The First Survivors
The jungle was restless that night.
Amir and Sari huddled in the narrow cleft of the gorge, the mist clinging to their skin like cold sweat. The buzzing above never truly faded. It came in waves, sometimes thinning to a distant hum, only to surge again as hunting swarms returned to feed the hive. Every time, Amir held his breath and counted, certain the vibrations would betray them.
Sleep was impossible. Hunger gnawed at them, but thirst won out, so Amir crept to the edge of the stream. He cupped water into his hands, drinking in silence. When he lifted his head, he froze.
A pair of eyes watched him from across the rocks.
They weren’t the blank eyes of the dead villagers. These eyes blinked.
The figure was half-hidden in the brush, clothes torn and filthy. A man, gaunt and trembling, clutching something shiny in his hands. He looked like he had been living in the jungle for weeks, maybe longer.
Amir’s first instinct was fear. The man looked feral, desperate. But Sari stirred behind him, whispering, “What is it?” and the man lifted one finger to his lips.
“Quiet,” the stranger rasped. His voice was hoarse, shredded by thirst and fear. He gestured urgently for them to follow.
Amir hesitated. He did not trust easily, not here, not after what they had seen. But the swarm was everywhere, and the man’s eyes were alive. That meant survival. Survival meant knowledge.
He took Sari’s hand and nodded. They crept across the rocks, following the stranger deeper into the gorge.
The man led them through a narrow crevice hidden behind dangling roots. Inside was a cavity in the stone, barely large enough for the three of them. The air was damp, smelling of mould, but it was enclosed, muffling the jungle’s sounds.
The man sank against the wall, clutching the object in his hands. In the dim light, Amir saw it was a machete, rusted but sharp. The blade trembled as he gripped it.
“You saw the hive,” the man said. His voice cracked. “I can see it in your faces.”
Amir swallowed. “Yes. We saw.”
The man laughed bitterly, a broken sound. “Then you understand. You cannot fight them. You cannot burn them. They do not stop.”
Sari leaned forward, her voice steadier than she felt. “What are they? Why are they here?”
The man’s expression shifted, a flicker of shame passing through his gaunt features. “They are not supposed to be here. They were brought. Smuggled. I was part of it.”
Amir’s stomach clenched. “Smuggled?”
The man nodded, eyes darting as if expecting the hive itself to hear. “Collectors. Scientists. Rich men who wanted weapons, others who wanted pets, trophies, specimens. We brought crates through the ports, hid them in shipments of birds, snakes, exotic things. They paid us well. Too well.” He clenched the machete tighter, knuckles whitening. “But these… they were different. Larger. Hungrier. They ate everything. The animals went first. Then the villagers. Then my friends.”
His words filled the cave like smoke, choking them with dread.
Sari shook her head in disbelief. “You unleashed them. You let this happen.”
The man’s face twisted, not in anger but guilt. “We thought they would die. That the jungle would smother them. But they adapted. They thrived. You saw the hive.” His voice broke. “You saw the queen.”
Silence pressed in, heavy as stone. Amir felt the truth sinking in, deeper than the river’s current. This wasn’t an accident of nature. This was an infection planted by human greed.
The man leaned forward, eyes burning with something close to madness. “You cannot run. If you leave, they will follow. They will spread. They will find cities. Imagine Jakarta, imagine Surabaya, imagine the world drowning in wings.”
Amir’s breath caught. The scale of it staggered him. Entire cities stripped in hours. Skies black with wasps.
But Sari wasn’t paralyzed. Her voice cut sharp through the gloom. “If you helped bring them here, then you know how to stop them.”
The man’s lips trembled. He lowered the machete until it touched the stone between them. His eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“There is no stopping them,” he whispered. “But there may be a way to kill the hive. Not the wasps. The hive. The queen.”
The words hung in the damp air like a spark waiting for tinder.
Amir’s heart pounded. The thought was madness, suicide. Yet as he looked at Sari, he saw a glint in her eyes, something fierce, something that refused to die quietly in a cave.
She leaned closer. “Tell us how.”
The man’s shoulders slumped, as if crushed beneath the weight of what he was about to reveal. Outside, the jungle buzzed with hunger, the hive alive with restless wings.
And in the dark, the first ember of a plan began to burn.
