Peter by day, Pan by night

Chapter 37

        Something wet and cold nudges my shoulder. I ignore it and curl into a ball. Every bit of me aches.

        Someone bumps my shoulder again. I groan, my mind slowly waking up. An oddly familiar sound floats around me. But it seems out of place.

        I crack open one eye, but don’t see a clock.  I see green. I open my other eye and my mouth falls open.

        A crocodile is staring down at me.

        I try to scream, but nothing comes out. My heart stops beating. My thoughts slink away from me.

        I blink. This is how I am going to die? I survived an explosion and the ocean and now on a forsaken beach a crocodile is going to eat me?

        I groan and shut my eyes. No use trying to run or fight back. I’m flat on my back, water still lapping my legs. Somehow both my boots survived the waves, but not my bag.  Maybe my mother was right…it’s time to stop holding onto things and start holding onto people

        The wet crocodile nose gently pushes my shoulder again.

        “What?” I scowl and peer up at him. “If you aren’t going to eat me, then just leave me alone. I’m exhausted.”

        “If the crocodile was hungry, I’m pretty sure he would choose me. I’m yummier. Time flavors food.” Peter’s voice rolls toward me.

        “No, time rots food.” I smile weakly. He’s alive. I’m alive. And our crocodile friend here is alive and not starving at the moment.

        The lost boys. The pirates.

        My heart falls again. What are we going to do?

        “He saved us.” Peter laughs and rubs his fist across the crocodile’s nose. “Didn’t you, Tick-Tock?”

        I roll my eyes. “How original.”

        Peter pushes the crocodile out of my face and holds out his hand. “Coming?”

        I should get up, but I can’t. The waves have syphoned off all my energy. When I don’t respond, Peter shrugs and lays down beside me. I try to form a sentence-any sentence, but my words jumble together.

        We almost died. We should have died. I glance at the crocodile as it waddles down the beach. I guess Peter Pan has friends in strange, unexpected places.

        “The crocodile? Tick-Tick?” I start, but my voice trails off. It takes too much energy to form words. I sigh and close my eyes. The gritty sand tangles in my wet hair.

        “How did he become ‘Tick-Tock’?” Peter surmises.

        I try to nod, but my head just falls to one side.

        Peter laughs quietly. “Well, the pirates kidnapped him ages ago. I helped him escape. Along the way he accidentally swallowed the alarm clock that one of the crew members threw at him. And somehow the clock still works.”

        I look over at Peter, but the edges of my vision darken. His voice muffles. My eyelashes sweep down, blocking out the bright moon.

        A shiver rubs down my back as the water continues to dampen my boots.

        “Rest, Wendy Darling.” Peter whispers, his words falling softly on my tired ears. His fingers wipe soaked curls from my face.

        How can his skin feel so warm when I am so cold?