Carie was dead.
She was pretty sure that this was the only proper explaination. But there was a lingering question, outside of her grasp of the known universe, the relationship of the soul to organic flesh and bone. How could she know truth at all? How could she reason out her own demise or prove to herself that she did in fact exist? It was all very much out of her grasp. She engaged in what could only be described as a short reprise of all modern philosophical considerations on the subject, quickly finding that none of them accurately described the current quandry.
It had been very hot outside. She had been very thirsty, for a very long time.
There was no telling what had happened.
But you are more fortunate than Carie.
You have a narrator who writes from the third person, and the third person omniscient at that! I know everything, and can tell you all. Isn't that lovely?
However pleasant that knowledge has just made you feel, I do have to warn you. Carie, alive or dead, is in terrible danger. If she does make it out of this dreadful place, she won't be very happy at all. And knowing how stressful human life can be for all of you, I have to tell you, you may be better off forgetting Carie altogether. You don't know her very well after all. If you passed her on the street, I'm certain you wouldn't recognize her at all. It would be like meeting your hairstylist at Target, you wouldn't know her from any other customer. And it all would be rather embarassing for the both of you.
I'll give you some time to think it over.
You'd like to know?
Well, okay. But don't say I haven't warned you.