I say extinct. Melchizedek Hobbs had come out in his crazy smock to drive the beast off, and it treed him. It tore the robe off him and trampled it to ruin. I know, for I was the one who got him down out of the tree when they had cornered the bull.
The old plant was left, and I have always had to give credit to Abigail, much as I sometimes dislike her, because she let him keep it after they were married, up to the point where it began to shed on her rugs. No woman could do more. He killed it then, quietly. And to this day, though Melchizedek Hobbs still potters around the greenhouses and sits in the back of the new store when Abigail will let him, he has never so much as mentioned the Zulu rose nor his ill-fated attempt to teach young plants the facts of life.