SERANGAN TIKUS | EPS 8

SERANGAN TIKUS

Malam itu bulan purnama, tapi cahayanya tak cukup menerangi kegelapan yang menyelimuti Dusun Karang. Baran baru saja berganti pos jaga ketika mendengar suara aneh dari arah ladang—seperti gemerisik ribuan dedaunan kering tertiup angin, tapi lebih padat, lebih teratur. Dia mengerutkan dahi, melangkah mendekat. Dan di tepi ladang, dia berhenti. Darahnya membeku. Ladang yang baru selesai digarap itu—ladang yang jadi harapan desa—bergerak. Bukan tanahnya, tapi ribuan makhluk kecil yang merayap, melompat, memanjat. Tikus. Ribuan tikus. Mereka datang bergelombang, membanjiri tanaman jagung dan kacang yang baru seminggu ditanam. Baran berteriak sekencang mungkin, "BANGUN! BANGUN! LADANG DISERANG!"

Dalam hitungan menit, dusun terbangun. Warga berlarian membawa obor, cangkul, apa pun yang bisa digunakan. Tapi saat mereka sampai di ladang, pemandangan mengerikan terbentang. Tanaman yang kemarin masih hijau, kini bolong di sana-sini. Tikus-tikus bergerak dalam kawanan raksasa, tubuh abu-abu kecokelatan memenuhi setiap jengkal tanah. Mereka tak takut api, tak takut teriakan. Mereka terus memakan, menghancurkan. Kusno berlutut di pinggir ladang, matanya berkaca-kaca. "Tanamanku... tanamanku..." Karto mencoba mengusir tikus dengan cangkul, tapi satu tikus melompat ke tangannya, menggigit jarinya hingga berdarah. Dia menjerit kesakitan, tapi tak ada yang bisa membantunya—semua sibuk dengan kawanan yang terus berdatangan.

Di tengah kekacauan, Darman berlari ke ladang dengan kapak di tangan. Matanya merah, wajahnya penuh amarah. Dia melihat tikus-tikus itu seperti musuh pribadi. Dan di sampingnya, seorang pengungsi—Slamet—berlari dengan kaki pincang, membawa obor. Mereka bertempur bahu-membahu tanpa peduli asal-usul. Tapi tikus-tikus itu terlalu banyak. Setiap kali satu kelompok diusir, kelompok lain datang dari arah berbeda. Baran berteriak mengatur strategi, "Buat lingkaran! Lindungi bagian tengah! Itu tanaman paling muda!" Tapi suaranya nyaris tenggelam oleh gemerisik ribuan cakar dan gigi yang menggerogoti masa depan desa.

Laras berlari ke ladang, tidak membawa senjata tapi membawa kain basah. Dia melihat seorang lelaki pengungsi—Karto—tergeletak di pinggir ladang, wajahnya membiru. Jari tangannya bengkak, bekas gigitan tikus. Laras segera membalut lukanya, tapi napas Karto mulai tersengal-sengal. "Tikus... berbisa," bisiknya sebelum pingsan. Laras berteriak memanggil Nini. Tapi Nini sedang sibuk di tempat lain. Joko datang, membawa ramuan darurat, tapi saat dia menunduk memeriksa Karto, dia menggeleng. "Terlambat. Bisanya sudah menyebar." Karto meninggal di pangkuan Laras, matanya terbuka, memandang langit malam yang tak peduli.

Di sisi lain ladang, Darman bertempur dengan sisa tenaganya. Dia berhasil membunuh puluhan tikus, tapi satu tikus berbisa melompat dari belakang, menggigit betisnya. Darman terjatuh, berteriak kesakitan. Slamet, yang melihat kejadian itu, segera meraih Darman dan menyeretnya menjauh dari kawanan. "Darman! Darman, bertahan!" Darman memegang kaki yang mulai membengkak, wajahnya pucat. "Biarkan aku... selamatkan ladang..." Slamet menggeleng. "Ladang bisa diperbaiki. Nyawa tidak." Dia memanggil Joko, meminta pertolongan. Tapi Joko datang dengan wajah muram. "Sama seperti Karto. Bisa sudah menyebar." Darman tersenyum getir, menatap Slamet yang berusaha menyembunyikan tangisnya. "Kau... kau selamatkan aku... padahal aku selalu benci kalian..." Slamet memegang tangannya. "Kau temanku, Darman. Asli atau pengungsi, sama saja." Darman menghela napas panjang, dan napas itu tak lagi diikuti helaan berikutnya. Malam itu, dua nyawa melayang. Satu asli, satu pengungsi. Mereka mati berdampingan, di ladang yang sama, melawan musuh yang sama.

