The small, dark-haired boy poked the grimy beach sand with a short stick, drawing lines in the sand. He had nothing better to do since, after all, it was Spring Break. He couldn’t afford Yu-Gi-Oh! cards, or the new Pokémon: White and Black, so he spent his time at the beach, dodging falling coconuts and bird poop. He had just completed an outline of a giant Pikachu, and he was starting his next project: a Squirtle.

He had just traced out its shell protruding from its bulbous blue head when he heard shouting.

“What? The water is disappearing! Look at all the pretty fish lying on the sand! They look like the little Magikarp using splash! Well, except for the fact that there’s no water to splash in.”

A group of locals were gawking at the expanse of sand and coral suddenly revealed. It was an incredible sight. Hundreds of feet of shoreline, previously covered, were now exposed. Unfortunately for some of the fish, they hadn’t disappeared with the water. It was a miracle sight.

But the boy did not move. He was nervous, anxious. He was sure that he had heard about this somewhere, but he couldn’t remember. All he knew was that this was definitely not good. He slowly backed away from the beach, eyeing the retreating water nervously. This was not good at all. He took a last long look at his drawings until he realized with a jolt that he’d never see them again.
There was going to be a tsunami. He had a vague recollection of it in one of his history and science classes, but he remembered it scaring the pants off him. He had learned that it had ravaged little villages, and that before each one, there was a drawback, where the water retreated. Obviously, these people missed that lesson or they’d be scampering faster than they could hit the buttons on a Nintendo DS, which he should probably start doing.
He turned and fled, sandals imprinting the sand, kicking up little clouds. Of course no one noticed him, since they were all too busy marveling at all the fish suffocating and arguing which ones were edible and which were poisonous. Some idiot kids were several hundred feet in the shoreline, oohs and aahs emanating from their lips as they admired the shiny, drying fish whose lives were slowly fading. The boy knew that the same fate might befall the others, but he relished the idea. Revenge for lost Pokémon battles and buckets of sand kicked in his drawings was in order.
He sped past people being urged to go to the beach, passing empty cars, and people watching him pass. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Uphill. He knew he had to go uphill. Too bad where he was, hills and mountains were as rare as smart goldfish. Best to keep running then. I might stumble across something that might help me survive a wave that will sweep this whole town away.
Suddenly, he sprawled forward. His right sandal snagged on some sort of cord, bringing him to the ground. “Chikushou!” He screeched something that shouldn’t be translated, screwed his face up, and clutched both his elbows. What the hell was that?
That turned out to be a bright yellow life jacket. Man. I feel luckier than that time I caught Mewtwo with only one Pokéball. He untangled himself from the fastening straps, and grabbed the jacket. Just then, the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. His ears registered shrill screams behind him. Oh dear. The tsunami was a bit too early for my taste.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Tsunamis travel faster than jet planes, so he had no time to waste. Springing to his feet, he hastily pulled the life jacket on and hotwired a Toyota. Camry. Perfect. Its owner appeared to have disappeared, probably marveling at Ocean 2.0. Well, he won’t need it where he’s going. The boy slid into the driver’s seat, feet barely touching the brake and accelerator pedals.

And so the games begin, he thought. For real.