“Thank you for a wonderful tour of the farm, Soriano! We really appreciate it and got some great up-close footage of the crocs,” Mr. Savage said enthusiastically, pumping Soriano’s hand up and down in a handshake.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for coming!” Soriano waved at us as we climbed into the vans.

“All right, guys, we are going to stick around Zapata for the rest of the day to see if we can spot some more of these Cuban crocodiles. We won’t film the kids, we just want some good nature shots,” said Mr. Savage.

Mom and Dad nodded in agreement.

“I reserved us a spot in a nearby site close to the water where we can set up for lunch, and then we’ll divide and conquer to find some crocs! Raoul, rev up this van and get us out of here,” Mr. Savage said.

Soon we were bumping down the dirt roads toward the new site. The first thing I noticed when we arrived was that it had netting around its entire perimeter.

“What is this net for?” I asked as we climbed out.

“It’s to keep the Cuban crocs out. It’s not always successful, though,” Feye answered. He speaks! I cheered internally. It was the first time he had spoken to me the whole day. I handed him a sandwich from our backpack. He reached out with his bandaged hand and took it gently.

Feye and I munched on our ham-and-cheese sandwiches, alternating each bite with a salted potato chip. Our parents ate quickly and prepped to go out croc spotting with a camera crew.

“Feye, watch after your sister!” my mom called before climbing into one of the boats.

We both rolled our eyes and even shared a smile. Progress.

One of the smaller boats was pushed up onto the sand, back by a hammock that was tied between two trees near the water. It didn’t take long for Connor to hop into the hammock, full from his lunch and ready for a nap. Our parents were helping load the drone onto their boat and waved at us.

“Be back in twenty minutes, please!” Mr. Savage said in between mouthfuls.

“You got it, boss!” Alice yelled as Mark expertly maneuvered the boat out of the sand and into the mangrove channel.

I grabbed the nearby cooler to see if we had any cold drinks and instead saw raw frozen chicken wings in plastic wrap. “Ew! Mr. Savage, what is chicken doing in the cooler?” I asked, putting the top back on the cooler.

“It’s for dinner! Don’t touch it,” he said, looking down at his phone and hardly paying attention to me.

“A, you looking for water? I’ve got some,” Feye said, now sitting inside the van and waving a small fan in front of his sweaty face. I took the drink from his hand, took a sip, and handed it back.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. But sit outside the van. It’s already hot enough here,” he said. He was also distracted, reading his bird book.

I looked around for a spot to sit and wandered toward Connor. I noticed that the protective netting was missing a section near Connor’s hammock. The old and tattered chunk of netting lay nearby on the sand.

“Not much good that’ll do …” I mumbled. A slight breeze coursed through the campsite and it felt good on my hot skin. Maybe I could make myself useful and put the netting back up.

I tiptoed over the crunchy leaves, trying to come up with a plan to fix the net. I wasn’t staring at the water for too long when what looked like a log suddenly popped up from the depths. I waited for it to float down the channel like the leaves had.

Except it didn’t.

It stayed perfectly still.

And then it blinked at me.

I took a step back. That was no log swimming through the water and heading right toward our sleeping sound producer.

“CONNOR!” I yelled, my hands cupped around my mouth. “Connor! Wake up! There’s a crocodile coming your way!”

Connor raised his head to look at me, then he turned to see the crocodile.

Feye and Mr. Savage ran over to me. We stood back and watched in horror as the crocodile slowly heaved itself out of the water.

“What do we do?” Feye asked, his eyes bulging in shock.

Think, Adrianna! Think! my inner voice said. What can you use to distract the croc?

Food, crocodiles could be distracted by food.

What did crocs eat?

Did we even have any food?

“The chicken!” I shouted. I darted over to the nearby cooler and grabbed some of the frozen raw chicken wings. I ran back over to Mr. Savage. “Distract the crocodile with this!” I said.

“Me?!” Mr. Savage said, eyes darting between the chicken I held in my hands and the crocodile. But he only hesitated for a moment before quickly jogging to the other side of the channel. “Hey! Hey, crocodile! Look what I have!” he yelled, looking directly at the crocodile and waving his arms.

The crocodile stopped walking and looked at Mr. Savage with interest. Mr. Savage dropped the chicken at his feet and raised one wing into the air. “See this? It’s food! Come here!” he yelled, waving the chicken and then throwing it into the channel. The crocodile stared at where the chicken splashed, still unmoving.

“Come on, don’t waste it! Get the chicken!” Mr. Savage yelled again, picking up another piece and throwing it in.

The crocodile suddenly lurched toward Mr. Savage, and I realized that I hadn’t thought this far ahead in my plan …