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“Sunscreen, hat, mosquito repellent,” he rattles off.
“As in I should bring some?”
“As in you should already be wearing some.”
I regard him blankly, having not gotten that far with my thinking.
“Sunscreen on the table near the dock with the snorkeling gear. Should be some mosquito repellent as well. I recommend a hat. Your decision.”
I peel away from the vehicle long enough to follow his advice. The sunscreen is mineral based and has the same consistency as Elmer’s glue. I smear it around best I can, then top myself off with a heavy misting of pungent-smelling bug spray. Given the speed and focus of Ronin’s packing, I opt not to return to my cabin for my hat. I’m too afraid he’ll leave without me.
“I haven’t seen many mosquitoes,” I venture as I return.
“The strong breeze keeps them down near the beach. Where we’re going, however, they’ll be worse.”
“Where are we going?”
“Inland.”
I wait, but apparently that’s all he’s going to offer on the subject. He finishes securing the gear with bungee cords, then climbs behind the wheel. I scamper to catch up.
Just as he lurches the utility task vehicle into drive, I spy Charlie peering at us from a clump of trees ahead. He grins at me as we pass. Then he raises his phone and snaps more photos.
Of our retreating figures? For posterity? I don’t get it. Which only increases my unease as Ronin and I leave the semi-groomed path and crash into the overgrown jungle ahead.
MINUTES AFTER WE leave the base camp, the vegetation becomes thick, thick, and thicker. Tightly packed palms block out the sun, while a dense underlayer of green foliage and tall grasses threatens to swallow up any and all open space. We veer from the white crushed coral onto a narrow muddy road that weaves deeper into the dark undergrowth while the air grows hotter and heavier. If I wasn’t sweating profusely before, I definitely am now.
I can still hear the cries of the seabirds, but the sound is more distant. Clearly, they prefer the beach to this space. I think they have a point.
“Holy shit!”
I’m too caught off guard to bite back the words. Not to mention if this isn’t worthy of the swear jar, nothing is.
We’ve just slid around another muddy turn to discover a positively gigantic crab smack in the middle of the road. Its sapphire-blue body looks as big as an Abrams tank with massive claws four times as scary.
Ronin slows as the crab shows no signs of scuttling away, and in a showdown between hulking crustacean and heavy-duty UTV, it’s unclear which would win.
Far from being dismayed, Ronin finally appears relaxed.
“You’ve never seen a coconut crab?” he asks me.
“That’s the coconut crab? Holy… What does it eat, small children?”
“Mostly other crabs. With a side helping of coconuts, of course.”
I think of flower-loving Crabby and my tiny hermit crab neighbors and am immediately aghast. “That’s terrible! That… that thing is like something straight out of a nightmare. How do hermit crab mommies and daddies tuck their babies into bed at night, knowing there’s those kinds of monsters lurking in the dark?”
“Coconut crabs are actually a type of hermit crab.”
“They’re cannibals as well? Figures!”
“They’re delicious. For many island communities they’re a traditional source of food, given the sweetness of their meat, though hunting is now restricted due to the crabs’ declining numbers.”
“Aren’t you a vegetarian?”
“I’ve lived a life,” he says simply.
I’m still dubious. “How can you take down a creature of that size?”
