Terror of the Killer Bees

Without warning, Yue Yang was suddenly ensnared by a creeping vine and hoisted upside down. Caught off guard, he flailed helplessly as his gun slipped from his grasp. Basang, quick on his feet, unsheathed his hunting knife and with a resounding "clang," severed the vine, the knife embedding itself deep into the tree trunk. Yue Yang had barely hit the ground when gunfire erupted from all directions. The four men instinctively rolled into cover, each seeking refuge behind a tree.

Pinned down by a relentless barrage of bullets, they couldn't immediately determine how many enemies surrounded them. Bark splintered under the hail of gunfire, with stray rounds painfully grazing their faces. Tashi Danba, by a stroke of luck, had lost the dart frog clinging to him during his evasive roll. Zhang Li, however, wasn't so fortunate. A dazzling sapphire-blue dart frog leisurely crawled up the trunk of the tree he was hiding behind, coming within ten centimeters of his head. The frog seemed intent on moving closer. With bullets flying all around, Zhang Li couldn't shoot, couldn't draw his knife, and definitely couldn't relocate. Instead, he whispered desperately, "Big guy, stay away, alright? Show some mercy!" The frog's tiny eyes widened as it stared at Zhang Li, even blinking suggestively as if mocking him.

The enemy's firepower was formidable. Before long, Yue Yang gestured to the group, analyzing their weapons: "Six semi-automatic rifles, five submachine guns, and two light machine guns. There are active fire points to the east, west, and south." This meant at least 13 enemies were already lying in wait. Although the northern side was left unguarded, it was likely a trap. Tashi Danba couldn't help cursing Mark in his mind, recalling the man's shifty gaze during his oath.

After a while, the gunfire ceased. Basang prepared to counterattack but was forced back into cover as two bullets whizzed past his head. A mocking voice called out from the forest in broken English, "Hahaha! This jungle is full of ambushes, but we were lucky to catch you first. Hey, Chinese, surrender and drop your weapons! We won't kill you."

Their identity exposed, the four were shocked, especially Tashi Danba. His mind raced to identify the leak. Could it have been Lu Jingnan? Unlikely—recent encounters had been too deadly to allow for betrayal. Had Holmen and Kesa divulged their location under duress? That didn't seem plausible either; they knew little about the group and lacked a solid motive. The only remaining explanation was the shadowy figures who had been tailing them since Kekexili, possibly linked to the mysterious individual trying to recruit him. But would such a person really go to such lengths, even enlisting guerrillas and drug cartels, to capture him? It didn't make sense—he had nothing of value to offer them.

When the group didn't respond, the voice outside continued, "Throw out your weapons, and we guarantee we won't shoot. We're legitimate military forces; you can trust us."

"Like hell we trust you," the four thought in unison. However, pinned by enemy fire, escape seemed impossible. Without grenades, smoke bombs, or flashbangs, they couldn't punch their way out. This was meant to be a jungle crossing mission, not a full-scale firefight. Even if they had anticipated it, procuring such weapons was out of the question. Armed only with guns and knives, they didn't even have rocks to throw. As they scrambled for solutions, Yue Yang shot a glance at Zhang Li, nudging his lips toward the dart frog. At first, Zhang Li didn't catch on. But after Yue Yang gestured repeatedly, his meaning became clear: Use the frog. Zhang Li's eyes widened in disbelief. He angrily signaled back, "You want me to throw this thing? No way!"

Despite their dire situation, Zhang Li vehemently shook his head. The dart frog was already unnerving enough; touching it was a death wish. This was clearly a job for Basang. Yet the other three looked at him expectantly—some pleading, others commanding. Yue Yang even pantomimed erecting a tombstone in Zhang Li's honor, adding to the pressure. Resigned, Zhang Li reluctantly wrapped his hand in layers of cloth before reaching toward the frog. Muttering under his breath, he pleaded, "Big guy, could you do me a favor and hop over gently?"

The sapphire-blue dart frog turned its head as if understanding Zhang Li's words. To his astonishment, it hopped straight into his hand. Without wasting a second, Zhang Li hurled the frog toward the shrub where three enemies were hiding, retracting his hand just as bullets began tearing through the foliage. A faint rustling followed by muffled curses confirmed the frog had landed somewhere close. Moments later, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the jungle.

Seizing the opportunity, Zhang Li emerged from behind the tree and unleashed a burst of gunfire on the disoriented trio. The others coordinated their attacks, suppressing fire from the other two directions. Amidst the chaos, the four retreated westward, their movements synchronized and calculated. The guerrillas, however, weren't about to let them go, and a high-stakes jungle chase ensued.

