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Later that week, a freelance diver came forward. He’d snuck in at night before the object vanished. He claimed there were footprints in the sand—bare, human-sized, leading away from the vessel and stopping 15 feet inland. No return tracks. No debris. Just one-way prints. He said he filmed it, but the footage was corrupted. Julia didn’t believe him. Until he showed her the audio: faint, rhythmic tapping. Coming from underwater.
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