Di tengah krisis, Aryan terbangun. Dari jendela rumahnya, dia mendengar teriakan, melihat kerumunan obor di ladang. Tanpa berpikir panjang, dia berlari keluar. Buyung yang ikut menginap malam itu berusaha menahannya, "Aryan, jangan! Berbahaya!" Tapi Aryan tak peduli. Kakinya membawanya ke ladang, ke pinggir kerumunan. Dan saat dia sampai, dia melihat—ribuan tikus masih menyerang. Tanaman yang tersisa tinggal setengah. Warga kelelahan, putus asa. Dan di dadanya, sesuatu meletus. Bukan marah, bukan takut. Tapi... kehangatan. Kehangatan yang membanjiri seluruh tubuhnya, membuat kulitnya terasa kesemutan. Tanpa sadar, dia mengangkat tangannya.

Laras, yang sedang merawat yang terluka, melihat Aryan dari kejauhan. Matanya membelalak. Tangan anaknya... bercahaya. Cahaya redup keemasan, seperti kunang-kunang di malam gelap. Laras berlari, berteriak, "ARYAN!" Tapi sebelum dia sampai, Baran lebih dulu melihat. Ayah Aryan itu langsung memahami bahaya. Dia melompat, meraih Aryan dan menutup matanya dengan telapak tangan. "Jangan, Nak. Jangan sekarang." Aryan meronta. "Tapi Ayah, ladang—" "BIARKAN AYAH YANG URUS!" bentak Baran dengan suara berat. Aryan terkejut, tangannya turun, cahaya itu padam. Baran menggendongnya, membawanya menjauh dari ladang, menjauh dari kerumunan. Laras menyusul, wajahnya pucat pasi. Di balik mereka, pertempuran melawan tikus masih berlangsung. Tapi ancaman yang lebih besar nyaris terungkap.

Di kejauhan, di balik pohon randu, Kirun berdiri mematung. Matanya tak percaya. Dia melihatnya. Anak laki-laki kecil itu—tangannya bercahaya. Cahaya keemasan yang redup, tapi cukup jelas di malam yang gelap. Kirun mengeluarkan buku kecilnya, menulis dengan tangan gemetar: "Anak itu... dia berbeda. Tangannya bercahaya. Mungkin itu dia. Mungkin anak Klan Matahari." Lalu dia menambahkan, "Bara harus tahu." Dia menutup buku, menyimpannya di balik baju. Di wajahnya, senyum tipis mengembang. Misi yang diberikan padanya—menemukan keberadaan keturunan Klan Matahari—kini hampir selesai. Tinggal satu langkah: mengirim kabar.

Di ladang, pertempuran mulai mereda. Nini dan Joko akhirnya datang dengan ramuan pengusir hama yang baru selesai mereka racik—campuran bawang putih, serbuk cabai, dan abu kayu yang dipadukan dengan sihir pengusir. Mereka menaburkannya di sekeliling ladang. Tikus-tikus mulai menjauh, tidak tahan dengan bau menyengat itu. Saat fajar menyingsing, kawanan terakhir menghilang ke dalam hutan. Ladang hening. Yang tersisa hanyalah kehancuran: tiga puluh persen tanaman ludes, sisanya bolong-bolong. Dua mayat terbujur kaku di pinggir ladang: Karto dan Darman. Warga berkumpul di sekitar mereka, diam, tak ada yang berbicara. Slamet berlutut di samping Darman, menangis diam-diam. Kusno memejamkan mata, berdoa menurut keyakinannya. Pak Teguh datang, wajahnya lelah. "Mereka pahlawan," katanya lirih. "Kuburkan mereka bersama, di tempat yang sama. Karena mereka mati bersama."

Pemakaman dilakukan sore harinya. Dua lubang berdampingan, digali oleh warga asli dan pengungsi bersama-sama. Darman, yang dulu paling vokal menolak pengungsi, kini dikubur di samping Karto, pengungsi yang mati menyelamatkannya. Slamet berdiri di tepi kubur, meletakkan setangkai bunga liar di atas pusara Darman. "Dia orang baik pada akhirnya," bisiknya. Ibu-ibu menangis. Anak-anak diam dengan mata sembab. Pak Teguh mengucapkan kata-kata perpisahan yang sederhana: "Mereka mati untuk ladang kita, untuk masa depan kita. Jangan lupakan itu."

