair, her touch calming me.
"I will. I promise to protect her with everything I have," I vowed, feeling a surge of determination and responsibility.
[------------------------------------]
Days turned into a tense waiting period. My mother's labor was imminent, and I was left alone at home. They said it was too risky for me to go out, given the escalating situation outside.
Despite the assurances, I couldn't shake my anxiety. I hoped that they would come back safely. To calm myself, I took a walk around the house, reminiscing about the simpler times before the world was turned upside down.
I recalled baking with my mother—Dad had tried to help, but he ended up messing things up by setting the wrong temperature. The bread came out burnt and crispy instead of soft and fluffy. I chuckled as I remembered how Dad had looked, embarrassed but good-natured about his culinary failure.
As I was lost in these memories, a cacophony of noises from outside jolted me. I rushed to the window and peered out at our front yard and the street beyond.
The scene was a disarray of chaos and confusion. I saw our neighbors, an Indian couple, in the midst of the turmoil. My mother had mentioned that the husband was a doctor. If that was the case, why wasn't he at the hospital? Was his wife infected with the virus?
"Poor guy," I muttered to myself, watching with concern as they drove away toward the hospital—likely where he worked.
With them out of sight, I turned away from the window and headed upstairs to my room. I couldn't stop thinking about what my little sister would look like. Would she take after Mom, with her Latina brown hair and warm brown eyes? Or would she resemble Dad, with his tan skin, black hair, and striking green eyes? Maybe she'd look like me—a blend of both, with black hair, brown eyes, and a baby face that would probably change with time.
*Sigh* I can't wait to meet her.
I entered my room and started preparing for the possibility that we might need to leave at a moment's notice. I grabbed two empty bags and began filling them with essentials: clothes, family photos, books, and a camera. There was a nagging feeling that our stay here might be cut short.
Suddenly, the sound of a car pulling into our driveway caught my attention. I hurried downstairs, my heart pounding with excitement and anxiety. I was eager to see my baby sister and to find out if my parents were safe.
When the front door swung open, I was greeted by the sight of my parents, and my baby sister, who appeared to be perfectly normal. At least, she seemed like a typical newborn.
We all settled on the couch in the living room. My mother carefully held the baby, while my father took a seat beside her.
"So, what's her name?" I asked, curiosity brimming in my voice.
"Well, we decided that you should name her," Mom said, her eyes twinkling as she looked at me with a hopeful smile.
"For real!?" I exclaimed, unable to contain my excitement.
"Shhh!" Both parents shushed me in unison.
"Oops, sorry," I whispered, suddenly aware of the need for quiet.
"Yup. Would you like to hold her?" Dad asked, his tone gentle.
"Of course! Who wouldn't?" I replied eagerly.
As Mom handed me the baby, I felt a profound sense of hope and joy. Holding my sister for the first time, I marveled at the tiny, peaceful form in my arms.
Hope...
"That's her name—Hope," I said softly, gazing at her with a warm smile.
"That's a beautiful name," Mom said, her voice soothing as Dad nodded in agreement.
After a few minutes, my parents began packing, preparing for whatever lay ahead. They left us alone in the living room with Hope. As I watched her sleep, I noticed something unusual about her appearance. Her body had a more muscular structure, and there was a light layer of hair on her skin. It wasn't excessive, but it was definitely noticeable.
"She's a hybrid..." I whispered, my eyes widening in shock as the realization sank in.