Chapter 7 #2
alone. He wishes he could speed up this part for her, the hurting part, the scary part. But he also has to figure out a way
through this mess, for Hale Timber, so they can have a life on the other side of it.
“I’m going to check on her,” Evan says. From his throne on the vending machine, Isaac sighs, then signals the excavator to
start back up.
Annie divides her attention between Walker—his time-altering slowness, the seagulls descending en masse toward the fish he’s focused upon—and Evan, climbing toward her over a pile of sheet metal.
“Are you okay?” Evan asks once he gets down to the sand. He reaches out and holds her by the shoulder. With his touch, the
world winds up to its usual speed.
Annie isn’t sure how to answer. As if on cue, Walker stands up from behind the chest freezer. He’s taller than Evan by at
least a few inches, and lankier. His uncommonly pale skin seems almost Nordic next to Evan’s deep tan. His translucent eyes
are more blue than grey in this light.
They look at one another.
“Oh. I didn’t see you there,” Evan says, blinking. He releases Annie’s shoulder, and it aches once he’s let go.
“We found him on the beach yesterday,” Ruth says.
“I’m Evan.” He puts his hand out to shake Walker’s.
Walker regards his outstretched palm.
“He’s a bit . . . unusual.” Ruth scrapes mud off her boots against a downed telephone pole.
Walker remains motionless. Evan withdraws his hand and shoves it in his pocket.
“He hasn’t said much yet,” Annie says. Walker watches her talk; his eyes do not leave her mouth. “His name is Walker.”
She does not say: I made up his name, or, can you hear the sound coming from him? She doesn’t say the dozen things she’d usually
tell Evan, talking faster than she can organize the sentences. She does not say: You’re too far away. Why did you leave me
alone in all this?
“I’ve never seen him before,” Evan says.
“We thought we should put a call out on the SSB,” Ruth says. “Mine’s dead.”
Evan nods and hollers up to Isaac.
“Give me a minute,” Isaac yells over the excavator’s grinding.
The absence of vessels in the water is disorienting; Henry’s gillnetter and a couple of dinghies are the only things still afloat.
A wrecked trawler is half submerged in low tide.
Boat skeletons line the shore. The devastation is so complete Annie wonders if the landscape will simply overtake them.
The forest will encroach from above, the sea from below, and they’ll all disappear before anyone comes to help.
For a split second, she thinks she might prefer that. Disappearing would be easier than carrying on.
Isaac finally climbs down from his podium.
“Ruth.” Sweat beads on Isaac’s face, as if he’s been clearing the ground himself. “Something you need?”
“This boy’s name is Walker. We don’t have a last name. Can you put a call out on your radio?”
Isaac glances at Walker. “It’s chaos on the radio. I’ve got it turned off.”
“Someone might be looking for him,” Annie says.
“Everyone’s looking for someone. People washed up, dragged out, boats capsized.” He finally lights the cigarette between his
fingers, sucking air through its orange embers.
“More reason to make the call,” Ruth counters. The din of the excavator fills the space between them.
Isaac smokes and does not answer.
“Do you have a better sense yet,” Ruth fans the smoke away, “of how it is down the coast?”
“Forty-foot waves all the way to Oregon.”
“Vancouver?”
“Strait of Georgia was protective. Flooding in False Creek, Yaletown . . . they’ve still got aftershocks.”
“They’re evacuating Vancouver Island,” Evan says.
“No sense in leaving, in my opinion.” Isaac taps ash off his cigarette and gestures around his feet. “If we clear this area
here, we can still ship.”
Evan closes his eyes and inhales slowly.
“Henry’s radio’s dead so he can’t make a call,” Ruth says.
But Isaac doesn’t seem to hear her. “Everyone will need to rebuild.” He’s talking to himself, and has already started back toward the excavator, out of earshot.
Evan massages the back of his neck. He looks older to Annie. They’re not kids anymore. No more diving off the boat, playing
checkers, climbing rocks on the beach. That was years ago.
“I’ll put a call out,” Evan says to Ruth.
“Thank you.” Ruth pats his upper arm. “Let us know if you hear anything.”
“Of course.”
“I’m going to talk to Henry.” Ruth climbs across the detritus to her brother’s tent. Walker doesn’t leave Annie’s side.
“You still have enough to eat?” Evan asks. He’d been over briefly, two days ago, with a collection of bruised crab-apples,
a sack of split peas, and vegetable oil from the logging truck supplies. “I’m heading to camp to bring back more food.”
She hates that he didn’t visit again yesterday, but can’t bring herself to tell him.
“We’re fine.”
“I’ll be there for a few days. Maybe longer.”
“Why so long?” Annie doesn’t like any of it. She doesn’t like him staying in town with Isaac, camping out in one of the dry
houses up the hill, working the beach at Isaac’s side.
“We’re bringing down more logs.”
Annie looks back to the excavator. Behind it, a truck waits, loaded with trees. She can’t help but say it: “Why does that
matter right now?”
“We’ll go broke.” Evan blows out a breath. “Then people will have no jobs. That’s what Dad says.”
“As if there’s anywhere to take the logs? The mills must be destroyed.”
“The mills up the channel are inland enough.”
They both look at Isaac, who is back on his vending machine and growling into a walkie talkie.
“What else am I going to do, Annie? He’s my dad.”
“You could have stayed with us.”
He should have stayed, is what she means.
Evan doesn’t answer. He looks at Walker and lowers his voice. “He seems . . . is he confused or something?”
Annie glances over her shoulder. His hum surrounds her, drowning out the excavator. “I don’t know what he is.”
Evan frowns. “Are you holding up?”
“Not really.” It’s firmer than she intended. She kicks at the sand and uncovers a shiny object. Crouching down, she picks
up a watch and brushes the sand off. It’s still ticking, hopeful in its evenness. She buckles it on.
Evan reaches out and holds her wrist where the watch is.
“We’re going to be okay.” His voice is steadfast.
Annie meets his eyes. She wants to believe him.
Raindrops start falling like they mean it. Annie sees Ruth brokering her way back over the debris with a big, dead fish in
her hands.