Gunfire erupted through the dense forest like a symphony of chaos, scattering birds and beasts in all directions. The group retreated barely three miles before their path was blocked by a wall of intertwined underbrush and towering trees. The enemy was closing in fast, their suppressive fire forcing the four to keep their heads down. To make matters worse, their ammunition was nearly depleted.

Realizing their plight, the attackers tightened the noose. Over the din, a taunting voice barked in English, "Stubborn Chinese! You'll pay for your defiance. Prepare to die!" A series of hissing sounds followed as yellow smoke began seeping through the jungle.

"Gas grenades!" Yue Yang exclaimed. The group quickly tore strips of fabric, doused them in urine, and used the makeshift masks to cover their noses and mouths. It was an unorthodox but effective method of countering the gas. Yet even this wouldn't hold for long. From his vantage point, Sories observed the scene with mild disappointment. "They don't look like a trained combat unit at all. At this rate, they won't make it out of this jungle alive… unless…" His binoculars focused on a peculiar dark cloud in the distance. It floated steadily toward the forest, its movements uncanny. At times, it dispersed into a hazy mist; at others, it coalesced into a dense, carpet-like mass.

Recognizing the formation's direction, Sories shifted his gaze back to the guerrillas surrounding the group. Spotting a familiar face or two among the ambushers, his sinister grin widened. "It seems luck is on your side this time. Let's see how long you last."

The guerrillas, wary of the drifting gas, stayed low, taking cover beyond the chemical cloud's range. One of them, crouched to the left, muttered to a bearded comrade on the right, "I still feel itchy from that weird stuff that freak threw yesterday." The bearded man dismissed him curtly, "Shut up and focus. They might charge at any moment."

The guerrillas, previously hit by Sories' peculiar concoction, had washed off the sticky substance, only to find persistent blue marks scattered across their skin. The marks, resembling rashes, were impossible to scrub away, making them the butt of jokes among their comrades. Humiliated, they saw capturing Tashi Danba's group as a chance to restore their dignity. Little did they know, their humiliation was far from over.

A man, presumably the squad leader, issued an order in a low voice: "They won't last much longer. In a moment, give them a few bullets, but don't kill them. General Bola specifically wants them alive." One of his subordinates nodded in agreement and was just about to flatter the leader, praising his brilliance and tactical acumen, when an unusual sound interrupted them.

A strange, rhythmic noise drifted through the jungle, faint at first but growing steadily louder. It was erratic and elusive, reaching everyone's ears as if they were surrounded by mosquitoes. Yet, looking around, there were no mosquitoes to be seen. Both the guerrilla fighters and Tashi Danba's group heard it and found it equally strange. Everyone had applied insect-repelling ointments—a necessity for traversing the jungle, where a single mile without protection would leave one covered in bites, some from venomous mosquitoes carrying deadly diseases. But this was the first time they'd encountered such persistent pursuit.

The sound intensified, growing louder and more distinct. It became clear this wasn't the buzzing of mosquitoes. But what was it? Before anyone could process, the vanguard of the killer bees emerged from the jungle, swiftly surrounding the guerrillas who had encircled Tashi Danba and his group.

The bees were monstrous—each with a thumb-thick abdomen, five centimeters in length, and stingers over a centimeter long. Their black-and-yellow-striped bodies moved with an agility that was almost supernatural. Soon, the forest was overrun with these deadly creatures. Wherever the eye could see, the air was filled with the chaotic dance of these lethal insects, swarming under the command of dozens of queen bees. The sight was terrifying: an army of over a million bees, mobilizing with deadly precision.

Tashi Danba and his companions knew all too well how dangerous these bees were. In the Americas, encountering even three to five of these creatures without immediate treatment could be fatal. Now, facing such an overwhelming swarm, there was no time for the guerrillas to react before the bees descended upon them in a frenzied assault.

Screams tore through the jungle, far more harrowing than the earlier cries of the man stung by a dart frog. The despair in those voices brought to mind the memory of someone surrounded by hamsters in Kekexili. This time, there was no place to hide. A guerrilla fighter shrieked as bees crawled over his face, his panicked gunfire injuring his nearby comrades instead of the insects. The bees, like miniature helicopters, hovered effortlessly in place, capable of 360-degree turns. Bullets were useless against them.

