CHAPTER 3: BUJANG SENANG

The plane cut smoothly through the sky, cruising above an endless stretch of white clouds. It was a two-hour flight to Kuching, Sarawak, but for Ayish, it felt like an entirely new experience. He leaned toward the window, eyes wide with fascination, completely absorbed in the view outside. Every few seconds, he lifted his phone and snapped another picture clouds, sunlight, shadows anything that caught his attention.

Beside him, Khairil sat in the middle seat, fast asleep. His arms were crossed, his head tilted slightly, completely unbothered by the world around him. Ayish, however, was the exact opposite. He shifted, leaned closer to the window, then back again, occasionally whispering to himself in awe. At times, his excitement got the better of him, and he accidentally nudged Khairil, disrupting his sleep.

Khairil stirred slightly, frowning without even opening his eyes. “Quiet…” he muttered under his breath.

Ayish froze for a moment, glancing at him guiltily. But the silence didn’t last long. A few seconds later, another photo. Another small movement. Another interruption.

“Ayish…” Khairil’s voice came again, low and warning this time.

“Okay, okay… last one,” Ayish whispered, though both of them knew it wasn’t true.

Khairil sighed deeply, clearly annoyed, but too tired to argue. He leaned back and forced himself to sleep again, while Ayish continued quietly admiring the sky.

After two hours, the plane finally descended and landed smoothly on the runway. The soft thud and gradual slowdown pulled Khairil out of his sleep, while Ayish immediately straightened up, energized.

“Wait… we’re already here?” Ayish asked, looking around.

Khairil rubbed his face tiredly. “It’s been two hours, bro…”

They unbuckled their seatbelts and followed the other passengers out of the plane. As soon as they stepped into the airport, a wave of warm, humid air greeted them. It felt different from the mainland—heavier, thicker, almost unfamiliar.

Ayish looked around curiously, taking in his surroundings. “So this is Kuching…” he murmured.

They walked side by side through the terminal, but the peaceful moment didn’t last long.

“I’m hungry,” Ayish said casually.

Khairil ignored him and kept walking.

A few steps later, Ayish spoke again. “I’m really hungry.”

Still no response.

Another few steps. “Seriously, I’m starving. My stomach sounds like a broken engine.”

Khairil stopped walking. He closed his eyes for a second, clearly testing his patience.

“Be quiet,” he said flatly.

Ayish grinned, completely unfazed. “Can’t.”

Khairil turned to look at him, irritation written all over his face. The person they were supposed to meet hadn’t arrived yet—no message, no call, nothing. And now he had to deal with this.

He exhaled slowly before clicking his tongue. “Fine. Let’s eat.”

Ayish’s face immediately lit up.

They made their way to a fast food restaurant inside the airport. Bright lights, cold air-conditioning, and the strong smell of fried food filled the space. Ayish stood at the counter like a man who hadn’t eaten in days, scanning the menu with intense focus.

“I want this… and this… make it large… oh, and add another one—”

Khairil pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bro… are you ordering for yourself or a whole family?”

Ayish didn’t even turn around. “Just me.”

A few minutes later, their table was completely filled with food. Burgers, fries, fried chicken, and large drinks. It was almost excessive.

Ayish didn’t waste a single second. He immediately grabbed a burger and took a huge bite, clearly satisfied, as if nothing else in the world mattered at that moment.

Khairil sat across from him, staring in disbelief. For a moment, he said nothing—just watching as Ayish devoured the food like a starved animal.

“…I made a mistake bringing you here,” Khairil muttered quietly.

Ayish, mouth full, simply gave a thumbs up.

————

After finishing their meal, Ayish and Khairil made their way to the pick-up lobby. The atmosphere was calmer there, filled with the sound of rolling luggage and occasional announcements echoing through the space. Ayish leaned against a pillar, still feeling full, while Khairil stood nearby, arms crossed, scanning the area with quiet focus.

Minutes passed.

Then more.