Malam harinya, Baran memanggil Nini dan Laras ke rumahnya. Pintu ditutup rapat. Aryan duduk di pojok, wajahnya murung. "Aku hanya ingin membantu," gumamnya. Baran menghela napas. "Kami tahu, Nak. Tapi kau harus lebih hati-hati." Nini menatap Aryan dengan sorot tajam. "Anak ini kekuatannya semakin besar. Cepat atau lambat, tak akan bisa disembunyikan." Laras memegang tangan Aryan. "Lalu kita harus bagaimana?" Nini diam sejenak. "Kita siapkan dia. Kita ajari dia mengendalikan kekuatannya, supaya saat tiba waktunya—saat dia tak bisa lagi bersembunyi—dia siap. Dan kita siap melindunginya."

Di luar, di kegelapan, Kirun berjalan ke pinggir hutan. Dia mengeluarkan burung merpati kecil dari sangkar rahasia, mengikatkan catatan di kakinya. "Untuk Kapten Bara," bisiknya. "Anak Klan Matahari ditemukan." Dia melepas burung itu. Merpati terbang tinggi, menghilang di antara awan. Kirun tersenyum. Misi hampir selesai. Tapi dia tak tahu—di balik jendela rumah Nini, dua mata mengawasinya. Mbok Ranti mengamati dari kejauhan, wajahnya tegang. Lalu dia berjalan cepat ke rumah Baran. "Nini, Baran... ada yang harus kalian lihat." Malam itu, Dusun Karang tak hanya berkabung. Mereka juga bersiap. Karena badai sesungguhnya belum datang. Dan di dalam rumahnya, Aryan tidur dengan mimpi buruk—api, teriakan, dan matahari terbakar—tapi kali ini, ada wajah baru dalam mimpinya: seorang lelaki dengan luka bakar di wajah, tertawa kejam. "Aku datang untukmu, anak matahari."

THE RAT ATTACK (English Version)

That night, the moon was full, but its light wasn't enough to pierce the darkness enveloping Dusun Karang. Baran had just changed guard posts when he heard a strange sound from the fields—like the rustling of thousands of dry leaves in the wind, but denser, more organized. He frowned, stepping closer. And at the field's edge, he stopped. His blood froze. The newly cultivated field—the field that was the village's hope—was moving. Not the soil, but thousands of small creatures crawling, leaping, climbing. Rats. Thousands of rats. They came in waves, flooding the corn and bean plants barely a week old. Baran screamed as loud as he could, "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! THE FIELDS ARE UNDER ATTACK!"

Within minutes, the hamlet awoke. Villagers ran carrying torches, hoes, anything they could use. But when they reached the fields, a horrifying sight unfolded. The plants that were still green yesterday were now riddled with holes. The rats moved in massive swarms, their gray-brown bodies covering every inch of soil. They weren't afraid of fire, weren't afraid of shouts. They just kept eating, destroying. Kusno knelt at the field's edge, eyes glistening. "My plants... my plants..." Karto tried driving rats away with his hoe, but one rat leaped onto his hand, biting his finger until it bled. He screamed in pain, but no one could help him—everyone was busy with the endless swarm.

In the midst of chaos, Darman ran to the field with an axe in his hand. His eyes were red, his face full of rage. He saw those rats as personal enemies. And beside him, a refugee—Slamet—ran with his limp, carrying a torch. They fought shoulder to shoulder, caring nothing about origins. But the rats were too many. Every time one group was driven off, another came from a different direction. Baran shouted strategies, "Form a circle! Protect the center! Those are the youngest plants!" But his voice was nearly drowned by the rustling of thousands of claws and teeth gnawing at the village's future.

Laras ran to the field, carrying not weapons but wet cloth. She saw a refugee man—Karto—lying at the field's edge, his face turning blue. His finger was swollen from a rat bite. Laras quickly bandaged the wound, but Karto's breathing grew labored. "Venomous... rat," he whispered before fainting. Laras screamed for Nini. But Nini was busy elsewhere. Joko came, bringing emergency medicine, but when he bent to examine Karto, he shook his head. "Too late. The venom has spread." Karto died in Laras's arms, his eyes open, staring at the uncaring night sky.

On the other side of the field, Darman fought with his remaining strength. He'd killed dozens of rats, but one venomous rat leaped from behind, biting his calf. Darman fell, screaming in pain. Slamet, seeing what happened, grabbed Darman and dragged him away from the swarm. "Darman! Darman, hold on!" Darman clutched his swelling leg, face pale. "Leave me... save the field..." Slamet shook his head. "Fields can be replanted. Lives can't." He called Joko, begging for help. But Joko arrived with a grim face. "Same as Karto. Venom has spread." Darman smiled bitterly, looking at Slamet who tried to hide his tears. "You... you saved me... even though I always hated you people..." Slamet held his hand. "You're my friend, Darman. Native or refugee, it's the same." Darman took a long breath, and that breath wasn't followed by another. That night, two lives were lost. One native, one refugee. They died side by side, in the same field, fighting the same enemy.

