My name is Ted, and I had an incident occur to me a couple weeks ago. After searching for answers online and finding nothing, I thought I should share my experience, because it’s sure to happen to someone else. Someone needs to get the word out. People need to know they’re not alone…and what to do.
So let me start from the beginning. It was a Friday afternoon in the fall and I was heading home from work early, about a half-hour drive home from the city. You could say I – well, we; my wife and daughter and I – live in the woods, but not in the middle of nowhere. There are other houses around. It just takes ten minutes off the main road and four-wheel drive to get to our house. It’s private, quiet, unlike city life.
So it was around 4pm then, and I was driving home early – I usually get off work around 7pm – and was excited to have an early weekend. Jessica, my daughter, got out of school at 3:30pm and goes to stay at a friend’s place until my wife picks her up on her way home from work, usually around 5pm. So I’d have the house to myself for an hour; a rare miracle. I could watch whatever I wanted on TV, use the bathroom however long I liked, and just enjoy the quiet. Bliss awaited me, so I was probably driving faster than I should’ve been, and was too busy devising ways to spend my time, when a ball of fur darted out in front of my Cherokee.
Had I been more alert I might’ve been able to avoid it, but I didn’t. I ran over a small animal. I slammed on my brakes and pulled the car over, and got out to inspect the damage. Yes, I’m sorry to say I cared more about my car than the poor animal. My wife had hit a deer a couple years back and cost over a thousand dollars in repairs, so that’s what was running through my mind. Fortunately there was no indication I’d hit anything, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I looked back to see a raccoon in the middle of the road.
I was unsure of what to do at this point; I’d never hit anything before. I know most people just keep driving, leaving the animal where it lay. Maybe I should’ve done that too. Who knows, things might’ve worked out differently. But I felt I should do something. Maybe drag it over to the ditch at least? So grabbed a pair of gloves from my trunk and walked back to it.
As I approached the raccoon, I began to think it was still breathing. The closer I got the more certain of it I was; its chest was slowly rising and falling. Dear God the poor creature was still alive! My car’s tire had flattened it right in the middle, and one of its legs was obviously broken, but it was breathing. Lying in a small puddle of blood with tire marks all over it, this raccoon struggled to live. And I was even more torn.
Surely it was suffering. So…do I kill it? I’d already done enough, I know that, but should I put it out of its misery? And how? Step on its neck and crush it? Run over it with the car again? I couldn’t just leave it. I glanced up and down the road, as if someone else driving by might be able to help. But the road was empty. Skipping out of work early had meant I’d beaten the traffic. Now, all the time I gained was being wasted over a dying raccoon.
I decided to at least move it off the road. So I bent down, about to grab it, and its paw twitched. I paused, not sure what that meant, if anything. Then I watched, startled, as the raccoon slowly rolled itself over. I stood up and took a step back, marveling. Maybe it was going to live after all. It took a wobbly, lumbering shuffle towards me, then collapsed. I moved to the side as it once again stood on its three remaining legs, and turned to stumble towards me. It collapsed again. The poor thing was confused, in shock. I wanted to help it but didn’t know what to do. What was the protocol for this kind of situation?
It didn’t get up a third time, but began crawling towards me, dragging its back legs. Understanding that it was following me, I backed over to the ditch, hoping it would get the idea, see the forest, and wander off. But it didn’t. As I left the ditch, it kept following me. It was heartbreaking. Maybe it just wanted some comfort in its last remaining moments. So I bent down to pick it up, and it bit my thumb.
It wasn’t with a lot of force, and I’d had the gloves still on, so no damage done, but it was still odd. And it kept trying to bite me as I held onto it, like it was defending itself. It was when its teeth grazed my chin that I chucked it into the ditch. I didn’t mean to throw it so hard but I was a little scared.
The ditch dipped down out of sight, and I could hear the raccoon scurrying through leaves and brush, so I went over to look, and was surprised to see it crawling back up to the road. After a minute it reached my feet and began climbing up my pants, nipping at the fabric. I shook the shock out of my head and tried to shake the raccoon off, but it had a good grip. So I yanked the little vermin off with my hands and threw it forcefully down the road. It landed roughly and rolled to a stop.
I didn’t feel bad anymore. Actually, the only thing I felt at that moment was confusion. Then, to my horror, the raccoon turned around and began crawling back towards me. Despite not using its back legs it was moving quickly.
