JUST A MINOR THREAT

William Falo

              I survived the hectic holiday season with only a few missing packages and minor scrapes

and bumps from falls, but now with the warm weather coming more threats appeared. The route I delivered nobody else wanted, it was a development located far away from anything else including police and ambulances, it was a remote suburbia and the people here stayed in their houses and rarely came out for one reason or another, but they ordered lots of packages. Often, they moved without notice and every street had at least one empty house.

            The summer dangers came in many forms: porch pirates thrived now, insects swarmed which was really dangerous since I was allergic to bees, spiders set up webs big enough to catch me,  dogs barked and growled at me as I approached their houses even though I loved them, and

worst of all the bandits with black masks liked to harass me. I hated the raccoons. They stole my

food if I left the truck’s door opened.

            I complained about it, but all I received was a letter saying Erin was out-smarted by raccoons. It was posted on the bulletin board and everyone laughed at me.

            I drove down the most remote street on my route and saw a man wave a girl into a car. Drugs were common here just like everywhere else and this sure looked like a drug deal. Sex for drugs was a possibility. What could I do? She looked young and he looked shady, but I was not even a resident here. I couldn’t afford it. Since my divorce, I lived in an apartment and needed this job to survive.

            The car drove away and I thought I heard a scream. It might have come from the girl in the car or been my imagination. Before I did anything, a raccoon grabbed the package that I just dropped off. I gritted my teeth.

            “Drop it, you stupid bandit.”

            I ran toward it holding out my dog spray out. The raccoon joined two others and ran toward the woods. The package was from a pet supply company. I lost too many packages to porch pirates and already received a letter of warning even though it wasn’t my fault. I would like to add some men who lost packages did not receive any warnings. Being new, I was in danger of being fired so, I chased the raccoons.

            I turned the corner and one of the horrid creatures threw a chicken bone and hit me in the eye. I turned and it looked like the raccoon was laughing at me. My eye stung and I covered it with my hand.

            “You must have rabies?” I yelled out. It hissed when it slumbered away.

            The package was gone. Another one lost. I went back with a throbbing eye. I made a partial eye patch out of some paper and rubber bands.  I finished the deliveries with my one good eye looking out for the raccoons. The last delivery was for a house on a dead-end street. I didn’t even know anyone lived there, but the car in the driveway was the one I saw the girl get in earlier.

            I walked up to the house looking like a pirate. Near the front door, I glanced into the window with my one good eye. A girl was laying on an air mattress with a syringe beside her. It looked like she wasn’t breathing.

            I called 911. When you lived in the suburbs at the edge of the woods, emergency services are too far away. It would take too long if she was overdosing. The window was open and I pushed in the screen and climbed into the empty room. The girl looked like a lifeless doll, I tried CPR and glanced at an ID next to her. Her name was Emma. She looked like a teenager, despite the scars on her arms from drug use.

             “Emma,” I said over and over, but she remained still. My tears fell down my face, even from my bad eye and I kept doing chest compressions as sirens came closer, then someone opened the back door. I looked up as the man from the car ran out the door with another girl. They headed for the woods.

            The ambulance crew burst in and took over trying to save Emma. I ran out the back door in pursuit of the man. He got a head start, but the girl slowed him down and I gained on him. After a few more minutes, the man dropped the girl, turned around and pointed a gun at me. I froze and saw my sad life fading away. Even though I was lonely and depressed I didn’t want to die. Not yet anyway.

            The man laughed when he looked at me. “Are you a pirate?” The gun gave him confidence.

            “Let the girl and me go. I won’t tell the cops anything.”

            “It’s too late. Emma is dead.”

            “Maybe not.” More sirens came closer.

            His hand shook. If I ran away; he probably would miss, but the girl moaned and that idea faded away.

            “What’s her name?” I pointed at the girl.

            “Hayley.”

            “Let her go.” I stepped forward.

            “No. I’m not afraid of you. You’re just a minor threat. Do you know how many girls I got on drugs and sold to traffickers?”

He steadied his hand and his finger twitched. He was going to kill me. I closed my good eye then heard a rustling sound. When I opened it, a blur jumped on the man as sparks flew out of the gun. I dove to the ground and everything became fuzzy, but I crawled forward and grab Hayley then we stumbled away from the scene while the man wrestled with  raccoons. I heard another shot and a searing pain in my leg knocked me to the ground. I looked back and saw a raccoon holding a gun. It sounds crazy, but I swear the raccoon was holding the gun. They saved me, and yet one of them took the opportunity to shoot me. Raccoons are insane.

            I led Hayley toward the arriving police cars. When I got closer, some of them pulled guns while others stared in shock. I understood why since I limped toward them with a drugged girl while wearing an eye patch and with blood pouring out of my leg. I collapsed to the ground when they reached me.

                                                                                                                 ###

            In the hospital, my eye improved but remained circled with a dark bruise. I looked in the mirror and thought the raccoons somehow made me one of them. I laughed for a minute.

            My leg hurt and was wrapped in thick bandages. Nobody believed that a raccoon shot me. They laughed at the thought of it, but I knew it was true.

            Sadness overcame me when I found out that Emma died from the drug overdose. I couldn’t save her. I cried at random times for the loss of such a young life. I planned to buy Narcan, just in case I ever saw an overdose again, but I hoped that I never would need it. The police arrested the trafficker and explained away the bite wounds on him as from a stray dog despite what we both said about the raccoons. They told me I may have saved lots of future victims of his trafficking scheme. It seemed he lived in foreclosed homes in various suburbs, then got the girls hooked on drugs and sold them to traffickers. He hid in plain sight.

            On my third day in the hospital, Hayley came to visit me with her mother. They hugged me so hard I couldn’t breathe. Despite, many bruises and cuts she looked good.

            “You saved my life,” she said. Her mother nodded.

            “The raccoons helped.” I said.

            They looked at each other and shook their heads. “Pain meds,” the mother whispered.

            I didn’t pursue it. I didn’t want to end up in the psych ward.

            “I’m going to rehab.” She told me as I left. “I’ll call you when I get out.”

She picked up my phone and entered her number and did the same to her phone with my number. They left me with a box of cookies and a big card.

            To my surprise the delivery company kept me, even giving me an award. I got a parking spot closest to the building for a month. The risk your life for preferred parking thought made me laugh. On my first day back on the route, I carried extra supplies. My pockets were filled with cookies, cat treats, and crackers. When I passed the house that Emma died in, I paused beside the crime scene tape that still surrounded it. I couldn’t stop the tears.

I threw the treats out and before long a group of raccoons came out and gobbled them up. We made a truce that day, but they still stole food from me since raccoons can’t help

themselves. I believe they are born to be mischievous.

Now, I always look out for anyone in trouble. Maybe I can save someone in the future before it’s too late. I could be a monster hunter.

            The police never found the gun and I kept expecting to turn a corner and encounter a raccoon pointing it at me. No matter what its intentions are the thought of a raccoon with a gun made me shiver. That would be more than a minor threat.