Out of Time 

When the island shrunk to only the size of a penny, I knew that we were out of time. How can the two of us possibly survive this predicament?

The truth, harsh and honest, is that we can’t. 

But a little optimism never hurt anybody. So I tell her that we will be okay, that we will get through this in the end. I think she wants to believe me; hell, I want to believe me. Yet, our burden as workers means that we see things for how they are. And how they are in this instance - well, it’s not particularly inspiring. 

The rain continues to fall. Each droplet teasing us as it splashes into the surrounding ocean, raising the water level just a little more. With each lap-lap of the sea on the shore I watch death grow ever closer to our huddled feet. 

I know what you’re thinking: why would I begin my story at my moment of death? Distraction is the answer.

But now that you're here, I suppose I should craft you something interesting. Today's tale shall start a few hours ago in the brilliant sunshine.

Will you listen? Please? It would be my dying wish, to not have dying on my mind. Distraction. We are out of time...

At midday, a group of worker scouts reported a giants’ gathering in the Green Plain. It was cheerful news when the giants were described as ‘Stealers’. Stealers not because they took anything, but rather because they were so easy to take from. 

Distraction. It makes many things possible. 

So, shortly after the sun had peaked in the sky, my squadron marched out on our conquest. I was grateful to be surrounded by so many sisters, all of us sharing the same purpose, goals, and beliefs. 

The Stealers would have been hard to miss. So many of them, all towering above the vibrant stalks of the Green Plain. The size differential between ourselves and the giants means that, while we can spot them from a long way off, they rarely see us. This makes for unfortunate deaths on our end if we’re not careful - usually due to their careless stepping.

We wound our way efficiently through the pasture, careful to stay a good distance away from our targets, before arriving at a rise. This rise was always visited by the squadron at the beginning of a Green Plain conquest as it acted as a useful vantage point from which we could scrutinise the battlefield. 

I counted twenty giants in all, half of whom were children. Seeing the youths sent a shiver through our camp. While a fully grown giant may step on us accidentally, the children were unpredictable and capable of inflicting nightmarish, torturous pain. 

I recalled the worst of the incidents. A worker team of five, myself included, had been on a time sensitive mission. The scent of rain was in the air meaning we had to make it home before the weather left us stranded. 

One of the Stealers - a child - had spotted us on the return journey. I’ve often heard talk of a ‘fight-flight’ response. That survival mechanism is rendered obsolete when giants are involved. We cannot fight a giant, and there is no hope of outrunning them, not when a singular step from them eclipses our own a hundred-fold. 

The child knelt down and crushed a sister beneath their knee. Then their filthy, fleshy hand had reached out, pink liquid oozing a sickly, enticing scent drip-dripping from the unsightly digits.

The worker next to me was trapped in this sticky flesh coating. They screamed as they were raised into the air while I remained frozen in horror as their limbs thumped to the ground, the child plucking them off individually to the sound of their own tune. A song underscored by the screams of a dying sister.

With the child occupied, my trio managed to rush home before the rain arrived. Physically we remained in one piece, but mentally we were scarred. 

The ensuing deluge barred us from recovering the broken bodies of our sisters; and when we finally did search, they were nowhere to be found. 

That was why a ripple of anxiety gushed through my squadron when we saw the ten children meandering about the Green Plain. 

I wouldn’t have blamed anybody for turning back at that point - I certainly wanted to. But one glance at the goal - an abundance of red, blue, green, and gold treasures laid out neatly across the giants’ table - and all thoughts of abandonment were immediately dismissed. 

The table was a cornucopia. Even if we only captured a quarter of it, the entire colony would be set for at least a week. Turning it down wasn’t an option. 

We began the march. 

The Stealers gave us no trouble on our cautious, round-about route. When we reached the orange gravel river, we made a beeline for the objective. 

The table lived underneath an expansive metal roof that protected the Stealers and their wealth from the weather. Fortunately, all of the giants, bar an old lady who rested on a bench to our right, were enjoying the sunshine rather than guarding their riches. 

In single file we climbed the wooden table legs and immediately got to work. The loot was passed along the worker chain until delegates at the bottom were able to begin the long haul back to base. I was situated two workers from the edge of the tabletop. 

After a time we had already ferried more than enough valuables, but our squadron, myself included, became greedy. Before us laid more treasure than any of us had ever seen.

An alluring sight.

It was this greed that sealed many of our fates.

Distracted, (there that word is again), we didn’t pick up the telling scent until it was too late. It was the sound that came first, a soothingly light drumming which quickly transformed into a thunderous rampage. 

The tin roof that protected us from the wrath of nature shook and shuddered underneath the downpour. Thudthudthudthudthud. It rattled my skeleton. 

All nineteen other Stealers came rushing into the haven in a wild stampede of laughter, squealing, and the slapping of stamping feet. 

There was mass panic within the squadron at their arrival; sister workers ran every which way, completely forgetting their training. 

I was halfway over the side of the tabletop when true hell broke loose.

