I am coming to terms with Carol’s death. I hate that phrase. I hate having to “come to terms” with all the crap around me. But I guess you gotta just embrace the suck to make it out alive. I may have come to terms for whatever that is worth but it doesn’t make me happy or relieved or anything like that. I don’t see it the way Dylan sees it; that she’s been released from her misery. I don’t see it the way Detective Rodeny does either … Rodney Cash the cop. He says that Carol was a danger to herself and others and her actions left him no choice. He doesn’t think that she was a rabid animal or anything like that, just that she was such a danger that she wasn’t going to stop killing on her own, that she had to be stopped. I’d say he regretted shooting her except I’m not really sure that is true. But he isn’t bragging about it either which I suppose is something.
He finally left off and left me alone though after I proved that I could drive and I was able to finish escaping.
It took me almost four days to deal with the meat and stuff from that haul and some of the meat nearly spoiled – should have done it first but I was trying to make soups and stews and a mix of things all together. I had to start by cleaning the ancient kitchen so I could set up the propane cooker in there. God, the stove looks like it belonged to the witch out of that Hansel and Gretel story. If I hadn’t packed all the food in those funky Styrofoam containers with the dry ice in them that had been in the walk in freezer where I found the meat half the stuff would have gone over and I would have wasted all that effort. Had to use the regular coolers for the non-meat stuff or it would have wound up useless too. I used the dry ice to try and save the bananas I found and they wound up such a mushy mess when they thawed that I was lucky to make banana preserves with them and a couple of
banana fruit cakes that I put in cookie tins wrapped in booze soaked cheese cloth.
Yeah, I took the fancy booze that I found there too; and, regular booze that I’ve found other places. What of it? Ok, so maybe I shouldn’t have but on the other hand I figure it might come in handy for something. It is hidden though, big time because I don’t want to make myself a target for anyone else that might try and flop here. I’ve been lucky so far but better safe than sorry.
But all the moving the canners and coolers around … geez. When the Percocet ran out I lived on Tylenol and Advil and Rolaids to deal with the acid upset and then as soon as the last canner was done I pretty much slept the clock around once and a piece. I woke up and had to run to the port-o-potty ‘cause the inside bathrooms don’t work. After some much needed relief I stepped out and nearly passed out when I opened the door and there stood Mack with an extremely annoyed look on his face. He had to stop in mid-lecture while I puked from hunger and then insisted that either I came with him to have my arm looked at or he’d knock me out and take me there anyway.
Trying to stay out of trouble I told Det. Rodney that, “I’ve only taken stuff that would have spoiled or will spoil before people come back.”