The Hybrid
By Nadine Ducca Deharbe


“Now there’s a case of hybridism if I ever saw one.”

“What?”

Helena’s unexpected words startled me and I looked up at her questioningly. She jutted out her chin, her chestnut curls framing her face. She wasn’t joking.

“Yeah. Definitely a hybrid. That man a couple of tables behind you. Have a look and tell me he isn’t one. Wait, don’t look yet… Okay, now.”

I gulped. Adjusting my vintage sunglasses, I twisted around in my seat with the subtle grace of a nesting ostrich. The first week of spring had sent dozens of people out to the garden terrace to enjoy the arrival of the sun’s warm rays. There must have been twenty people scattered across the many tables, drinking coffee, eating ice-cream and chatting. The mid-morning air was filled with the pleasant hum of social interactions.

“Which one?” I hissed, narrowing my eyes and hoping the sunglasses would conceal my intentions.

“The one sitting alone reading a book and drinking a coffee. Blond.”

Now I saw him. He sat at a small round table on my far left, holding a book up to his face with one hand and absent-mindedly stirring his coffee with the other. From where I sat he looked absolutely harmless; no more than a young man enjoying a mid-morning treat in a sunny, peaceful terrace, absorbed in a novel he had perhaps bought at the neighboring bookstore.

My fingers curled around the backrest of my seat as I openly stared at him. Yes. At first glance I wouldn’t have noticed, but soon my eyes began to focus on the disconcerting details in this man’s complexion.

Helena was right; there was something terribly wrong with him. The traits were almost undistinguishable although the more my trained eye looked the surer I was that we were dealing with a Hybrid. I had encountered quite a few since they started their invasion all those months back. I was still a fledgling in the Hybrid Extermination Corps, but thanks to Helena’s tips I was gaining confidence in my skills. Hopefully some day I would acquire her eagle eye.

Maybe the problem was the prickly hairs on his head, too rigid to be human. The Invaders, the Hybrids, were known to have coarse, bristlelike hairs which they cleverly disguised by gooping pounds of gel onto their heads. Some of them preferred to wear wigs, but that was usually the female minority.

As I was squinting to determine just how spindly, on a scale of one to five, the young Hybrid’s hands were, he must have sensed my intrusion on his privacy because in one graceful movement he lowered his book and his wide-set eyes fluttered up to me. With a poorly suppressed “eep!” I flung a hand in the air and hollered, “Waiter! Waiter!”

I turned back to see Helena rubbing her forehead, her lips curled into a smirk. “Please remind me to refuse future invitations from you to go Hybrid hunting,” she muttered. “One time we actually find one in broad daylight and you almost give us away.”

“I’m sorry! You know I’m still learning.”

At that precise moment, the waiter I had unexpectedly called came up to our table.

“Ladies, is there anything else I can bring you?”

Helena gestured for him to come closer. The waiter, a baffled look on his face, leaned over our table.

“Now listen carefully,” Helena whispered. “You’ve got an Invader on your terrace. Don’t react! Julia and I belong to the Hybrid Extermination Corps, buddy, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.” She partly opened her blazer and flashed her badge.

The waiter paled.

“What should I do?” he asked, his voice heavily marked with fear.

“Call the emergency services,” I said. “In the meantime, we’ll do what’s in our power to control him.”

The waiter nodded fervently and scurried away to report the Invader. We smiled nonchalantly and watched him go. Then Helena glanced past me and stiffened in her seat.

“Oh, crap. Just our luck,” she muttered.

“What?”

“He’s leaving.”

Not caring if our Invader noticed or not, I swerved around to see the young man standing over his table dropping a few coins onto his coffee saucer. At that point Helena and I exchanged looks and jumped from our seats.

“Halt!” Helena bellowed, pointing her service weapon at the Hybrid.

We were surrounded by a dozen shrieks as the patrons of the coffee house abandoned their conversations and dropped to the ground. They peered at us from under their tables, terror gleaming in their eyes. Only the Hybrid, not having taken the mandatory Intervention Protocol Course for all humans, stood rooted in place.

I had also taken out my gun, and as I pointed it at the center of the Invader’s chest I began to question myself if we weren’t rushing into murder. Are we absolutely sure this man is a Hybrid? But then my doubts were relieved. The Invader curled back his lips in a challenging sneer that revealed several rows of yellow fangs. At that moment I had no more qualms and as Helena and I fired all of our rounds into his jerking, twitching, burning body I knew we were doing the right thing. His arms flailed at his sides as our bullets drilled into his soft skin. The murky life-liquid that coursed through his veins splattered across the terrace tables, splashed onto terrified patrons’ arms as they huddled and covered their heads.

As we finished our rounds, the young Hybrid stopped his dance of death and slumped back against the chair, toppling it, taking it to the floor with him.

Helena and I stood over the corpse until the last light had vanished from its partly open eyes. The faint echo of sirens rang in the distance.

“Why don’t you vermin leave? This is our planet,” Helena spat.

But the Hybrid never answered. His life was splattered across the tables and chairs of the terrace.

One less Invader.

Once less menace to mankind.


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I am a translator and interpreter specializing in medical translation. Originally from Los Angeles, I now live in sunny Barcelona, Spain. I work as an exams supervisor for Cambridge ESOL and teach English at the Open University of Barcelona.