‘Come on,’ Peter said. ‘I ate your weird egg thing. That was very brave of me.’

‘This is not the same,’ Maggie said. She looked over her shoulder as if the manisaur was about to come for them any time. She had spent the afternoon on lookout duty. Peter guessed the habit had become hard to break.

Peter shrugged. He had caught five small fish of different species, colors and sizes almost like those stolen from a tropical aquarium.

‘I know I won’t like raw fish,’ Maggie said. ‘But you had no idea how nice Moby’s eggs would taste.’

‘All I can say is that sushi, and ceviche, are found in all the good restaurants.’

‘I can’t believe you go to restaurants. You’re teasing.’

‘I love Japanese food.’

‘What?’ Maggie’s face dropped in shock. ‘The Japanese are our enemy. They’re overrunning the Pacific, invading, fighting, and I don’t know what…’

Peter smiled. ‘Yeah, I understand all that World War Two stuff. But we’re all friends now. Japan makes the best cars, electronics, and… lots of great stuff. And their sushi…’

‘This raw fish stuff is Japanese?’

‘Sure is.’ Peter grinned. ‘Though sushi is with rice and soy sauce and wasabi. This is more like sashimi.’

Maggie stared at him. ‘Japanese. Now I really don’t want to eat it.’ The lurid-colored fish that Peter had handed her lay in her hand but he knew she wanted to throw it away.

‘Okay. Give it to me.’ Peter had scraped the scales from the fish with a sharp shell, then sliced through to the back bone. Now he washed it in the sea again, flicked to remove most of the water, and bit. If he was honest with himself he did it partly to prove to Maggie he was not afraid. It made him feel a superior to be more adventurous than her in what he ate. Perhaps that was why he had eaten the weird egg thing — if she could do it so could he.

He chewed on the salty sweet fish. It really was good.

‘You don’t know what you’re missing,’ Peter said.

‘I think I do. That is so gruesome. It’s like you’re a savage.’

Peter stood, then stomped in a circle centered on Maggie like a mad man as he took exaggerated bites from the fish. He circled her once and had started on a second circuit when he realized Maggie’s head had dropped. Her hair fell over her face — far from amusing her, his antics had… He didn’t know.

He tossed the remains of the fish into the bushes and dropped beside her.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…’

Maggie wiped her hands over her face, Peter saw the tears then.

‘Oh Maggs. Don’t cry.’ He felt a pain in the pit of his stomach. And to his horror he felt tears of his own welling up. He stood up, took a step away, embarrassed and almost angry with himself. With a deep breath he sat beside her, and looped his arm across her shoulder.

‘Um… you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want.’

Maggie took a deep breath. ‘It’s not that. Don’t you see. We are savages. No fire, no tools, no water, no food… no real food. We’re less than savages. If this is a dream…’

‘We’re alive. And…’

‘But there’s some alien nightmare creature hunting us. I don’t want to wake up, but I don’t want him to catch us. I almost want to be home again.’

‘Missing school?’

‘No. Not at all. I could stay on this tropical island forever… if it wasn’t for that alien beast after us.’

‘We’ll go to the big island. My boat is there, and water. I got fire… Once. There must be a way we can… stop being savages at least.’

‘But that’s where the aliens… the manisaurs are.’

‘You’re right. But there are more places to hide.’

They were quiet for the space of a few breaths.

Maggie said. ‘It was easy to think this was a dream before I met you. But you’re starting to make it all too real.’

‘Sorry… or you’re welcome.’ Peter laughed. ‘I’m not sure what this is all about but if this is not real then nothing is.’

Maggie fell silent. ‘We should have gone last night. When it was dark. We saw the fire, we knew where they were.’

‘Even that could have been a trick.’

‘Oh, don’t say that. At least leave me some wishful thinking.’ Maggie laughed, and then sobered. ‘You think it can swim?’

‘I don’t know. But they could have followed me into the water that day… The first time.’ Peter said. ‘We have to keep a lookout. Know your enemy…’ Peter said in a mock serious voice.

Maggie ignored him. Maybe to her it sounded like one of his twenty-first century specific quotes.

She turned and walked away, but paused, and seemed to grow taller. She turned back to him. ‘Finish your savage fish meal if you want. But we need the eggs too.’ Then she jogged off towards the green clearing — their hidey-hole.

Peter saw the bravery she had screwed up before his eyes — an almost literal display of backbone. He grinned as a tight warm feeling spread in his chest. He cut up the last fish. It wasn’t sushi, or even sashimi. But it filled him and to chew on something solid satisfied more than the salty custard liquid from the egg.

‘I’ll have an egg for desert. If we’ve time before we get caught.’

