Bella screamed into her regulator. Bubbles erupted. The monster’s head turned—if it could be called a head. Dozens of primitive eyes, each one milky and lidless, fixed on her.

And she swears she can feel something watching her from the shower drain.

Twelve minutes passed. Then fifteen. The GoPro feed on her tablet showed gray swirls and limestone ledges. At 17 minutes, Richard’s voice crackled through the surface comms.

“Bella, this isn’t a monster. It’s a paleo-sinkhole. There could be Pleistocene fossils—maybe even a new species,” he argued, loading his diving gear into the back of his truck.