I looked up as a flock of parrots noisily made their way to their nests for the night. It was getting dusk, and Mom and Dad had not yet gotten home from their errands in the neighboring town. Around our small house, the jungle was like a dark wall. A shiver ran up my spine. I called to my little sister. We needed to get inside and light the lamps.

Instantly, screams of pain and fright pierced the twilight. I rushed to where Beth had been playing. To my horror, ants, big, black and biting were embedded in her skin. I ripped off her clothes and tugged and pulled at the ants. Tiny pieces of skin were torn off with the ants.

Carrying my baby sister, I ran toward the house. She was crying and swiping at her arms and legs now dotted with bright specks of blood.

"Sissy, it feels like I've been stung by bees! What kind of ant makes you bleed?"

"That kind  . . .  look!" I pointed to the west. As far as we could see, the ground was covered in black swarming mounds, massive and moving. The earth seemed to rise and fall under the horrifying procession of ants. But they were not ordinary ants. Army ants!

Trembling, I held her close, transfixed by the dark mass overtaking the small mango tree orchard. The vegetable garden was already buried under a horrifying blanket of ants. If only our parents were home!

My heart pounded;  thoughts rocketed . . . Can't panic . . . stay calm . . . think! Dad had told us about army ants. They were the jungle's deadliest enemy B Nature's terminator, he said. I shuddered violently. Almost one-third of an inch long with gigantic sword-sharp jaws, they can easily rip and tear apart any living creature unlucky enough to get caught in their path. Humans were no exception. Huge legions, numbering in the billions, would sometimes join together in massive food hunts. When they were through pillaging, they would form smaller groups and disappear back into the jungle. Nothing short of fire would stop them. Horrifying reality hit me. Living in a thatched roof house, fire was not an option. Escape was our only chance at survival. But we had to act fast!

I quickly released all our farm animals. Feathers flew as noisy, frightened chickens darted in and out, making their escape around the small stampede of frightened goats and the hooves of my bolting horse. At least they would be safe, but what about us? It was almost nightfall and we would be at the mercy of the darkness and the ants. The ants were now only about a hundred feet north of the house. I ran with Beth into the house to the first aid box. My mind raced as I got her dressed. We could outrun them if . . . But there was no time left.

The front and sides of the house were already teeming with ants. They poured through cracks and crevices. They tumbled through the windows that we could not get closed in time. They crawled up the walls and invaded the thatching. I swung around, desperately looking for an escape. We would try for the back, cut through the vegetable garden, head for the river and . . . It was too late. The ants were already streaming in from the back. We were trapped inside!

Another ear-piercing scream from Beth shot through me like a bullet. I grabbed her just in time to stop her hysterical flight through the front door into the foot-high throng of ants. I held on firmly as she tried to break free. Almost of its own accord, my hand struck her face, once, twice. The sound of contact brought her out of her hysteria, and she collapsed at my feet, sobbing.