Peter had just finished eating the last fish when her heard Maggie’s cry. Fearful she had been captured, he sprinted off and almost bumped into her when she dashed from their secret clearing. Peter hoped the rumble of the waves, and the occasional cry from a sea bird, had hidden her shout.

‘These are the last ones.’ She held two eggs.

‘There had been three…’ Peter dragged her away from the open clearing.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

‘We should have kept them with us,’ Maggie sobbed. ‘A bird-thing got to one. It flew off into the trees when I got here. Look.’

Maggie pointed to Peter’s manta wheel where the eggs had been placed on top. The contents of one egg had spilled over the porous surface now wet with blue goo. Liquid still oozed from the remains of the broken and dripping egg.

Peter picked up the egg and turned the wheel over. The blue had filled all the pores. ‘It’s soaked into it.’ Sparks flashed deep within. The wheel’s appearance had changed from something almost dead and bleached into a living thing.

‘Without more eggs we’ll starve,’ said Maggie. ‘And we’ve not seen Moby for an age.’ She had pulled the up bottom of the T-shirt to hold the last two eggs.

‘I just thought he was off… fishing… or whatever mantas do,’ said Peter.

Maggie squinted against the sun’s glare as it sparkled on the inner lagoon.

‘You eat the last ones,’ Peter said.

‘No.’ She swallowed, then smiled. ‘We share. You take the first sip.’ She took the broken egg from him and ran a finger inside to get what remained.

Peter pinched the skin of an egg. His stomach felt full from the fish… but he had been planning on dessert…

‘We can keep the last one for later,’ said Peter. He bit down and sipped the salty custardy interior. ‘In case I can’t get fish.’

‘I guess it was bound to happen, running out. Sometime. It was just too perfect… wasn’t it?’ said Maggie. She tossed the remains of the broken egg under a bush.

‘Absolutely.’ Peter passed the egg to Maggie. She finished the egg and handed the remains back to him. He ripped open the shell and scooped out the last blue goo, it wicked away into his skin. ‘Weird, blue-glowing, free all-you-can-eat…’

‘Custard pies,’ Maggie said. ‘I guess I’m going to have to get used to being a savage.’

‘Come on. We can’t stay here. The manisaur is going to come to the island soon. No good here, no food, no water…’ Peter led them further along the faint trail back past the beach. Glimpses of Black Spire Island flashed between the spiky screw-pine bushes.

‘No milkman,’ Maggie said, a grim smile on her face.

‘No strange air-breathing-manta-beast-friend.’ Peter grinned back. ‘Come on. It must be late afternoon by now, dark soon. We’ll have our chance to escape. Then we hide.’

As he passed he glanced over at the water pit he had dug. ‘Oh wow.’

Peter dropped to his knees and bent his head. At the bottom of the hole a pool of clear water glinted. He dipped his finger into it and brought it to his mouth.

‘It’s a little salty… I think.’ Peter rubbed his hands over his chest to dry them. ‘Even the egg is salty. It gets everywhere.’ He cupped his hand and let the water pool in it, then raised the small scoop to his mouth and drank.

‘Alright!’ he said.

Startled, Maggie fell back on her bottom with a bump.

‘It’s fresh.’ Peter punched the air. ‘We did it. Just had to let the water seep… No.’ He noticed the beach where they had sat earlier in the day now lapped with waves. ‘The tide came in. If the underground fresh water floats on the sea water, then when the sea comes in with the tide, the water…’

‘It rose in the hole.’ She shouldered Peter aside and dipped her hand in the water and scooped a drink. ‘This is so good. It’s still has a hint of salt, but… It’s seems like an age since I drank.’

‘I know… right. But that manisaur will track us down for sure if we stay here. We have to hide, but we won’t die of thirst now.’

‘Just of hunger.’ Maggie raised her hand to stop his protest but Peter just high-fived her. She looked at him puzzled. ‘Why’d you do that?’

Peter shrugged. Something more that separated them in time.

Maggie shook her head. ‘I will try… to eat your evil Japanese food. This sasemi…’

‘Sashimi.’

‘…sashimi… Just one thing though.’ She stood up and brushed sand from her knees. ‘Can you make sure the fish is not so pretty? It’s like eating goldfish from a bowl.’

‘Deal. And there’s fruit and other food… when we get to Black Spire island. But first we have to escape an angry dinosaur alien.’

Peter went back to where he could see the other island. The manisaur’s outrigger canoe was no longer visible on the beach.

His heart leapt in his chest. Maggie was right. They should have kept a continuous lookout. Then he saw the canoe, the manisaur paddled far off in the seaward lagoon. But it came ever closer as it rose and fell in the bigger waves on the outer coast. Peter guessed the manisaur had circled the island one last time for sign of them before turning towards the next island. Their island. He set off at a run.

