“What could have caused this?” my father asked.

“Perhaps it’s like an extra-low tide,” a man standing beside us suggested.

My father shook his head. “No, that’s not right. High tide was at nine this morning. This is pretty much high tide.”

“Looks pretty low to me,” the man said. He had a strong German accent.

“Even if it were low tide, it’s never like this,” my father replied.

“It is now. Some places in the world have gigantic tide changes,” the man said. “I have heard of such places.”

“Yes, but this isn’t one of them. The slope is shallow, so high and low tides have a difference of only twenty or thirty yards here. I’ve been coming here for years and I’ve never seen anything like this.” My father turned to one of the resort staff who had come out to look. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

He just shook his head. He was staring, open-mouthed, looking perfectly stunned. I looked from face to face. That was the expression on most people. Others just looked amused.

More and more people came out of the resort—guests and staff alike—and stood watching. As a group we moved closer to the water; it was almost magnetic.

“Great chance to walk on the bottom of the ocean,” somebody said. “Let’s go.”

I’d started to walk along with them when my father put a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s just stay here.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Let’s just stay.”

I was going to say something when I realized his reluctance probably had more to do with my mother than anything else, so I didn’t argue.

“If he wants to go out, if you both want to go out, I’ll just wait here,” my mother said. Apparently she was thinking the same thing.

“No,” my father replied. “Let’s watch for a minute…this doesn’t seem right…the ocean doesn’t just run away for no reason. And it’s still going out.”

He was right. The open ocean bottom was becoming wider and wider. It was so strange.

“What do you think is happening?” I asked.

He just shook his head.

While some people stayed on the patio with us, a whole lot of others were going down to the beach and out to the ocean floor. They skipped around the puddles, picking up or nudging the fish that lay gasping there. I couldn’t help but wonder how fast the water had been traveling if even fish couldn’t keep up.

All along the beach, as far as I could see in both directions, people were out, standing, watching, or even walking toward the water’s edge. It had to be two hundred yards away now…maybe farther. And was the water still receding? How far could it possibly go?

“What’s that sound?” my mother asked.

I pricked up my ears. I couldn’t hear anything…maybe it was the wind. That would make sense—maybe the wind had blown the water out—but I didn’t even feel a breeze.

“Oh my God,” my father gasped. “It’s the water…it’s coming back in, and it’s coming in fast!”