‘Found one!’ I called as I reached down into the murky water and retrieved the golf ball from between my toes.
‘How many’s that?’ Marty asked as he concentrated on what was beneath his feet on the other side of the pond.
I looked into my bucket and made a rough estimate.
‘About twenty, I think.’
Marty returned a thumbs-up. Twenty golf balls was pretty good for half an hour. But we had to rush. The sun had reached the trees at the end of the fairway and soon we wouldn’t be able to see a thing. Then we would go home and wash the balls in the laundry sink before selling them back to the golf club for fifty cents per ball. Easy money. But the only money we ever got.
You see, neither Marty nor I got pocket money. Our families didn’t have a lot of money, so we were always finding creative ways to make our own. And this was one of the best ideas we’d ever had.
Marty and I had been coming to the golf course for about three months. We quickly learned that the swampy water at the bottom of the 8th hole – in which we now stood – was the ‘Jackpot Pond’. We had collected hundreds of golf balls from this spot. And with all the money we’d made from reselling the balls back to the club, Marty and I almost had enough to buy the new drum kit for sale at Top Hill Music. And with the old guitar I got for my last birthday, we’d start a band. Then all we’d need was a name.
‘How about The Lemon Squeezes?’ Marty suggested.
I turned and gave him a sour expression. He got the picture.
‘Yeah, too cheesy,’ Marty admitted.
‘The Muddy Middletoes?’ I said.
We both burst out laughing. We knew it was a daggy name. But then again, most band names are.
Darkness hit the water as the sun continued to drop behind the hills, signalling it was time for us to leave.
‘Righto,’ I announced, looking to the skies. ‘Let’s get these to the laundry.’
We both started to leave the water when I stumbled, and my foot became wedged between two rocks. I tried to wrench it free but the more I tried, the further it sank.
‘I’m stuck!’ I called as I reached down and attempted to pull my leg out. Nothing.
‘Stop playing around,’ Marty yelled from the other side of the pond. ‘It’s almost dark; let’s go.’
I yanked at my foot again but the swampy mud only sucked it down further.
‘I’m serious!’ I screamed. ‘And I think I’m sinking!’
Marty could see the horror on my face. He dropped his bucket of golf balls and ran back to the water.
‘Quickly!’ I screamed in desperation as my knee met the rocks.
Marty began to swim in my direction. His arms thrashed. His legs kicked frantically. He lifted his head to see how far he had left to swim.
And then he stopped. His wide eyes stared at me before slowly moving upwards towards the sky.
‘Don’t stop!’ I called out. ‘I’m still sinking!’
But Marty didn’t move. His gaze was still fixed on the sky. His face twisted in shock.
Then a shadow covered his face. And then his body.
I slowly turned my head around. My jaw dropped. My heart stopped. Standing above me was a giant serpent, rearing at least five metres above the water. Its bright yellow eyes were locked on mine. Its silvery blue body a tessellation of dinner-plate-sized scales. I was frozen in fear. I couldn’t blink. I couldn’t breathe.
And then it slowly lowered itself back into the water and disappeared.
I turned back towards Marty.
‘Wh-where did it go?’ he stammered, surveying the water.
‘I – I don’t know,’ I choked out, searching the pond around me.
Everything was completely silent.
And then I felt the rocks around my knee fall away. A moment later, I was launched out of the water.
I thrashed for something to grab onto as I was lifted into the air, and realised when my fingers touched scales that I was on the back of the serpent’s head.
I was too petrified to make a sound. Before I could believe what was happening, I was being slowly lowered towards the side of the pond. Then I slid from the giant snake’s head and landed on my feet.
I stood there looking at the serpent’s eyes. Something about the way it looked back made me feel calm and relaxed.
With the flick of its lime-green tongue, the creature returned to the water, sliding under the murky surface without making a ripple.
Stunned, Marty stood in the middle of the pond.
‘What just happened?’ he asked, his voice so high-pitched it was almost unrecognisable.
I looked down at my knee. Besides a few small scratches, it was all right.
‘I think it just rescued me.’
Marty started to hurry out of the water but stopped near the edge.
‘Found one.’ He reached down between his toes. Then I saw his expression change. He lifted something from the water. It wasn’t a golf ball.
In Marty’s hand sat something bright green. Covered in black and blue spots. The size of a football. And almost the same shape.
Marty’s eyes met mine. It was like looking into a mirror, our expressions full of shock as we realised what the object must be: a serpent egg.
The silence was broken by a small splash on the other side of the pond. Marty and I took off at lightning speed down the fairway. We couldn’t get away fast enough.
At last we stopped and collapsed to the ground at the golf club entrance. As I caught my breath, I looked over at Marty.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The serpent’s egg was still clutched in his hands. Its colours glowed against his terrified face.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked in disbelief. ‘Why are you still holding that thing?’
‘I – I… ’ he stammered, unable to take his eyes off it. ‘I don’t know. I panicked. The noise. I just ran.’
‘Put it away before someone sees it,’ I demanded.
Marty quickly placed the egg inside the bucket.
I looked up at the clubhouse in the distance.
