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The Killer Wasps of Java Part-5

Blood in the River

Part-4

The dawn light was weak, filtering through the mist of the waterfall and turning the clearing into a dreamlike haze. For a few moments, Amir and Sari could almost pretend the night had not happened. Almost.

Their clothes clung to their skin, damp and cold. Their eyes were red from lack of sleep. Sari chewed a piece of stale bread from her pack, forcing it down even though her stomach turned. Amir drank directly from the waterfall, the cold water biting his throat.

They had barely spoken since the swarm passed.

When the sun rose higher, Amir made the call. “We follow the river downstream. It will lead us back to a road, eventually. And maybe the spray will mask our scent.”

Sari nodded silently, clutching her pack.

They walked along the river’s edge, shoes slipping on wet rocks, the roar of the current filling their ears. The jungle was alive again with birds and monkeys, their calls echoing through the canopy. For the first time in days, the sounds were almost comforting.

But as they rounded a bend, that comfort shattered.

Amir stopped so suddenly Sari bumped into him. His arm shot out to hold her back.

The river ahead ran red.

Thick swirls of crimson spread through the current, staining the water as it rushed over rocks. At first Amir thought it was clay runoff, but then he saw the carcass.

A boar, half-submerged, its flesh stripped clean on one side. The ribs gleamed white, jutting from the remains like jagged teeth. Its skull was exposed, eyes hollowed out. The meat had been eaten so precisely, it looked carved.

Dozens of wasps swarmed the carcass, their bodies glistening as they landed, fed, and lifted again in a frenzied cycle. Their mandibles tore away at what little muscle remained, carrying red shreds into the canopy. The air vibrated with the sound of wings.

Sari clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling a cry.

Amir pulled her into the undergrowth, crouching low. His heart hammered so loudly he was sure they would hear it.

They watched in silence as the swarm feasted. The wasps moved with an efficiency that chilled Amir. They weren’t just eating. They were harvesting.

Sari whispered, her voice trembling. “They… they drained it alive.”

The boar’s legs were still twitching, spasms of nerves firing long after death. The sight made bile rise in Amir’s throat.

Suddenly, one of the wasps broke from the feeding frenzy. It hovered above the water, antennae sweeping. Then another followed, and another.

Amir felt the air shift.

“They smell us,” he mouthed.

He pulled Sari deeper into the ferns, dragging her down a slope toward the river. They slid on mud, water soaking their clothes, until they pressed themselves flat against a fallen log.

The humming grew louder. Shadows cut across the ground as the wasps circled overhead.

Sari’s fingers dug into Amir’s wrist. “If they find us…”

Amir shook his head sharply. He pointed downstream, where the current widened and poured into a narrow gorge. The rocks there were slick, but if they could reach the gorge, the spray might cloak them.

The hum swelled. A branch cracked above.

A wasp landed on the log. Its legs clicked against the bark, antennae twitching, mandibles wet with blood. Amir held his breath, muscles frozen.

The insect crawled inches from his face, its eyes reflecting a thousand fractured images of him. It tilted its head, almost curious.

Then a shriek cut through the trees.

Not human. Monkey.

The swarm shifted instantly, wings roaring as they darted toward the new sound. The canopy exploded with movement. Leaves rained down as monkeys screamed, scattering through the branches.

Amir didn’t wait. He yanked Sari’s hand and sprinted downstream.

Behind them, the forest erupted in chaos. Screams of primates echoed through the trees, cut short by the furious buzz of the wasps. Flesh tore. Bones cracked. The air filled with a high-pitched chorus of agony that made Amir’s stomach lurch.

They reached the gorge and splashed into the spray. The water thundered over their heads, soaking them instantly. They pressed into the rock face, gasping for breath, the sound of slaughter carrying over the roar of the river.

Sari trembled uncontrollably. “They are not just hunting. They are clearing the jungle.”

Amir stared at the blood-darkened water rushing past his legs. For the first time, he allowed himself to believe she was right.

Zsolt Zsemba

Zsolt Zsemba has worn many different hats. He has been an entrepreneur, and businessman for over 30 years. Living abroad has given him many amazing experiences in life and also sparked his imagination for writing. After moving to Canada from Hungary at the age of 10 and working in a family business for a large part of his life. The switch from manufacturing to writing came surprisingly easily for him. His passion for writing began at age 12, mostly writing poetry and short stories. In 1999, the chance came to write scripts. Zsolt took some time off from his family business to write in Jakarta Indonesia for MD Entertainment. Having written dozens of soap operas and made for TV movies, in 2003 Zsolt returned to the family business once more. In 2018, he had the chance to head back to Asia once again. He took on the challenge to be the COO for MD Pictures and get back into the entertainment business. The entertainment business opened up the desire to write once more and the words began to flow onto the pages again. He decided to rewrite a book he began years ago. Organ House was reborn and is a fiction suspense novel while Scars is a young adult drama focused on life’s challenges. After the first two books, his desire to write not only became more challenging but enjoyable as well. After having several books completed he was convinced to publish them for your enjoyment. Zsolt does not tend to stay in one specific genre but tends to lean towards strong female leads and horror. Though he also has a few human interest books, he tends to write about whatever brews in his brain for a while.