Fuck this I thought, and walked quickly back to my car. No wonder no one gets out to help anymore. I ripped my gloves off and threw them back in the trunk, then got behind the wheel and closed the door, all the while wondering what the hell was going on. It’s like some creepy shit you see in movies. In my sideview mirror I could still see the raccoon crawling closer and closer. I started the car and continued driving home.
When I got home, instead of relaxing and watching TV like I’d planned, I hit the shower. I felt dirty somehow. I tried to rationalize what had happened, and the solution hit me: the raccoon was rabid. It was so obvious I almost laughed. Creepy sure, but nothing otherworldly. I went to my computer to begin looking up rabid animal facts and whatnot, just to help further settle my nerves, when it occurred to me that I should call someone about it. Rabies spreads and infects, right? Even if the raccoon died, other animals would eat it.
I got out the phonebook and found a number for animal control. After enough rings for me to normally give up a gruff male voice answered the phone, said his name was Mike. I told him, well, not exactly what had happened, but a shorter, PG-friendly version. There was an uncomfortable silence but he finally answered.
“You’re sure you hit it?”
“Yes,” I said. “But it didn’t die.”
“It won’t die.”
“Well it’ll have to be put down won’t it? You have to catch it and kill it. Because of the rabies.”
Mike sighed. “You don’t understand; you cannot kill it. No one can kill it.”
This unsettled me, and in the few seconds I took to respond I heard a faint scratching sound. “What do you mean?” I asked, following the sound to my front door.
“It’s not rabies,” Mike said. “I don’t know what it is but I’ve seen it before. It’s…an evil that won’t die.
I almost didn’t hear that last part, instead pulling my window blinds to the side. No one was outside. Then I looked down and saw a brown tail stained with dried blood.
It couldn’t be.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the door a crack – and a raccoon tried to dart into the house. I threw my foot up, blocking it, and it began biting my sock and pant leg. It was the same fucking raccoon alright. I dropped the phone and began kicking the raccoon, eventually sending it flying off the doorstep. I slammed the door closed and locked it, and peered out through the window, watching as the raccoon came back up to the door and began scratching again. You’d think it was the cat wanting in.
“Hello? Hello?”
I picked up the phone. “Sorry Mike. It’s the raccoon, the one I hit. It followed me home. It’s outside trying to get in. How did it find me?”
“Listen to me carefully,” Mike said. “Don’t let it touch you. You can’t kill it, but you can get rid of it. You ca-”
“How soon can you be here?” I interrupted. “This thing is freaking me out.”
A pause. “I’m not coming out there. There’s nothing I can do.”
“What? What do you mean you’re not coming? That’s your job! That’s why I called you!”
“Like I said there’s nothing I can do. I can’t kill it. And if I captured it and took it away it would find you again. It’s got your scent now. So listen very carefully: you can give it someone else’s scent, okay? You can pass it along. You need someon-”
Suddenly I heard the back door creak open and I nearly dropped the phone again. I was about to run and close it before the animal got inside, when I heard a voice.
“Honey?”
It was my wife. I looked back outside and saw her car in the driveway. With all the commotion I must not have noticed. She usually came in the front door, but I could guess why she didn’t this time. I needed to warn her, tell her about what was going on.
“Mike, can I call you back in five minutes?” The line was dead. “Mike?”
“Daddy!”
My little girl, Jessica, ran into the living-room and threw her arms around me. “Did you see the raccoon?”
I put the phone down on a stand in the hallway and tried to act normal, though my heart was racing. “Yes I saw it. Now why do you still have your shoes on? You go back and take them off.” I began walking her back through the kitchen to the back door, where I met my wife, Cheryl.
“Have you seen our friend?” she asked, giving me a quick kiss. “I think something’s wrong with it.”
“I need to talk to you about that,” I said gravely. I think the look on my face let her know it was serious.
After chasing Jessie to her room so we could talk in private, I told Cheryl everything that had happened. She looked even more spooked than I did. By this time the raccoon had sniffed and scratched all around the house, looking for a way inside.
“What did the animal control guy say to do?”
I’d almost forgotten about him. I grabbed the phone and hit redial, but the no one answered. I called back a couple times, but the phone just rang and rang.
“Probably closed,” Cheryl said.
I looked at my watch; it was going on 7pm. So we were on our own for now. “He said we can get rid of it by giving it someone else’s scent, whatever that means.”
“Someone else’s scent? How? Like grabbing their dirty laundry or something?”
“I don’t know.” I began pacing, trying to think.
“What time did he say he’d be here?”
