Page 46 of The Wild Beneath

The idea coalesces in Isaac’s mind. “Evan, you can skipper the tug.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never towed booms.”

“You’ll be excellent at it.” Isaac claps him on the shoulder. “I know it.”

“But—­” Evan frowns.

“You want a million dollars of logs crashing onto the beach, Isaac?” Ed interrupts. He widens his stance and crosses his arms. “That’s madness.”

“Do you have a better plan?” Isaac counters.

Evan scrubs his face with his hands. “I’m going to go over and see what they’re saying.”

Ed exhales hard and recrosses his arms in the other direction.

“You look like a strong lad.” Reddick puts a hand on Evan’s shoulder as he arrives. “We have more to unload.”

Within a few minutes, Evan is carrying canisters of propane off the coast guard skiff, then bags of potatoes and a case of instant soup mix.

Ruth tears the clear packing tape off another crate that’s labelled MEDICAL. One at a time, she pulls out tensor bandages, birth control pills, toothbrushes. Boxes of Kleenex and a cardboard sleeve of alcohol swabs.

“I know this has been a traumatic time,” Reddick says loudly. He has an empty crate in his hand, and bits of Styrofoam packing drift away in the breeze. “We can’t take everyone out of here right away.”

“Take everyone where, exactly?” Evan asks, sweaty after hauling a propane generator off their skiff by himself.

“The evacuation camps in Vancouver are slammed,” Reddick says flatly.

Ruth looks down at the bottle of sanitizer in her hands. She can imagine those camps: rows of government-issued tents, people trying to sleep on uncomfortable cots. People milling around, listless, waiting for who knows what. But safe and out of the elements, at least.

“We’ll have to come back through this area with a ferry for relocations, once we have temporary housing figured out.” His voice is a worn-out record player.

“When’s that going to be?” Evan asks.

“We’ll take anything urgent now, but everyone else will have to wait until October.”

“Everyone?” It’s Isaac, who has made it down the beach, several loggers in tow. “Is this a mandatory evacuation?”

“We’re trying to make sure everyone can—­”

“Because we’ve got millions in timber on shore here,” Isaac interrupts. “We can’t just leave it.”

“Maybe take it easy.” Evan tries to calm him.

“How bad is it everywhere else?” Ruth asks.

Reddick massages his lower back with his free hand. “Thousands are dead or missing. Mostly the coast and Vancouver Island. Vancouver proper got the least of it.”

“You’re not so bad, up here,” Yetman says. “The archipelago softened the blow.”

“We can take anyone sick or injured today. We can take children with a family member,” Reddick says.

Harvey retrieves a thermos from the skiff. His press badge flaps against his sweater. “How many are left in town here?” he asks Ruth, unscrewing the lid.

“Sixty-eight was my count,” Ruth says.

“Wow.” Steam rises as he takes a sip. “Trailblazers up here. Everyday heroes.”

“How are you dealing with sanitation?” Reddick asks.