Ayish shifted his weight. “How long more?”

Khairil didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed on the entrance.

Not long after, a man approached them with a steady pace. He looked older, weathered by time, with a serious expression that immediately told them he wasn’t here for small talk.

“Pak Pali?” Khairil asked.

The man nodded.

Without wasting time, they exchanged brief greetings and headed toward the parking area. The air outside was warmer, heavier. Pak Pali opened the trunk of his car, and Khairil placed their bags inside. Ayish followed, still observing everything quietly.

They got into the car.

The engine started.

As they drove out of the airport, silence filled the vehicle for a moment before Khairil spoke.

“You’re late.”

His tone was calm, casual but firm.

Pak Pali kept his eyes on the road. “There was another attack.”

That immediately caught Ayish’s attention.

“What do you mean?” Khairil asked.

Pak Pali exhaled slowly. “Another victim. The crocodile.”

The word hung heavy in the air.

“He survived,” Pak Pali continued, “but barely. He lost his left arm.”

Ayish’s eyes widened in shock. “What…?”

He fell silent right after, the weight of the statement sinking in.

Khairil, on the outside, remained composed. His expression didn’t change much—but inside, something tightened. This wasn’t just another case anymore.

“I thought your people already warned everyone,” Khairil said, his voice slightly sharper now. “No one should be going near the river.”

“We did,” Pak Pali replied. “We told everyone to stay away. Especially at night.”

“Then why was he there?”

Pak Pali’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly.

“He insisted,” he said. “Fishing is the only way he feeds his wife and children. He had no choice.”

Silence filled the car again.

Ayish sat quietly at the back, listening to every word. For once, he didn’t interrupt, didn’t complain, didn’t joke. He simply absorbed the conversation, his earlier excitement completely gone.

Outside the window, Kuching slowly faded into quieter roads.

And the deeper they drove, the heavier the air felt.

———

The car slowed as it turned off the main road and entered a narrow dirt path leading into the village. Tall trees lined both sides, their shadows stretching across the ground as the evening light faded. The deeper they went, the quieter it became. There were houses, but no movement. No voices. No children. It felt as if the entire village had retreated indoors.

Pak Pali parked near a cluster of wooden houses built on slightly raised ground. The air was thick and humid, but there was something else beneath it something uneasy. Ayish stepped out of the car and glanced around, immediately sensing the tension. Most of the houses had their doors shut, windows covered, and not a single person lingered outside.

As they walked along the narrow path, Ayish’s attention was drawn to a large construction signboard standing near the roadside. It looked new and out of place compared to the worn surroundings. He slowed down and studied it briefly before turning to Pak Pali.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Pak Pali followed his gaze. “A new dam project,” he replied.

Pak Pali shook his head as they continued walking. “But we really are against it. If the dam is built, it could flood the upstream areas and reduce the river’s depth here. That means less fish and difficulties for irrigation.”

Ayish nodded slowly but said nothing more. His eyes lingered on the signboard for a moment before he turned away and followed the others.

They soon arrived at a slightly larger wooden house. An elderly man was already waiting outside, standing straight despite his age. There was a quiet authority in his presence.

“I am Tok Badr,” he introduced himself.

Khairil stepped forward politely, followed by Ayish. After a brief exchange of greetings, they were invited inside. The atmosphere quickly shifted from formal to serious.

“You came because of the attacks,” Tok Badr said.

Khairil nodded. “Yes.”

Tok Badr took a slow breath before continuing. “Then you must understand what you are dealing with. The villagers believe it is Bujang Senang.”

The name alone carried weight. Ayish and Khairil exchanged a glance but remained silent as Tok Badr began his story.

According to the villagers, Bujang Senang was no ordinary crocodile. It was described as a massive white creature, far larger than any normal crocodile. However, what made it truly terrifying was its origin. Some believed it was once human. A man who had made a pact with dark forces, transforming into something no longer bound by human limits.