In the midst of crisis, Aryan woke up. From his window, he heard shouts, saw clusters of torches at the fields. Without thinking, he ran outside. Buyung, who was staying over, tried to stop him, "Aryan, don't! It's dangerous!" But Aryan didn't care. His feet carried him to the fields, to the edge of the crowd. And when he arrived, he saw—thousands of rats still attacking. The remaining plants were barely half. Villagers were exhausted, desperate. And in his chest, something exploded. Not anger, not fear. But... warmth. Warmth flooding his entire body, making his skin tingle. Without realizing it, he raised his hand.

Laras, tending the wounded, saw Aryan in the distance. Her eyes widened. Her son's hand... was glowing. A faint golden light, like fireflies in the dark night. Laras ran, screaming, "ARYAN!" But before she reached him, Baran saw first. Aryan's father immediately understood the danger. He leaped, grabbed Aryan and covered his eyes with his palm. "Don't, son. Not now." Aryan struggled. "But Dad, the field—" "LET DAD HANDLE IT!" Baran shouted heavily. Aryan was startled, his hand dropped, the light faded. Baran carried him, taking him away from the fields, away from the crowd. Laras followed, her face pale. Behind them, the battle against rats continued. But a greater threat had nearly been exposed.

In the distance, behind the kapok tree, Kirun stood frozen. His eyes couldn't believe what they saw. That little boy—his hand glowed. Faint golden light, but clear enough in the dark night. Kirun pulled out his small book, writing with trembling hand: "That child... he's different. His hand glowed. Maybe that's him. Maybe the Sun Clan child." Then he added, "Bara must know." He closed the book, hid it in his clothes. On his face, a faint smile spread. The mission given to him—finding the Sun Clan descendant—was nearly complete. Just one step left: sending word.

At the fields, the battle began to subside. Nini and Joko finally arrived with freshly mixed pest repellent—a blend of garlic, chili powder, and wood ash combined with repelling magic. They scattered it around the fields. The rats began retreating, unable to bear the pungent smell. As dawn broke, the last swarm disappeared into the forest. The fields fell silent. What remained was destruction: thirty percent of crops destroyed, the rest riddled with damage. Two bodies lay stiff at the field's edge: Karto and Darman. Villagers gathered around them, silent, no one speaking. Slamet knelt beside Darman, crying quietly. Kusno closed his eyes, praying according to his beliefs. Pak Teguh arrived, his face weary. "They're heroes," he said softly. "Bury them together, in the same place. Because they died together."

The funeral was held that afternoon. Two adjacent graves, dug by natives and refugees together. Darman, once the loudest voice rejecting refugees, was buried beside Karto, the refugee who died saving him. Slamet stood at the grave's edge, placing a wildflower on Darman's tomb. "He was a good man in the end," he whispered. Mothers cried. Children stood silently with swollen eyes. Pak Teguh spoke simple farewell words: "They died for our fields, for our future. Don't forget that."

That night, Baran called Nini and Laras to his house. The door was closed tight. Aryan sat in the corner, his face gloomy. "I just wanted to help," he murmured. Baran sighed. "We know, son. But you have to be more careful." Nini looked at Aryan with sharp eyes. "This child's power is growing. Sooner or later, it can't be hidden." Laras held Aryan's hand. "Then what should we do?" Nini paused briefly. "We prepare him. We teach him to control his power, so when the time comes—when he can no longer hide—he's ready. And we're ready to protect him."

Outside, in the darkness, Kirun walked to the forest edge. He took a small pigeon from a secret cage, tied a note to its leg. "For Captain Bara," he whispered. "Sun Clan child found." He released the bird. The pigeon flew high, disappearing among the clouds. Kirun smiled. Mission nearly complete. But he didn't know—behind Nini's window, two eyes watched him. Mbok Ranti observed from a distance, her face tense. Then she walked quickly to Baran's house. "Nini, Baran... there's something you need to see." That night, Dusun Karang didn't just mourn. They also prepared. Because the real storm hadn't arrived yet. And inside his house, Aryan slept with nightmares—fire, screams, and a burning sun—but this time, there was a new face in his dream: a man with burn scars on his face, laughing cruelly. "I'm coming for you, sun child."

Terima kasih sudah mampir! Jika kamu menikmati konten ini dan ingin menunjukkan dukunganmu, bagaimana kalau mentraktirku secangkir kopi? 😊 Ini adalah gestur kecil yang sangat membantu untuk menjaga semangatku agar terus membuat konten-konten keren. Tidak ada paksaan, tapi secangkir kopi darimu pasti akan membuat hariku jadi sedikit lebih cerah. ☕️

☕ Buy Me Coffee

Share :