Chapter Text
The harsh buzz of the cicadas was muffled inside the phone box. Their chorus had begun to slowly diminish as the Summer had worn on but, in some places, they still held a strong presence. Outside of the run-down petrol station was one such location and it was wearing on the man currently squinting at a piece of paper with a scrawled number on it. He had already given three attempts calling it and he was about to call it quits. Leaning his shoulder against the glass and tapping his foot against the floor, he scanned over the last digit and decided that it might be an eight rather than a zero. Dragging the dial around, he settled the handset in the crook of his neck with the receiver up against his ear. He needed his hands free to tug out a worn leather journal and the stub of lead pencil from the satchel at his hip.
“C’mon” He muttered as he finally rolled the dial over from the eight and sighed in relief as it actually rang. After a moment there was a click and then a voice he was well acquainted with chimed in.
“Bit late aren’t you mate?” It chided mockingly and he rolled his eyes.
“Maybe if your handwriting didn’t look like a drunken galah dragged its feet ‘cross the paper I might’ve called sooner ya cunt.” There was no real irritation in his voice and instead he snorted as he heard laughter on the other end of the line. “Anyways, took care of that pack of dogs. Weren’t too hard to catch spite of all the wailing about how vicious they were. Got anything more exciting for me?” As he asked, he absently crossed out the top line on the page he had opened to.
“You want something real excitin’ you’d be taking me up on my contracts again.” It was incredible how one statement could deal such a blow to his mood, and he could feel his left eye twitch. Before he could reply however, they continued. “I know, I know. ‘Not interested’.” Their voice dropped lower on those two words, clearly imitating his usual tenor. “I can almost see that vein in your temple bulgin’. Yeah, fine, something just involving a bit of pest control.” There was a sound of rustling papers. “How d’you feel about big snakes?”
That caused him to raise a brow, ire momentarily forgotten. Usually, the animals were not so ill defined. People would call requests into the company and most of the time they knew exactly what they wanted to be rid of. “Are we talkin’ a scrub python?” He had dealt with those before. They could be difficult to handle but were not all that hard to track down.
“They don’t know. They’ve lost six calves on their ranch to it over the season apparently. Last one they found the body and it had definitely been constricted.”
He scratched behind an ear with the pencil stub. The last one made sense, but if they hadn’t even found remains of the others it might end up with the wrong target being blamed. “They sure it was all from the same thing? Six calves in half a year could have-“
“Month.” He dropped the pencil, blinking as it fell to the floor of the phone box.
“Say again?” He shifted, trying to nudge the stub on the floor with his foot up the glass panel next to him enough so he could grab it without fully bending over.
“It’s the sixth calf they have lost this month. Ah, looks like they say they have seen tracks they think belongs to it as well.” There was a pause before a soft chuckle came down the line. “I’ll take the silence to mean you’re interested.”
“Yeah. Might as well look into it.” He replied, keeping his tone as neutral as possible while his thoughts raced. “Where was this happening? Probably up in North Queensland yeah?” Once he had gotten confirmation and written the address of the ranch he had hung up the phone with a muttered farewell. Glancing out at his van still parked in front of the petrol station, he scratched the side of his neck. It would be a bit of a drive, but behavior that odd was something he couldn’t resist. Pythons had no need to eat more than a whole calf a week even at their biggest sizes. A nest might have been possible, but they were also territorial and snakelets rarely stuck around their parents.
“Abandoned pets maybe?” He said to himself as he exited the phone box. “Nah who’s dumping more than one python up there.” Shaking his head, he decided he would ponder on it more during the drive. After stashing his journal, he made his way back to his van and hopped in. Fingers drummed along the steering wheel while he dug his maps out of the glove compartment and began to plan his route. It looked like it would take him nearly three days, two if he pushed it. He clicked his tongue softly before turning his key in the ignition. It wouldn’t be his first all-nighter.
Two days later, he found himself standing in front of a wide field with a few cows grazing here and there. Rather than any person being there to meet him, he found a note stapled to the gate. The paper was torn and looked as though it had been rained on. The rancher must have put it there once he was told someone was taking on his problem. While he might have had his gripes with the company, they often made it so he rarely had to talk with the clients. Leaning in to peer at the now faded words, he lowered his sunglasses to see it without a tint.
‘ Hunter. Was told you’d be arriving out here shortly. I work most days and most likely won’t be able to meet you. The tracks should still be there about 300 meters straight ahead in the field. Think even the rain won’t get rid of them for a month or more with their size. Pull off this note and I’ll know you’re here next time I come down. If you need to use the phone you can drop by the house up the road.’
“With their size?” He mouthed the words while raising a brow before ripping the note from the gate. Folding it, he tucked it into a pocket before placing a hand on the fence and then hopping over it. The mystery had still eluded him on the drive over. The best he could come up with was that there was likely one large scrub python who had been responsible for the last calf, but some other predator had taken the others. The note had added a new factor though. Even if some irresponsible pet owner had dropped off a reticulated python in the thick jungle, it shouldn’t leave a trail that was deep enough to not get washed away.
As he passed a cow, it lowed at him and he waved absently at it while continuing forward. They hardly seemed distressed. Odd for a herd that was being hunted by something. If it were a pack of dogs or dingoes or even other neighbors picking off the calves, he would have expected them to be skittish. His brow furrowed. The pieces just weren’t fitting together and he muttered to himself before he finally reached a section of the field where the grass gave way to mud and dirt. There were cow hoofprints all over as was expected, but something a few dozen meters beyond those tracks gave him pause.
For a moment he simply stared. Impacted in the mud was a smooth trail that waved back and forth, looking like a small river or a ribbon. It curved in a wide arc, beginning at the fence and then curving around back to it. Taking in its true enormity, he wandered closer and knelt beside a section of it. The body of whatever had made the indent had pushed down into the mud a good twelve or so centimeters and the width of the track was nearly two meters at its thickest points. He gave a low whistle as he lifted his head to look at where it began at the edge of the fence and then at the tree line just beyond. He could feel his heart rate pick up, a twinge of excitement stirring in his chest.
Standing, he could feel a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. ‘Big snake’ had been a severe understatement. What had crept its way out of the jungle into this lonely pasture had been a monster that he could just barely imagine from the path it had left. The possibility of tracking down a serpent with proportions straight out of a book of myths had him jogging back to his van post-haste to grab what he would need for setting off into that jungle.
Determination was settling into his bones more firmly than when he had first started these jobs of trekking into swamps to wrestle crocs that had been harassing local tourists or luring dingoes away from the edges of the growing suburbs. Wherever the massive reptile laid in hiding in that undergrowth, he would find it.