Daniel and Megan hovered above the opening, listening to bits of conversation drifting upward, not clear, but unmistakably tense. “…pressure building…” “…door’s bulging from the inside…” “…if it’s feeding on that— we can’t ignore it.” Daniel’s pulse hammered. Megan gripped the couch so tightly her knuckles whitened.
After several long, agonizing minutes, Agent Brooks finally emerged from the hole, dust smudged across her jacket. She exhaled once, steadying herself before facing them. “Mr. Woods. Ms. Clarke,” she said, voice calm but taut, “we’re going to have to open that door.” Megan’s eyes widened. “Is that even safe?”