The creature did not behave like a typical predator. It did not hunt randomly. It chose its victims. It appeared without warning, dragging people into the river and leaving no trace behind. Entire communities once lived in fear, never knowing when it would strike again.

Many had tried to hunt it, but most never returned. Those who survived spoke of something unnatural, something that could not be defeated by strength alone. In the end, the villagers turned to rituals and knowledge passed down through generations. Instead of killing it, they managed to drive it away or seal it, depending on the version of the story.

Tok Badr’s voice lowered as he finished. “But things like that do not simply disappear.”

A heavy silence followed his words.

After they left Tok Badr’s house, Pak Pali led them back through the quiet village and offered a place for them to settle down at his house for the night. With no other options and the sky already darkening, Ayish and Khairil agreed.

When they arrived, the house was simple but well-kept. However, it was clear Pak Pali was not planning to stay. He moved quickly, gathering a few documents and keys, his actions hurried but controlled.

Khairil noticed immediately. “Where are you going?” he asked.

Pak Pali paused briefly before answering. “I need to go to the council. I’m asking for help.”

He continued packing as he spoke, his voice steady but weighed down by exhaustion.

“Too many people in this village have suffered already. They can’t go to the river anymore. Fishing was their main source of food. Now they depend only on whatever crops they can grow… and even that isn’t enough.”

He stopped for a moment, gripping the edge of the table.

“Some have already left to stay with relatives. The ones who remain…” he trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “They’re struggling.”

A brief silence filled the room.

“I just hope someone at the council believes me,” Pak Pali added quietly. “For them, crocodile attacks are normal here. Just another incident.”

Ayish and Khairil listened without saying a word. The weight of the situation was heavier now—no longer just a story, but something that was breaking people’s lives.

After a moment, Ayish spoke.

“We’ll make sure this ends,” he said.

His voice was calm—but firm.

Pak Pali looked at him, a faint, tired smile appearing on his face. “I appreciate that. But don’t push yourselves too hard. We do what we can.”

With that, he grabbed his keys and stepped outside. The sound of the jeep engine broke the silence as it started up.

Moments later, the vehicle drove out of the compound, its headlights disappearing into the darkness.

And just like that—

Ayish and Khairil were left alone.

———

As night fell, the village grew even quieter. Lights dimmed one by one, and the already empty paths became completely deserted. It was clear that no one dared to stay outside for long, and more importantly, no one went near the river.

Ayish and Khairil sat outside Pak Pali’s house under a large tree at the edge of the compound. A dim light from inside the house barely reached them, leaving most of their surroundings in shadow. A small tray of tea and snacks sat between them, untouched at first.

Khairil looked around, his expression serious. “You notice something?” he asked.

Ayish nodded. “No one’s outside.”

“They’re scared,” Khairil said quietly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The distant sound of insects filled the silence.

“You think it’s really a crocodile?” Khairil asked after a while.

Ayish took a slow sip of his tea before answering. “Devils can take many forms, especially the ones humans fear the most. For this village, it takes the form of a giant white crocodile.”

Khairil frowned slightly, surprised by the certainty in his voice. “How do you even know that?” Monolog.

“But killing people like this is too much,” Khairil continued, shaking his head.

Ayish lowered his cup and looked at him. “A devil does not kill on its own,” he said calmly. “If it’s killing, it means someone is controlling it. A human. Someone who made a pact.”

Khairil fell silent, processing the idea. “You have a theory?”

Ayish nodded slowly. “I think it’s connected to the dam project. I don’t have proof yet, so I can’t accuse anyone. But something feels wrong.”

Khairil stared at him, disbelief flickering across his face. Just hours ago, Ayish had been complaining about food. Now he was speaking like this.

After a moment, Khairil sighed. “Then we check the construction site first.”

Ayish agreed. “Yes.”

The wind moved softly through the trees, carrying a faint, distant sound from somewhere beyond the darkness. It was subtle but enough to remind them of one thing.

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