Prologue
Dr. Nathan Carter
The Atlantic’s dark tide laps against the dive platform with a pulse too calm to be trusted. Although the waters surrounding Maverick Key appear harmless and inviting, I know better.
Twenty feet below the surface lies an underwater cave system—a blue hole. I discovered it seven months ago, igniting a surge of interest from academic communities eager to capitalize on its potential for significant scientific contribution. It could take years to secure university funding to map and study the caves, but private investors have wasted no time jumping in to fill the financial gaps. I accepted one of their offers, stepping into the role of lead marine archaeologist.
Against the boat railing, I take a deep breath, savoring the fresh scents of ozone mixed with brine and aquatic life, allowing my thoughts to wander. Our research team has mapped the main cavern, but deeper penetration into the caves remains unexplored. I’ve started those treks on my own, and today, I’ll venture further than what issafe.
The weight of this decision settles deep in my chest. I’ve broken the rules before, sure, but this? A solo dive into unmapped overhead cave passages defies every safety protocol. Always dive with a partner. Always take a support team. The rules exist for good reason. But some people aligned with this project have an agenda, and they’re starting to ask the wrong questions. My trust has been misplaced, and if I don’t keep my progress secret, I may lose control of the discovery altogether.
So here I am. Alone.
Maddie’s voice echoes in my thoughts—sharp with frustration after I’d told her I was planning to dive solo. It was a mistake to do so since I couldn’t explain all the reasons why.
“Nathan, why are you pushing boundaries? It’s reckless. One day, you might go too far. You’re smarter than that.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry for bringing you into this.”
“Mom and I need you. Whatever’s driving you to do this just isn’t worth it. Please don’t do it.” She struggled with her words, her voice shaky, a sure sign she was holding back her tears. Once they started, she couldn’t stop them. Each of her whimpers was a dagger to my heart.
“Sssh. It’s okay. Please don’t worry. I promise I’ll be careful, and I’ll find another way.” I tried to walk it back—to ease some of the anxiety I’d caused.
“Promise?”
“Yes. I promise.”
Her sobs subsided into a soft, wet sniffle. “Thank you. We love you.”
“You and Mom are everything to me. Get some sleep.”
I imagine her face—eyes focused, mouth set with determination, gripping the phone in her hand. I lied to her on our call, and the guilt is eating me alive. She’s sacrificed too much already—finishing medical school and caring for Mom asearly-onset dementia claims more of the woman who raised us. Soon, I may be the only one Maddie has left.
After I complete this project, I’ll ask them to live with me on the island. I have more than enough space at the inn, and Ms. Connor will help with Mom. Maddie and I just get each other, and there’s so much more that I can teach her. I think of our childhood in Sarasota. Playing, growing up, and diving. My little sidekick until she became her own woman. Now, I picture her swimming in the ocean again, happy and carefree like she used to be.
She’s going to love Maverick Key.
Sorry, Mads.
I tighten the straps of my rebreather.
One day, I know you’ll understand.
Now, I picture another’s face, and my heart beats faster. Her gentle smile disarms me in ways I never expected. I’d rested my hand on her stomach after we made love last night, trying to memorize the softness of her skin and the measure of her breaths. Every risk I take now isn’t mine. It’s ours. The promise of our future is heavier than the gear on my back. It’s not fear making it heavier—it’s hope.
I shake off my memories and check the readings on my dive monitor. There isn’t any room for mistakes or distractions on this dive.
The rebreather will recycle my exhaled air, scrubbing out carbon dioxide and replenishing oxygen. The closed circuit allows much deeper, longer dives than traditional open circuit scuba diving but demands vigilance. Malfunctions are often deadly.
I signal to the captain and roll backward off the dive platform.
Cold water hugs me in an icy embrace. At ten feet, sunlight still filters through the water. Parrot fish dart around me,flashing blue and yellow at the edge of my vision. At fifteen feet, I approach the outcropping of coral and an oasis of life. At twenty feet, the world darkens, and the coral fades into a center of barren sand and jagged rock.
The blue hole.
My pulse quickens. Eels, sponges, starfish, and barnacles circle the entrance’s edges, opening like a portal into another world. I swim in, cutting through the cobalt-blue water as the temperature drops. My flashlight illuminates the limestone walls peppered with striations and veins of quartz. The waters inside the hole are beautiful but empty, as if life doesn’t dare linger here long.
Stalactites hang from the ceiling, formed over thousands of years by dripping water, above ground, then flooded into giant sinkholes under the sea. My dive light reflects off their surfaces, casting an eerie menagerie of dancing shadows.
