On Java Road Novels & Stories

“Please tell me that’s not another storm.” The hum grows louder. A moment later, the first glint of metal appears through the mist—then another, and another. A long line of vehicles winding down the muddy road, sunlight flashing off their roofs. Jack steps forward, disbelief spreading across his face. “What in the name of—”

~ Jeremy’s POV~ There was only one streetlight here on Ravenspire road- One of the most dangerous roads in Los Alamos city. A stretch of hell that cut through jagged cliffs and sharp bends that had claimed men braver than me. Yet, here I was. It was not legal to race here, but of course, the lords were brutal, psychotic even. A part of me hadn’t expected Dante to give us the free will to duel without a ‘but’. But I surely didn’t expect this. -To ride through a deathly road on a deathly bike. Sounded like a call to death.

I asked him suspiciously. He gulped and said in a raspy tired voice “His men discovered another route just outside of Snow. It’s a very steep mountain road between Alcan and Snow. They’re never going to pass through your town. But it’s a very dangerous territory. They have been practicing the route for two days now and one of the cars even flipped over the mountain killing its passenger on impact. But he doesn’t want to wait any longer. He’s afraid your people might discover what he’s on to and stop him. That’s why he sent his best men to do the job”

The road that led to the left was a brick road that was wide, clean, and looked very well-maintained and afore-traversed. Another dirt road that was even more narrow and had snow all over it continued straight. In fact, it was so poorly maintained that Rhina didn’t realize that it was a road in the beginning. It looked like no one had gone up the road to the right in centuries. Rhina was about to head up the left fork when her instincts forced her to stop in her tracks. This left fork looks quite a bit…too well-maintained, doesn’t it? I wonder who it is that cleans this road every day, she wondered.

At this point, they were in the West Java region, although not too far from Andre's apartment in the Jakarta area. The roads appeared deserted, and the day was growing darker. The lingering twilight slowly faded away. The dark sky began to stretch across the horizon. The driver drove the car at a moderate speed, remembering that the danger no longer threatened them. The vehicle smoothly glided to return to their employer's residence. However, before they were completely free from danger, suddenly... SCREECH! Someone rear-ended them. "ARGH!"

JENNA Jim drives like someone who actually respects the road—smooth, steady, confident. Not reckless, not showy. Just… good. The kind of driving that makes you feel safe without thinking about it. And he wasn’t lying. Two blocks later, he pulls into a tiny parking lot beside a fast‑food place with a flickering neon sign and the smell of heaven drifting out the door. Grease. Salt. Real food. My stomach growls so loudly I’m sure he hears it.

Jared's man reported. "Regardless of which route they take, we can't let them get away!" Max bellowed. "Car Number One, the target has entered the mountains in the suburbs of the city. Hurry up and stop him in his tracks!" "Yes, sir," the driver of Car Number One said. Now in the mountainous route, the off-road vehicle careened forward with a sedan following in hot pursuit, its driver disregarding the dangers and damages that such a terrain could cause just to capture Henry's henchman.

“Do you really not know, or are you pretending to be oblivious? This is the East Road, and it’s Zyaire’s territory. Outsiders aren’t allowed to go further than this.” James scratched his nose pensively and said, “Is that so? Well, I’m heading to meet Zyaire. It’s fine to continue driving.” The driver looked at James as if he were a madman and said disdainfully, “Young man, I can tell you’re a Solean. You’re saying you’re here to meet Zyaire? Do you know what kind of person Zyaire is? Do you think he’s the type of person who’d just meet every Tom, Dick and Harry?”

The sun, relentless and unforgiving, beat down on the dusty path leading from the servants’ quarters to the main house. I was ten, and the path was etched into my memory, every pebble, every crack. It was a route I knew intimately, yet one I was rarely allowed to fully explore. My world was largely confined to the small, neat rooms behind the imposing mansion, a world of hushed conversations and the ever-present scent of cleaning products and warm food.

He said, "Everyone is stuck here. If I were to clear a path just for you, others would call it a misuse of power. Daphne, are you just trying to get me in trouble?" My mother was so anxious that she began sweating profusely. She yelled, "This is a matter of life and death! Is this how you police officers do your job?" Half an hour ago, I returned to the day my father collapsed. Still stuck in traffic, I did not ask my husband, Jonathan Reed, who was conducting the traffic, for help. Instead, I forced my way through the stream of cars and turned sharply into a side road with fewer vehicles. I did not even have the time to step on the gas pedal when Francis appeared, blocking my car.