James broke the surface of the churning sea, gasping for air as saltwater burned his throat and stung his eyes. His limbs flailed, fighting a relentless current that dragged at his body. He was 150 feet out from a vast, pale beach, waves crashing over him, each one a hammer blow threatening to pull him under. His mind was a haze, memories slipping away like the water around him. Who was he? Where was he? All he had was a name, James, and a pounding headache that pulsed with every heartbeat.
He kicked hard, thrashing against the ocean's grip. His hands clawed through the water, finding nothing but more water, more chaos. The beach stretched before him, endless and unyielding, framed by distant dunes and patches of coarse grass. He coughed, choking on saltwater, his chest heaving as he struggled to stay afloat. The world felt wrong, unreal, like a dream he couldn't wake from.
A groan sounded nearby, faint over the roar of the waves. James turned his head, blinking through the spray. Others were emerging from the sea—shadowy figures, coughing and staggering through the surf. A woman with tangled hair stumbled toward the shore. A man, his clothes soaked, dragged himself forward, head down. There were at least a dozen of them, strangers bound by their shared disorientation. James didn't call out. His voice felt locked in his throat, his focus narrowed to survival.
A sharp ping cut through the noise of the ocean. A translucent screen flickered before his eyes, blue text glowing like a warning flare:
Attention: Danger approaching.
The words sent ice through his veins. He blinked, expecting the screen to vanish, but it lingered just long enough to sear the message into his mind before fading. Danger? His heart kicked up, thudding against his ribs. What kind of danger? The screen offered no answers, and the void in his memory gave him nothing to work with.
A scream pierced the air, raw and terrified. James's head snapped toward the sound. A young man, barely visible through the mist of spray, stood pointing out to sea. "Look!" he shouted, voice breaking. James followed his gaze, and his breath caught in his throat. A mile out, the ocean was rising—a tidal wave, monstrous and impossible, its crest curling like a predator's jaw. It stretched across the horizon, swallowing the sky, a wall of water that defied reason.
James's body moved before his mind could catch up. He scrambled through the surf, heart pounding, legs churning against the drag of the waves. The others were running too, a chaotic mass of bodies fleeing toward the shore. Sand sucked at his feet as he reached shallower water, but he didn't stop. The beach stretched endlessly before him, the dunes too far, the wave too close. He could hear its roar growing louder, a thunder that shook the air.
What is this place? The question burned in his mind as he pushed forward, his breath coming in sharp gasps. The system screen, the wave, the blank slate of his memories—none of it made sense. Was this a game? A nightmare? His headache throbbed harder, but he shoved the pain aside. Survive. That was all that mattered.
He glanced around, seeing the others spread out across the beach, some stumbling, others sprinting. A woman tripped and scrambled back to her feet. A man shouted something lost in the wind. James kept moving, his eyes fixed on the shore. The wave's shadow loomed closer, its roar deafening. He didn't dare look back. The air felt heavy, charged with the weight of impending destruction.
Another ping. The system screen flashed again, its blue text cold and urgent:
Seek shelter. 5 minutes until shoreline impact.
Five minutes. The words were a knife in his gut. Shelter? Where? The beach offered nothing—no cliffs, no caves, just sand and sparse grass leading to distant dunes. His legs burned, his lungs screamed, but he pushed harder, the shore growing closer with every step. The others were shouting now, their voices a jumble of panic, but James didn't stop to listen. He couldn't. The wave was coming, and time was running out.
He reached the edge of the water, sand giving way beneath his boots. The dunes were still too far, the grass too thin to offer cover. His mind raced, grappling with the absurdity of it all. A system screen? A tidal wave? It felt like a game, but the saltwater in his lungs and the ache in his limbs were too real. If this was a game, it was one where losing meant death.
The roar of the wave grew louder, a primal force that made the ground tremble. James's heart slammed against his chest, his thoughts a whirlwind of fear and confusion. Why was he here? What had brought him to this place, stripped of memories, thrown into a world that seemed designed to kill him? He had no answers, only the instinct to keep moving.
He started swimming toward the shore, cutting through the waves with desperate strokes. The beach was closer now, but the wave was closer still. He could feel its presence, a towering force bearing down on him. The others were ahead, some already on the sand, but James didn't call out or reach for them. He was alone in this, driven by a single thought: reach the shore. Survive.
As his feet found solid ground, he staggered forward, water streaming from his clothes. The wave's roar was deafening, a sound that drowned out everything else. He didn't look back. He couldn't. All he could do was keep going, one step at a time, toward dunes that promised no safety, only the faint hope of answers.