‘We’ll sort this out tomorrow.’
We both decided overnight that we were retired from fishing for golf balls. And as we waited outside the office of the Top Hill Golf Club manager, Mr Ridgeman, to sell him our last bucket of balls, we decided it was probably a good thing to let him know about the serpent in the pond and the egg inside the backpack Marty was currently wearing. Then he would be able to relocate them both somewhere far from the pond. And once we knew the pond was serpent-free, maybe, just maybe, we would come out of retirement.
‘So you’re trying to tell me there is a monster on my golf course?’ Mr Ridgeman, counting the golf balls, chuckled at what he just heard.
‘Well, I wouldn’t call it a monster,’ I corrected, trying to find the right words.
‘It’s like an anaconda,’ Marty offered.
Mr Ridgeman looked up from the balls.
‘Boys,’ he said, eyeing us both off, ‘does this look like the Amazon rainforest?’
His furrowed eyebrows and tight-lipped scowl suggested he wasn’t amused anymore.
It was no use.
‘You got us,’ I lied. ‘We were just trying to trick you.’
Marty looked over at me and motioned towards the backpack. I returned a quick shake of the head.
Marty looked back at Mr Ridgeman and nodded in agreement.
‘April Fool!’ he called out.
Mr Ridgeman rolled his eyes and continued to count the balls.
‘That’s twenty-four.’ He reached into his top drawer and pulled out a pile of loose change and counted it on the desk. ‘And here’s twelve dollars.’
‘Thanks, Mr Ridgeman.’ I said as I pocketed the money.
‘No problem, boys,’ he said. But his eyes were stern. ‘And let’s not forget it’s November, not April, gentlemen. So it’s probably best to keep your fantasy stories about mythical creatures to yourselves.’
Marty gulped.
‘Yes, Mr Ridgeman,’ we said together.
We didn’t wait for a goodbye. We turned and made our way out of the golf club.
‘Wow.’ Marty looked at the ground as he walked. ‘Mr Ridgeman is a real jerk.’
The sun broke from behind the clouds and I realised I had left my hat in Mr Ridgeman’s office.
‘Wait here, I won’t be a second.’ I jogged back towards the clubhouse.
Walking up the hallway towards Mr Ridgeman’s office, I noticed his door was closed. I leaned in to knock, but I heard him speaking aggressively and waited.
‘Yes, two boys!’ he said. ‘The pond behind the eighth green.’
He was talking about us. He was probably on the phone to my parents, telling them that I was a liar.
‘They found the serpent. And now we know where it is.’
My heart stopped. I couldn’t believe it: Mr Ridgeman knew about the creature. And he’d spoken to us like we were talking nonsense.
‘Round up the team, George,’ he continued from behind the door. ‘Tomorrow morning we’re going hunting.’
I gasped out loud. I tried to push it back in by covering my mouth, but it was too late.
‘Hang on a second, George.’
There was no time. I ran and ducked behind two golf bags. Mr Ridgeman’s head appeared in his doorway. He looked left and right before closing the door again.
I jumped up and ran as fast as I could out of the clubhouse. Marty hadn’t moved. I ran straight past and motioned for him to follow.
‘What’s happening?’ Marty asked as he caught up.
I stopped at the front entrance to the golf course. Marty and I dropped to the ground trying to catch our breath.
‘Was the serpent in the clubhouse?’ Marty asked, trying to make sense of my panicked run.
‘No,’ I replied between breaths. ‘But as of tomorrow there won’t be a serpent.’
Marty looked at me, confused.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Mr Ridgeman and some others are going to kill it.’ I stood and looked at the clubhouse. ‘And I can’t let that happen.’
Marty stood beside me, following my stare towards Top Hill Golf Club. I could sense he felt the same.
It was time the rescued became the rescuer.
‘How are we going to do it?’ Marty asked.
I stood there for a moment before looking at the backpack.
‘I have a plan.’
The sun had barely broken the horizon as I stood on the bank of Jackpot Pond.
‘You think this will work?’ Marty asked, staring at the swampy water from his dad’s office chair.
‘We’ll soon find out.’
I gave Marty a nod and started frantically thrashing the water with my hands. Marty remained silent in the office chair that was roped to my bike on the grass nearby.
‘Help! Help!’ I screamed. I kicked and slapped the surface of the pond, the sound echoing across the golf course. ‘I’m stuck! Help!’
As I continued to flail, I looked back at Marty, his face anxiously searching the water for a sign. Nothing.
‘Come on!’ I screamed at the pond. ‘I know you’re here!’
My arms and legs began to get tired. And with one final slap at the surface, I overbalanced and fell in.
‘It’s no use,’ I called back to Marty. ‘It doesn’t care.’
‘Paddy,’ Marty replied.
‘This was a silly idea,’ I continued, ignoring him. ‘There’s no way we—’
‘Paddy!’ Marty interrupted loudly.
I sat up in the water and followed Marty’s horrified gaze to the pond behind me. And there it was, rising high above the water with its slick scales shimmering against the rising sun. Its head tilted. Its bright yellow eyes locked on my submerged body.
