Savage Drift

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I’ve read some amazing stories in your paper about survivors of the Megatsunami. Up here in the Quilchena refugee camp in Vancouver, Canada, they sometimes read the letters aloud after lunch. Sometimes people cheer. But I’ve noticed that almost all the letters you run are from people on the East Coast.

Maybe that is because your readers are more interested in people from their own area. Or maybe it is because the mail is messed up and you are not receiving the letters from out here. Nevertheless, I am sending you our story, in the hopes that after you print it our parents will be able to find us.

On the morning of September 28, 2024, I was on the bus to school when a monster hailstorm came up. Our driver, Mrs. Wooly, drove the bus through the front doors of our local Greenway superstore, to get us out of harm’s way. All together, there were 14 of us.

Mrs. Wooly went to get help, and while we were waiting, the riot gates came down, trapping us inside. It was only then that we found an old-fashioned TV set in the store and found out about the Megatsunami. When the earthquake hit the next morning, and the chemicals spilled out into the air, we sealed off the door and holed up in the store.

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