I patted Kenjii and she shifted until her full hundred pounds of German shepherd rested squarely on my feet. When I tried to wriggle away, she moved closer and pinned my legs. I sighed and glanced at Daniel. He was staring out the window, fingers drumming. I twisted to look at the others. Daniel and I were in the first passenger row, behind the pilot and Mayor Tillson, who was in the copilot’s seat. Behind us were the mayor’s daughter, Nicole, and his niece, Sam Russo, gazing out their respective windows. Hayley Morris and Corey Carling sat in the last row. Hayley was talking; Corey wasn’t listening. “We’re going north.” Daniel had to yell to Mayor Tillson to be heard over the helicopter noise. “We’re supposed to be heading to Victoria, aren’t we?” When the mayor didn’t respond, the pilot said, “Change of plans, son. Victoria’s backed up with evacuees. We’re taking you to Vancouver.” “Okay, so why are we heading north?” We live on Vancouver Island, near Nanaimo, which is almost directly west across the Strait of Georgia from the city of Vancouver, British Columbia.
