“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.
He kissed her forehead. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Bare?” Bella Bare -- Richard Mann Split Open by Monster C...
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
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. He kissed her forehead
She swam. She swam until her lungs burned, until the rope tangled around her leg, until she clawed herself out of the sinkhole and collapsed onto the leaf litter, coughing up creek water and bits of Richard’s wetsuit that had floated to the surface.
“Thirty minutes,” he said. “If I’m not back, pull the line.”
