I had always felt bad about having todepend on her for money to feed us.But there wasn't much I could do aboutit. A lifetime of odd jobs hadn'tleft me with much of a retirement fundand we had to eat. The pittance thatI got just about paid for this lousyramshackle shack out by theInterstate. Her cheque paid for thegroceries and medical bills.
No one seemed to want to hire aseventy two year old handyman. My
eyesight was failing, my musclesweren't what they used to be and Isometimes forgot what I was supposedto be working on. With Edith gone,money for food got awfully tight.
I used to walk the Interstate forsomething to do, trying to findsomething interesting, when I noticeda cow, freshly killed by anautomobile. It had wandered out ofthe pasture and happened onto to theroad. Now, it didn't look nearly asgood as the cellophane wrapped steaksdown at the grocery store. But itlooked a damn sight better than theonce a day plate of beans I had beeneating. Actually, it didn't look bad.No bugs, no discoloration, no realproblem with the meat actually. Well,other than the section that had beenhit by the bumper. Good red meat. Ifyou didn't think about how you got it,it wasn't too bad.
I went back up to the house and got abutcher's knife. Flies had begun togather by the time I got back but Ishooed them away. I cut off a chunkfrom the undamaged section and carriedit back up to the house. When I gotto the kitchen, I carved off a steakand wrapped the rest. I had norefrigerator to keep it in but Iwrapped it in a newspaper and put itin the cupboard.
That had to be the first meat I had inbetter than a year. Tasty. A mitetough but I figured that was from thecow tensing up before the impact. Themeat down at the grocery store comesfrom cows that are killed quietly.Those cows never saw what killed them.And they're usually so shot up withtranquilizers, meat tenderizers andstill so full of growth hormones thatits a wonder they know where they are.
This meat was gamier. Sort of likethe cow saw some car heading square atit and tensed up before the impact. Itried not to think about how the cowdied. I was just thankful for themeat.
I ate steak at every opportunity forthe next couple of days. Breakfast,lunch and supper, I ate steak. I knewthat beef was going to go bad and Iwould be back to a diet of beans. Imight have tried to stretch the shelflife of that beef too much. Towardsthe last of the cow, I got a littlesick from eating it. Hurt mesomething fierce to have to throw outwhat was left of that meat.I was back to beans after that. I'lladmit that I started walking the sideof the Interstate more often. Ifigured if one cow can get out, maybeanother one can. I thought seriouslyabout walking over to the pasture andopening the gate. You know, sort ofhelp them out onto the road. But Idecided against it. Cows are prettydumb animals and I wasn't sure they'dnotice the gate was open before theirowner closed it.
About a month or so after that, I wasup on the Interstate. I hadn't seenanother cow hit. Just the occasionaldog or cat. Sometimes a possum or asquirrel. But no cows. The beanswere getting to me by then. I wascussing my bad luck when I saw aGerman shepherd that had been killedthe night before. I thought about howdogs are considered a delicacy in someparts of the world and how its betterthan beans.
The dog didn't look too bad. It wasin worse shape than the cow, beingsmaller and all. The meat was prettybadly messed up and bloody as hell butit had to be better than another plateof beans.
Dog really isn't so bad. Not the sametaste as beef or pork. And it sure ashell doesn't taste like chicken. Butit isn't too bad. It was even gamierthan the cow. The meat lasted betterthan the beef had. Or maybe I wasdeveloping a tolerance for spoiledmeat. But I was ready to go huntingby the time the last of the dog wasgone.
Pretty soon, I got good at collectingroad kill. You had to do it justbefore dawn. I mean, what with all ofthe traffic on the Interstate duringthe day time, it wasn't safe to be outthere in the light. And I was alittle concerned about what thedrivers would think. They're drivingalong and they see some old mancarrying off a bloody animal and sureas hell, I'd get a visit from thepolice.
And it is bloody work. Its hard tocarry what's left of an animal that'sbeen hit by a car and stay clean. Thecarcass is usually pretty bloody. Bythe time I get back to the house, I'ma mess. I have to take off mycollecting clothes outside the door.
Now and then I find an animal thatdidn't die. Maybe just a broken legor dazed from an impact. So I carrymy butcher's knife with me now. Dogsput up more of a fight; cats go prettyeasy.
Kind of odd. Ever since I startedeating road kill, I've noticed changesin me. I feel better than I have inyears. My eyesight seems to beimproving. I know my strength isreturning. I'm back to running. Infact, if too long a period of timegoes by without new meat, I can rundown a dog and take him on my own. Ifigure its got something to do withthe way the animals die. Thoseanimals see some Buick bearing down onthem and they freeze, terrified. Inthose last few seconds of life, I'llbet their adrenaline level goes skyhigh. God knows what other chemicalsare produced during their deaththroes.
I'd always thought that eating meatfrom those docile cows, doped out oftheir mind, was making us as tame asthey were. We used to be a fairlyaggressive nation. Picked fightsright and left and won them most ofthe time. Then we started eatingdomesticated meat and all of thatended. Well, I seem to be swinging inthe other direction. Eating road killseems to be having an effect on mybody. And my mind.
I was cooking the road kill the sameway I would have cooked beef. Oneday, while I was carving up a newlycollected animal, I got to wonderinghow it would taste raw. I tried itand liked it and I've been eating themnatural ever since.
Whatever those chemicals are seem tobe concentrated in raw meat. I'mchanging faster now since I stoppedcooking it. My hair is no longersolid gray but is now streaked withthe original black. I can run fartherwithout getting winded. I can liftmore weight and carry it longer. Butthat isn't what's bothering me.
Lately, I've been thinking about thosechemicals. I've been wondering ifmaybe they would work better if theywere from the same species. What ifthey were stronger and changed me backto fifty or even thirty if they werefrom a human?
I've been waiting for an fatalaccident to happen after midnight.Maybe some young woman who's returningfrom a night on the town. I've heardthat women have more fat than men andtheir muscles aren't as developed. Ifigure I could make it up there and begone with the body before anyonearrived on the scene. It shouldn't betoo hard to carry a woman back here tothe house. I can lift about a hundredpounds now so I should be able tocarry her back with no problem.
If I have to, I could help it happen.I could rig up a barricade or find away to puncture the tyres on the car.And if the accident wasn't fatal,well, I could help that too.
What bothers me is how quickly I gotto liking the taste of uncooked dog.What if I tried raw human flesh andliked it? I could give a whole newmeaning to road kill!
End.
