Rosie waited patiently for her to finish chewing. Emma pondered not answering the unspoken question, but thought better of it. It was best to satisfy the curiosity of her new companions to avoid wild speculation.
“My mother ran away from home when she was a teenager. She hated everything about the town, our family, our religion. She wanted to find herself. She ended up in a commune on the West Coast where she met my father. They connected on a ‘deep spiritual level,’ got pregnant, and decided they didn’t connect with me on a deep spiritual level. They dumped me off with my grandparents and left for a different commune somewhere in Costa Rica. I occasionally got postcards and birthday gifts from them until the zombie apocalypse.”
The smile on Rosie’s face had faded during Emma’s story. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Yeah, you did.” Emma cut into her remaining tamales with vigor with the side of her fork. “Everyone wants to know who I am. I mean, that’s normal, right? Especially now. Who am I? Who are my people? So, I’ll tell you. I got my freckles from my redneck Irish family, my killer cheekbones from a German grandfather, and a natural tan from my Lipan Apache heritage. I’m twenty-five, I was a single mother, my ex was a charming jerk who cheated on me, I was going to school to make a better life for myself and my son, and I was poor as shit. None of that mattered once the zombies came and killed my son.”
“And then you killed an entire town of zombies.”
“A small town.”
“But a town,” Rosie said gently. “That’s impressive. It says you’re a resourceful young woman. Or that maybe you had help.”
Emma was convinced she was under interrogation by the woman. Was she doing it on behalf of the Fort leaders or for herself? That was unclear, but Emma didn’t like it one bit.
“My grandfather helped me until he died of a heart attack a few months after it all started. Stan died with my son on the first day. I’ve been alone. I didn’t run with any banditos or anything like that.”
Rosie chuckled. “I think you’re misunderstanding me.”
“You’re not trying to find out if I’m some criminal element?”
“No. No. Nothing like that.”
“Oh.” When Rosie didn’t expound, Emma considered the possible conclusions the woman could be drawing. “So you think I’m military?”
“You don’t have that kind of bearing, so no.”
“Then why all the questions?”
“I watch out for my family.”
“So you’re here about Juan?”
Lifting her eyebrows, Rosie placed her elbows on the table and leaned toward Emma. “Why would I be here about him?”
Emma wagged her fork at Rosie. “Maybe because your niece was giving off some serious matchmaker vibes yesterday.”
Rosie snorted. “Monica is always trying to set people up. It’s her thing.”
Pointedly taking another bite, Emma waited for Rosie to continue.
“I have to wonder why didn’t you show up earlier to ask us for help.”
Emma blotted her lips with a napkin and took a swig of diet soda. The beans had a spicy bite to them. “Two reasons. Number one: I wanted to put my son to rest. He disappeared on the first day and I eventually accepted that I wasn’t going to find him alive.”
“I’m so sorry,” Rosie said, meaning it. “I can’t imagine what tha
t was like for you.”
“I didn’t want him to be one of them.”
Bobbing her head, Rosie said, “I would feel the same way. But you could have come here and asked for help, you know.”
“That brings me to reason number two. I didn’t know the Fort was here.”
That surprised Rosie. “Oh, I see. So how did you find out about us?”
“Jenni.” Emma enjoyed Rosie’s shocked look.