I shook my head and said, “He’s not coming.”
“What do you mean he’s not coming? That’s why you called him!”
“He said there’s nothing he could do. It’d keep coming back!”
“Well call someone else then!”
“Who? Everyone’s closed!”
“Ted, we can’t stay trapped inside all weekend like prisoners!
“I know! I’m thinking!” After a minute of pacing I went back to my computer, figuring I could look up scents. I learned a little about how predators hunt by scent, and about masking your scent, and things like that, and I got an idea.
I went into the bathroom and grabbed some cheap cologne, and doused myself with it. I grabbed the pistol out of the closet, then I told Cheryl my plan, and to lock the door behind me. Then I bolted out the back door.
I ran to the middle of our backyard and waited, the setting sun bringing a chill to the fall air. I wished I’d grabbed my jacket – I grabbed the gun but not my jacket. I felt foolish. I kept the gun in case of intruders, never once thinking I might use it on an animal. Would it even do anything? Mike had said nothing could kill the raccoon, but did he know for sure? Had anyone tried a bullet to the head? How could it survive that?
It wasn’t long before I got an answer, as the raccoon came limping around the side of the house, now hobbling on all fours! I watched in fascinated horror it waddled toward me. Its leg had healed! Well maybe not completely, but it was miraculously, sickeningly, healing. As it neared me I finally came to my senses and ran around to the front of the house in the other direction. My theory hadn’t worked; the hope that enough cologne would mask my scent and render me invisible.
I reached into my pocket and grabbed my car keys and let myself inside. I sat in the driver’s seat, put the gun in the cup holder and thought about what to do next. The raccoon was still slow compared to my sprinting, but it had gotten noticeably faster. It reached the car and clambered up onto the hood and began scratching the windshield. Through it I could see my wife at the window, looking upon the scene with worry. I knew then that I had to get this thing, this unstoppable creature, away from my family.
I started the Jeep and backed out of the driveway, and the sudden movement sent the raccoon tumbling off the hood. I took off down the road, knowing it would follow me. I didn’t know where I was going, or what I was going to do; I just drove, hoping an idea would come to me. After a few minutes I came to the main road and took it back toward the city. I knew I couldn’t drive forever, especially since I had about a quarter of a tank of gas. Not much, but I wasn’t in danger of running out anytime soon. And my car was in good mechanical shape, so there was nothing to worry about. As long as I stayed in the car and kept driving I would be safe.
Of course, that would be too easy. As luck would have it, my left front tire blew. It was the same tire that initially ran over the raccoon and was probably damaged from it earlier. I pulled over to the side of the road and put on my hazards, on the verge of panic.
I knew how to change a car tire, but how long would it take? Ten minutes? Fifteen? The real question was had I gotten far enough to make it? Surely the little beast would be along sooner or later. I looked out the rear window, scanning down the road for it. But I saw nothing.
The sun had almost set and the world was dim, making the situation more dire than it already was. I had to be quick. So I put the gun behind my back under the waistband of my pants, hoped out and opened the trunk to retrieve a flashlight, then crawled under the Jeep to remove the spare tire, looking back down the road every few seconds. The gun dug fiercely into my spine so I took it out and placed it near the rear tire, within reach.
It took a longer than I expected to remove the tire; the position was awkward and flashlight wasn’t that useful since I needed to use both hands, leaving me in relative darkness. When I finally dragged myself from under the vehicle I scanned down the road and found, alarmingly, that I couldn’t see far at all. Night had fallen and I could only see fifteen or twenty feet down the road. So I set the parking brake and put the Jeep in reverse so that the rear lights came on. This allowed me to see a good fifty or sixty feet further.
Nothing was coming, except for the odd vehicle. Feeling no less worried, I got to work jacking up the car and removing the flat tire. Once again, every few seconds I would glance down the road to ensure I was alone. The night was quiet, except for the sound of cars coming and going in the distance and my hurried, laboured breathing.
Then, just after I removed the flat tire and set it down, something jumped on my back and began nipping at my neck. I panicked and flung myself around, reaching behind to feel damp fur. The sneaky bastard must’ve been on the other side of the road; I didn’t have a chance at seeing it coming.
I did my best, given the angle, to grab the raccoon, and threw it off me. It didn’t go far, landing a dozen feet away, unharmed. It ran back at me, now completely healed, and damn it was fast!
