Cara points her handgun at the side of the road. The sun is low in the sky and casts the clouds in beautiful cotton-candy pinks and orange.
“I think we’re okay,” I say. “It doesn’t look like whatever is out here is as human-hungry as the lions in DC.”
There’s a flu victim lying face up on the sidewalk to our left. Their flesh is tight against their skeleton, but there are no bite marks, no gunshots.
“Maybe leopards don’t like human jerky,” Cara says.
My stomach rolls. “That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“Maybe no talking,” says Amy. “Just in case.”
Cara nods.
Amy is leading us now. She took over as soon as she started to recognize the area. It’s changed since Jamie and I were here. For one, it’s winter, so the leaves have fallen from the trees and most of the grass has gone brown. Dull-green vines grow up the sides of houses and from under car hoods.
Every day since we left Bethesda last June, this area has become more like a jungle. Maybe that’s what the zookeeper who let out the animals hoped for all along.
Amy takes us around a corner, and I see it right away. Henri’s house. It’s still boarded up and the grass is overgrown. But the brick-and-metal fence around it remains. The lock is still on the front gate.
Cara reaches for the padlock, turning it over in her hands. “Should we just shout for her?”
Amy opens her mouth to answer, but the front door swings open.
And there she is. She looks so much thinner. Smaller. Older. It’s only been a few months, but any longer and I might not have recognized her right away. Her white hair is braided and curled into a bun. She squints at us—the shotgun points down at the ground—then recognition lights up her face and her mouth drops open. She puts the gun to the side of the door and marches into the winter afternoon.
“Amy?” Her voice is hoarse, as if she has a cold.
Her eyes flick to Cara, then back to me. They crinkle as she smiles and takes out a key to unlock the gate. Her hands are shaking with excitement, and I immediately lose the ability to talk. Her smile drops a bit when she looks back up from the lock. Amy is sobbing, her hands on the gate. “Mom.”
“Oh, honey.” Henri swings open the gate and wraps her arms around Amy, and I lose all composure I have left as Amy hugs her mother tightly.
“Shh, it’s okay,” she whispers, lovingly rubbing the back of Amy’s neck. This moment makes everything worth it. I was worried it wouldn’t, but here we are. Amy and her mother are back together. Jamie and I traveled so far and lost so much, but we still managed to make this happen, and it’s all worth it. I wish he were here to see it.
Cara turns away, but I can see her wipe tears from her own eyes. Taylor is grinning, and Jamar has wrapped an arm around her, but the Kid’s eyes are locked on me. He watches me wipe at my cheeks, and I nod that everything is okay.
Then Henri holds Amy out at arm’s length, looking at her. “You look great, pumpkin.”
Amy wipes at her eyes. “Please, I look like death warm—” Her voice trails off and I follow her gaze to the front door of the house.
“Amy?”
Another woman stands there, in her forties—she looks just like Amy. And beside her is a girl around Taylor’s age who is a young version of the women in front of me. The girl runs toward us.
“Auntie Amy!”
“Ellie!” Amy loses it again and pulls the girl into a hug. The other woman runs out and joins her, crying. Henri watches them with tears in her eyes. Then she looks at me and laughs, opening her arms wide for me. I hug her, burying my face in her warm sweater.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “Both of my daughters are home with me.”
Both of her daughters. This must be the one who was in Colorado. She was alive after all.
“Your granddaughters, too,” Amy says, turning and looking to Taylor.
Taylor holds out Henri-Two to Amy, who takes her. “Mom, Kristy, Ellie, this is Henri-Two. Er,Henrietta!” She catches herself, laughing and shaking her head. Then she gives me a glare. “Can’t believe you made that nickname stick.”
I shrug. “It fits.”
Henri-Prime takes Henri-Two in her arms. “I think it’s perfect. Just like her.”