One fighter, clutching his face, bolted into the jungle, only to collapse like a felled tree stump less than ten meters away. Another swatted frantically at the bees swarming him, but one landed on the back of his head and stung him before darting away. Clutching his neck in agony, his body froze, making him an easy target for more bees. Soon, his face, chest, and back were covered with the relentless insects, his movements reduced to involuntary spasms.

Another soldier screamed in terror as a bee darted into his open mouth, delivering a sting somewhere inside. His voice turned hoarse and guttural, his bulging eyes filled with the horror of someone glimpsing hell. Yet another guerrilla, stung three times, clenched his teeth and glared at his fallen comrades in terror. Unable to bear the pain, he shakily raised his gun, reversed it, and aimed at his own head. As another wave of bees approached, he let out a final roar and pulled the trigger.

The rest of the guerrillas fared no better. Even a single sting left them unable to hold their weapons. They flailed wildly, using their hands and clothes to swat at the bees, rolling on the ground in desperate attempts to escape. Their anguished screams and futile struggles made it clear: this wasn't a battle; it was a massacre. The guerrillas had no means to fight back. Many succumbed to the venom, writhing on the ground or collapsing in twisted heaps, while others thrashed against tree trunks or were accidentally shot by their panicked comrades. The pain from the venom was excruciating, unlike anything the human mind could imagine.

For Tashi Danba's group, the enemy's suffering offered no relief. The horrific cries were unbearable, and the sight of one guerrilla after another emerging from their hiding spots—only to run, scream, flail, and collapse—was deeply unsettling. The bodies, now covered in bees, became grotesque "bee men," as the insects swarmed over every inch of flesh and searched relentlessly for entry points.

Fear overtook any sense of relief at their survival. As the guerrillas fell, Tashi Danba and his companions realized they were next. The only option was to flee.

Summoning a surge of courage, Tashi Danba dove into what had seemed like a dead end: a dense thicket of thorny bushes. Ignoring the sharp branches tearing at his skin, he forced his body through, carving a path with sheer determination. Most of the bees remained preoccupied with the guerrillas, but a smaller contingent broke off, pursuing the fleeing group.

Basang stayed at the rear to cover their escape, but even he was helpless against the relentless insects. He shook his clothes in a futile attempt to ward off the bees, but a sharp sting on his back sent waves of pain coursing through his body. "Ah! Damn it!" he cried out, his usual stoicism shattered. The sight of Basang—a man who could endure bullets without flinching—screaming in agony was unnerving.

The four managed to push through the underbrush. Basang, his face contorted with pain, yelled, "What are you standing there for? Run!" Yue Yang, frozen by the sight of his friend's suffering, hesitated.

Bloodied and disheveled, Tashi Danba turned and flung his shirt at Yue Yang, shouting, "Go! Now!" The shirt struck Yue Yang, jolting him into action. He scrambled to his feet and saw Tashi Danba dragging Basang forward while Zhang Li ran ahead. Basang swatted at the few remaining bees on his torso as they pressed onward.

The bees, seemingly satisfied with their victims among the guerrillas, broke off their pursuit and returned to the forest. Shaken but alive, the four realized they had narrowly escaped death. Basang had been stung once and now endured the agony, while Zhang Li applied snakebite ointment as a desperate remedy. Yue Yang looked at Tashi Danba, unsure of who had thrown the shirt that saved him, when a sharp grinding noise caught his attention. It was the sound of Tashi Danba gritting his teeth.

Turning, Yue Yang saw Tashi Danba's face twitching with pain. "Danba, are you—" Yue Yang began, but Tashi Danba cut him off with a strained smile. "I'm fine. Did they get you? Are you hurt?" Before Yue Yang could respond, Tashi Danba collapsed with a thud. His bare back revealed at least six swollen stings, with three stingers still embedded, wriggling grotesquely.

"Danba!" Yue Yang's shout startled Zhang Li and Basang, but it also drew the attention of another group. Emerging from the jungle was a squad of armed men, about a dozen in total, seemingly drawn by the earlier gunfire. Their leader, a short, stocky man exuding an icy demeanor, sneered, "So, you escaped Basna's trap? Impressive. Don't move. Not a muscle, my friends."

Despair washed over Zhang Li and Yue Yang. Tashi Danba was unconscious, Basang was writhing in pain, and their weapons were out of ammunition. Surrounded by a dozen well-armed guerrillas, escape seemed impossible.

High above, hidden among the treetops, Sories observed the scene. Smirking, he murmured, "Ah, so the jungle's true masters have arrived. Time for me to make myself scarce. This isn't Putumayo, after all." With a flicker of movement, he vanished into the shadows, leaving the group to face their grim fate.