The Clandestine Killer of Sand Hill Road

The sleek, black body slithered imperceptibly through the undergrowth of his long-time territory. His shiny scales glittered as the sun came down through the trees on his journey. He seemed forever to be searching. Day in and day out, he searched for food, searched for enemies, searched for drink, searched for cool, and searched for warmth. Today was no different. Hunger did not drive his movements right now. He simply wanted a cool drink followed by some drowsy time in the sun.

This snake had no name—no one would claim this fully grown snake with his cottony-white mouth as a pet. His entire body served him as a deadly weapon with high-precision accuracy. Small animals hid in terror as they noticed his passing, but most creatures never noticed his clandestine passing. Not a single swimming boy noticed this dangerous new swim mate as he slithered quietly into the water amongst the reeds.

The snake swam now, taking a drink here and there, avoiding the splashing noise. He just wanted to curl up quietly somewhere and bask, letting the sun warm his body that had become a little too cool for comfort. He crawled up the bank and found a nice, large rock close to a long—perfect for a quick hiding place—right next to the water’s edge. He curled up on the rock and allowed the heat to flow into his body.

A little time passed.

The snake saw the pink flesh, even in his drowsy state, with his ever-open eyes. He struck at the enemy invading his space with ferocity as Sam Walker screamed, jumped up, hit his head, and fell, face first, into the water.

At first, all Timothy Duncan could do was stare at the water moccasin that was hissed and threatened him menacingly. Then anger stoked up the fires in his soul. He bent down and picked up a large stone and smashed that snake right in the head.

He turned around to see if Sam was OK. He wasn’t. Sam was floating face down in the water. The other boys had started swimming across to help as soon as they had heard Sam scream, but Timothy knew Sam had no time.

He jumped in and pulled Sam's face out of the water. By then, the other boys had arrived and they helped pull Sam onto the shore. He wasn’t breathing, but his heart was beating. Timothy cleared his mouth and gave Sam rescue breaths as two of the other boys ran the half mile to get help. Thankfully, Sam started breathing again.
But Sam was still in trouble.

He wasn’t conscious and that snake had bit him right on the hand. George found some stout branches and used them with one of our sleeping bags to make an emergency stretcher. Leroy put the snake in one of the grocery sacks the boys had used to bring snacks and bait. Timothy tied his bandanna around Sam’s arm to slow down the poison. None of them really knew what else to do. They carefully put Sam on the stretcher and made their way carefully to the edge of the woods. By the time they got there, an ambulance was waiting.

As the ambulance drove away, Timothy and his friends felt like they could breathe again. They sat down on the old fallen log, all of them feeling the powerful rush of having saved their friend's life.

No one—not a single one of them—mourned he loss of the snake, the clandestine killer of Sand Hill Road.