‘Maggs.’ Peter slid beside her. ‘The manisaur is coming.’

‘I will not be caught by that alien hunter.’ Maggie stood up brushed the back of her shorts free of sand. ‘Do you think he’ll see our footprints? Where we came out of the sea?’

The pounding of the rollers on the reef roared louder then as a giant wave broke.

‘Maybe — but there’s lots of waves. They might have hidden them. It’s been almost a day.’ Peter began to walk back to where he could see the channel between the islands. ‘We’ve got to see what they are up to.’

‘Shouldn’t we just run in the opposite direction?’

‘Sure we should,’ Peter said even as he moved along the trail. ‘Except we need to know which direction. And there’s that saying — fortune favors the brave.’

‘Not the foolhardy though…’

‘No. But you see the logic?’ Peter grabbed Maggie’s hand and drew her after him. ‘They’re not expecting us. We’re safe as long as we keep our distance, keep quiet, and keep to cover.’

Her lips brushed his ear so close and quiet as she spoke. ‘We could just escape now.’

‘Know your enemy,’ Peter said and nodded forwards to their place under the screw-pines.

The outrigger canoe landed on the beach close to where they hid. The manisaur carried a paddle from the craft.

’As a weapon…’ Maggie said.

‘To stop us taking the canoe,’ said Peter.

‘That’s not a bad idea,’ said Maggie after few moments.

‘Take the canoe? How can we paddle without a paddle?’

‘I have a plan.’ Maggie wagged her eyebrows up and down, but Peter guessed she felt as frightened as him.

Peter pushed the now blue wheel over his back. The eggy goo had dried but the tacky substance now stuck to his skin. He slipped his wetsuit into place, but in the heat he kept the front unzipped. The black material worked to camouflage him in the shadows. Maggie hid well too in the khaki T-Shirt… his T-Shirt… though the red Comsat Angels logo might be a problem.

‘You look like a fish,’ said Maggie her voice low.

Peter blushed. Putting his suit on always made him feel a little like a superhero ready for combat. This time that felt right somehow.

‘A fish with a strange humped back.’

Peter had no time to process that, the manisaur had paused, and now sniffed and swung back and forth as if stretching its senses. How keen were their eyes and hearing? Or maybe they could track like a dog on a scent? How fast could they run?

The alien passed their hiding position, then stopped to study the sand. Peter knew the manisaur had found their trail. Just a matter of time now…

A bird overhead began to cry and circle them. It reminded Peter of a magpie, but even in flight he saw it had the fingers on its wings. The alien bird-thing dived lower as if about to attack them. He shrank back. The bird-thing would attract the manisaur’s attention.

‘We’ve got to get out of here.’ Peter began to slide out from their hiding place. ‘That evil creature is giving away our position.’

Maggie gripped his arm and glared.

Peter nodded his head away from the manisaur. ‘Let’s get going.’

‘Wait,’ Maggie mouthed.

The bird-thing flew off away from them and the manisaur followed. Maggie relaxed her hold on Peter’s arm. She slipped back from under the brush and to the side.

‘Maggie, No! What are you doing?’

She ran over the beach to the canoe and pushed it into the water. Peter ran after her.

‘She has no sense of danger,’ Peter looked for the manisaur, then sprinted across the sand.

‘But there’s still no paddle,’ Peter said as he joined her.

‘Doesn’t matter. The manisaur won’t have a canoe.’

Peter couldn’t stop his laugh. But it didn’t matter, the manisaur had spotted them and now ran along the beach.

Fast.

Peter’s laugh died as he and Maggie pushed the canoe into the water as hard as they could. A wave broke over them and threatened to swamp the canoe. It broke free and Peter fell into the surf as Maggie floated away clinging to the side. Then he stood up, and half swimming, half running, pushed through the waist deep sea as it surged as if to hold him back.

The manisaur came close enough for Peter to hear the hiss of its breath. Peter pushed at the long arm of the outrigger, stumbled, then as the canoe reached deeper water, a wave drove it high in the air. Peter held his breath, but the wave did not break over them. He lost his grip and swam fast until his hands met the canoe again. Then he kicked for all he was worth. It almost seemed he was back learning to swim with a kick board. Except he kicked the canoe through the surf. Another wave broke over his head. Maggie coughed water and gasped for air. Peter did not dare to look back, he just swam and pushed for his life. Maggie’s legs kicked foam in her frenzy to escape.

‘I really hope manisaurs can’t swim,’ Peter muttered under his breath. He ventured a glance over his shoulder then. The manisaur had waded into the water up to its chest, but as a wave broke their hunter stepped back, staggered, and fell into the shallows snorting. Peter thought he heard a shout. Like a curse.

But the warbling bird-like cry was lost in the pounding of the waves breaking on the reef that was now closer than ever.