I dove under the car for my gun, thinking myself stupid for not grabbing it after I’d removed the spare tire, and felt small teeth clamp around my ankle. I thrashed my feet hard as I could, and accidentally kicked the jack. It bent and gave away, and the Jeep fell on top of me, pinning my left leg underneath. I screamed in pain. The raccoon escaped unharmed.
Now I was unable to move, and still out of reach of my gun. I twisted around as best I could to see the raccoon as it latched onto my pants again, clawing and biting everywhere. Gritting my teeth, I reached down and grabbed its tail and yanked it away from me. But I held tight, whipping it around and hitting everything as hard as I could; the asphalt, the side of the car, the hard dirt. After a few minutes of this I flung the raccoon as far as I could across the other side of the road.
It was still for a moment, but then gathered itself to its feet. It stumbled around, dizzy, I imagine. I looked around, seeing the muzzle of the gun sticking out by the rear tire, and stretched for it. But it was hopelessly out of reach, and agonizing to try with the crushing weight of the car on top of me. Even if I could worm my way out it would take time I didn’t have. There were no rocks or sticks or anything nearby I could use as a weapon. All I had were my bare hands, and I didn’t think I could fight this demon animal all night.
I looked back to the see the raccoon, having gotten its bearings straight, scampering back over to me. Then headlights appeared, and the sound of a loud engine invaded my ears. I heard brakes squeal and saw the large tires of a jacked up truck crush the raccoon. The truck swerved for a bit, but got under control, and sped away down the road.
I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen. Part of me was grateful; but another part was upset that whoever was driving the truck didn’t stop to help me. The sound of the engine faded and all was quiet, and I became aware of how cold I was, lying on the ground. There was nothing I could do about it, being trapped. I regrettably left my cell phone at home, not knowing I would need it. I was a sitting duck, waiting for someone to pulled over to help, or if my wife to come looking for me.
And chances are the raccoon would reach me before anyone else did.
All I could do was lie there and watch as the tail twitched, and the ball of fur slowly rolled around. It found its feet but was unable to use them, not all of them. I counted the seconds as it crawled around aimlessly, sniffing for me, hunting me. Then it began to move, dragging itself slowly up the road in the direction of the truck that had just run it over.
I was confused at first, but then it made sense. Pass it on.
That’s what Mike had said on the phone, and I finally understood what he’d meant. Someone else had hit the raccoon, and it was going after them now. It had caught someone else’s scent. I’d passed it along. I laughed a little, until my teeth began to chatter, and I watched the raccoon crawl away up the road, not daring to take my eyes off it until it was out of sight.
***
I assume I fell asleep, because the next thing I remember was lights and voices, and being carried away in a stretcher. Someone had driven by and seen me, called an ambulance. I was under my Jeep for just over an hour, and my leg had gone numb by then. I sure felt it by the time we’d reached the hospital though. Thankfully it wasn’t broken, but it certainly swelled up, and I was given some crutches to use for a few days. My wife came in as soon as she’d heard what had happened. Apparently she’d gone out looking for me too, only went the other way down the main road. She was upset that she didn’t find me first, but relieved when I’d told her the raccoon situation was over.
To everyone else I merely said it was an accident on the side of the highway. I’d set the jack stand in some loose soil, wasn’t careful, whatever. No point in telling the truth and looking like a maniac. They kept me overnight for observation and I went home in the morning.
But the story isn’t over. In fact it gets a little weirder. I tried looking this up on the internet, but no matter what I searched I couldn’t find anything about animals stalking you. Surely I couldn’t be the first person this happened to because Mike, from animal control, had heard about it. I tried calling him again but only got an automated system telling me the number was no longer in service. The next day I went into the city to the address in the phone book, only to find a decrepit building that looked abandoned. I didn’t know what to make of any of it.
So that’s why I’m writing this. Someone out there is going to be affected by…whatever it is going on. That raccoon is going to keep attacking people. Perhaps that’s why you’re here reading this. Maybe you’re online looking for answers too. Well you’re not alone. Use the information I’ve given you.
One thing I will add is DO NOT GET BITTEN. I’m not sure when it happened, but I found puncture marks in my ankle. As of yet they haven’t healed or gone away. There’s no pain or discolouration around the area, but it’s odd; just two little holes. I’ve been having fitful dreams lately, and strange thoughts too, like wanting to eat raw meat. I haven’t told my wife about this – no need for her to worry over nothing…if it is nothing. I visited my doctor in secret and he found nothing wrong with me, although I’m still waiting on blood test results. I’ll keep you posted.
The Chris Effect 