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“Jenni is dead.”
“I’m not lying. She told me to come here.”
“Did she find you on one of her missions? Tell you we were here?”
Emma shook her head. “No. She told me just a few nights ago.”
“That can’t be. She’s dead.”
“But not gone, right? Not completely.”
Fingers fidgeting on the surface of the table, Rosie gave her short nod and discreetly crossed herself. “Tell me how she told you about us.”
“I dreamed about her the night after I put Billy to rest. I didn’t know who she was, of course, but she showed up when I was passed out drunk after failing to work up the nerve to kill myself. She told me to come here.”
“So how did you know it was Jenni?”
“Juan’s son showed me her picture in the memorial garden after I arrived. I recognized her.”
Muttering in Spanish, Rosie sat back sharply in her chair. “Troy told me Jenni told him in a dream that a nice lady was coming here and then you arrived.”
Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, Emma found it hard to believe that the woman in her dream had actually existed and told her to come to the Fort. Yet, it was the truth. “That dream about Jenni saved me. I didn’t want to live anymore. I lost everything in the apocalypse. I came here because...” Emma floundered, unsure of how to express emotions she couldn’t clearly define.
“Because you didn’t want to be alone?”
Emma’s grip on her fork was so tight her fingers were aching. “It’s hard to put into words. I guess maybe I just wanted to feel hope. Even if the dream was bullshit and the Fort didn’t exist, trying to find it was a more positive, hopeful thing than putting a bullet in my head.”
Rosie sighed, her fingers fiddling with the gathered hem of her apron. “I came here to talk to you because my grandson, Troy, likes you a lot. He won’t stop talking about you. I just wanted to make sure you’re the type of person he should be attaching himself to. Listening to you speak, it helps me understand who you are and what you’ve been through.”
Emma fought the urge to chuckle. Here she’d been convinced Rosie was interrogating her for the powers that be when she was only a concerned grandmother. “I understand.”
“If he bothers you, just let me know. I told him to let you get used to living here before he starts to pester you.”
“He’s sweet.”
“So do you, Emma,” Rosie replied, her expression warm and kind.
“I’m just a mom who lost her kid who hopes to help other people not lose theirs.”
As Emma spoke the words aloud, they became her mission and purpose for living. There had to be more than just mere survival in this dead world and she’d found it. It was natural that her thoughts would drift to someone she already knew was in dire circumstances.
“The mother with the child from yesterday…”
“Yes?” Rosie tilted her head, curious.
“Is she still outside the wall?”
“Sadly, yes. Juan says Travis talked to her over the walkie-talkie he gave her, but she is refusing to leave her poor dead son behind. Juan says she’s convinced we’re holding out on her.”
“Has anyone gone over to talk to her face to face?”
With a sad sigh, Rosie shook her head. “She’s moved locations. We don’t know where she is now. We can’t make her come into the Fort. Everyone has to make their own choices in this world. As cruel as that may sound.”
“It doesn’t sound cruel. People should be allowed to make their own decisions, even if those choices don’t make sense to us.” Emma remembered her own despair and the ghost in her dreams, urging her to find a new life. “Maybe she just needs to speak to someone face to face. Someone who understands.”
“You?”
“I’m not sure yet. Maybe.”