“Mum!” shouted one of the female children. “Look!” 

A flurry of soaked blonde hair and two bulbous blue eyes stared down at the rest of us still on the table. 

The summoned adult walked over, realised what the child was gesturing to, and screamed. 

I was immediately over the edge of the table, knowing that the scream meant nothing good. The table quaked and throbbed as I sprinted towards the floor. Each quake, I knew, marked the death of a sister. Still, I ran onwards because there was no helping them now. 

The cool firmness of the horizontal plane greeted my feet as I departed the table leg. At the bottom there was a solitary worker waiting for me.

“Where are the others?” I asked.

She didn’t know. I could sense the bubbling stress inside of her, but knew that only sanity and a rational head would prevail in these circumstances. 

I glanced around until I spotted a black body disappearing inside of one of the alcove’s wooden pillars. 

“This way!” I told her.

Behind us a giant, the old lady I presumed, shrieked. “Don’t let them near the cake! I spent all of yesterday making that!”

Turning, I noticed that the worker who had met me at the table’s base had not moved from her position. 

“Come on!” I called back to her.

“What if there are more sisters coming?”

Another flurry of terrifying quakes shook the table. 

With a gulp I realised, “There aren’t any more coming. It’s just us.”

Understanding of the quakes’ source suddenly dawned on her. This time she followed me. 

But before we could make it to safety, our path was blocked by the dripping shoe of the same blonde child as earlier.

“There’s two here mum,” she said. 

Immediately, I deviated from our path, instead charging towards the snaking gravel river.

“We can’t go out there!” said my sister.

“We don’t have a choice.”

The pair of us scrambled past the girl’s toe, half expecting it to raise into the air and crush us. Instead, we lived a little longer.

  “Just kill them,” a voice replied to the child. 

“No!” she exclaimed. “I don’t want to kill them.”

Silently, I thanked her for her mercy. We would need a lot more of it if we were to survive. 

Suddenly, the overhead protection disappeared and we were out in the open. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

We scurried through the weighed down stalks until the gravel river stretched out before us. 

“There might be a ravine entrance to hide in out there,” I said.

Crossing the green-brown threshold was our mistake.

We didn’t make it far at all before our path was blocked by an actual river. A raging rapid formed by the rain and impossible to traverse. We tried to turn back. Failed. Behind us was a similar flood. The two torrents constricted around us in a ring and pulled tighter. 

Luckily, we had stopped on a slight rise in the landscape, which meant the water would have to rise to take us. Hope, it seemed, would be the greatest torture of all.

So now you know our story. How my sister and I arrived in this most unfortunate predicament, almost, but not quite, out of time.

An island will be our grave. 

At least the rain has lightened in the past few minutes. That means that a stray drop may not instantly kill us. But if the downpour doesn’t cease right now, well, we will die anyway. 

I can actually feel the water eating at my toes. There isn’t enough dry land left for both of us to comfortably occupy.

You should go now, there’s no reason for you to have to hear the end to this depressing story. Leave me to die in peace; I don’t need the burden of knowing you witnessed my death weighing on my passing conscience. 

No. 

Wait.

Perhaps the story is not yet finished. It seems that there may be one final twist for you to hear.

The young girl is striding towards the orange gravel river which is no longer gravel but water and as much a river as it is a tomb. 

I’m watching her intently. She seems untroubled by the wet. 

I think she’s seen us. 

Yes, she definitely has. She’s walking right towards our drowning island. 

At least she may put us out of our misery a little faster. 

She bends down so that her face is far too close to our own. 

“Hello tiny ants,” she says. “How did you end up here?”

“Cara!” shouts another giant - her mother, I realise. “Get out of the rain!”

The girl ignores the order.

“Come little ants. I will help you.” And from her back pocket she pulls out a shining silver circle - a coin. 

She holds it out gently towards us. Although I am scared, I sense no ill-intent.

“Get on.” She shakes the coin encouragingly. 

With nothing to lose, I step off of the stone and onto the coin. 

My worker sister copies me. 

“I’m going to put you under this tree,” she tells us before raising her free hand over our heads. “So you don’t get wet.”

After only a moment I feel our platform being lowered. The coin is placed on the earth. 

The girl speaks again, “This is your stop.”

I walk onto dry land. Dry. 

“Where is your home?” she asks. 

“Cara!”

The girl glances nervously over her shoulder. “Sorry ants, I have to go. It was nice to meet you though, maybe we’ll see each other again some time? Oh well, have a good day anyway.”

And with that, I watch as she dashes back across the Green Plain, traversing the expanse in only a few bounding steps. 

I stay frozen for a while, trying to comprehend what just happened. 

Slowly, I realise that the rain has stopped and the sun has started to peer through the blurry grey clouds. 

Do you remember my first words to you? It is an opening statement I would like to amend.

I stretch all six of my legs. I’m shaky, but very much alive. 

Out of time?

I glance at my sister.

Not quite.