I was spotted. I didn’t have much time. I only had one chance.
I slowly rose to my feet and backed out of the water, my eyes never leaving those of the serpent. Once back on the grass, I blindly reached down and found my bike.
‘Okay, Marty,’ I whispered. ‘On the count of three.’
From the corner of my eye, I could see Marty give a slow nod.
‘One.’ I gently lifted the bike by the handlebars, my eyes still on the serpent’s.
‘Two.’ I slowly backed the bike away from the pond’s edge.
The serpent’s green tongue began to flicker. Its bright yellow eyes blinked.
‘Three!’ I screamed as I jumped on the bike.
I looked across at Marty just in time to see him hold the serpent egg high above his head.
‘C-come get it!’ he spluttered, his body visibly trembling with fear.
I started pedalling as fast as I could down the fairway before feeling the rope pull tight. As I raced forward, I heard an ear-piercing scream. I turned to see Marty holding desperately onto the speeding office chair at the end of the rope. The bright green egg sat firmly between his legs.
And then I saw the serpent. Its body slithering with intent towards Marty. Its tail whipping against the grass. Its eyes narrowed on the egg.
‘Faster, Paddy!’ Marty yelled from behind.
I pushed harder and faster along the fairway. My legs burning. My heart racing. My eyes set on my destination: Two Trees Creek. It was now only a couple of hundred metres ahead. When we reached it, Marty would throw the egg in the water. And the serpent would follow. And it would be free to live in peace.
That was, of course, if it didn’t tear us into pieces first.
‘Paddy!’ Marty screamed.
I turned my head to see the serpent continuing to chase the office chair as it bumped along the golf course. But that wasn’t what caught my attention.
Beyond the snake I saw the glimmer of sunlight on iron golf clubs as a buggy came tearing down the fairway. Behind the wheel was Mr Ridgeman, his face a menacing twist and his eyes set on the serpent. Five other people clung to the side of the cart waving their clubs.
We needed to get it to the creek before it was too late.
I lifted my bottom off the seat and pushed as hard as I could. My legs felt like they were about to catch alight. My knuckles were white as I gripped the handlebars.
The creek was no more than thirty metres ahead.
I glanced back to see the serpent still thrashing towards Marty in the office chair. The golf buggy still tearing up the fairway behind the serpent.
I turned and saw a giant bunker right in front of me. A rise in the turf had hidden it from view until now. I squeezed the brakes as hard as I could, but fell into the pit of sand and came to a sudden stop. I looked up, hearing Marty’s scream grow louder, and watched as the office chair flew off the rise and over the top of the bunker. In mid-air, the rope pulled tight.
I watched in horror as Marty shot out from his chair at the speed of a bullet. He splashed into the creek and out of sight. A moment later, the serpent slithered past me and into the water.
‘Marty!’ I ran as fast as I could towards the bank.
I could hear the screeching brakes of the buggy behind me. The golfers’ faces were now painted with fear.
‘HELP!’ I pleaded, pointing towards the water. ‘My friend, Marty. Help!’ I couldn’t get the words out.
I was about to dive in after Marty but a hand grabbed my shoulder. It was Mr Ridgeman.
‘Stop!’ he yelled, his eyes on the creek. ‘It’s too dangerous.’
I halted and looked out at the water. It was calm. Silent. There was no sign of Marty. No sign of the serpent. Not a ripple on the surface. Marty had disappeared. My friend was gone.
‘Marty!’ I screamed.
I turned towards Mr Ridgeman, who was looking at his fellow golfers in sadness. Then one of the men looked up, his face filled with shock as he pointed. One by one they all followed his gaze.
I turned around. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Rising high out of the water was the serpent. Its shimmering steel-blue body standing strong. Its bright yellow eyes on mine. Its mouth open wide.
And inside its mouth lay Marty. His eyes closed. His body limp.
The serpent moved towards the creek edge. Mr Ridgeman and his golfers took a step backwards. I stood my ground and watched as the serpent slowly lowered Marty to the shore.
Marty didn’t move. His eyes didn’t open.
I watched in shock as the serpent lifted its head above Marty’s. With a flick of its tongue, it licked his face from chin to forehead, leaving a trail of fluorescent green slime.
Almost instantly, Marty started to move. His eyes opened. Marty stared into the serpent’s eyes, but he wasn’t scared. He wasn’t shocked. He smiled.
The rest of us watched as the serpent smiled back, before turning and submerging itself in the creek without leaving a single ripple.
We looked out at the water in awe for what felt like minutes before Marty stood up.
‘Hey, Mr Ridgeman.’ Marty gestured at the creek. ‘You owe my dad a new office chair.’
‘A-one, a-two, a-one, two, three, go!’
Marty smashed the skins of the drums and hit the cymbals like a monkey on a sugar high. I strummed the strings so hard and fast my guitar sounded like Dad’s whipper snipper. We were out of tune. We were out of time. But we didn’t care. We were finally a band playing our first show at Top Hill Golf Club in front of twenty elderly patrons who had already flicked their hearing aids off. I guess they couldn’t handle the rocking sounds of The Serpent Riders.
