Dave Freedman - Natural Selection

They were enormous creatures, and they were comfortable here. They knew the darkness intimately. And yet they might be the last of their kind who did; their much smaller brethren were spending increasing amounts of time in another place. The tiny animals were swimming toward it now. These larger creatures could see them, though not with their eyes.

THE SMALLER animals rose slowly and in far greater numbers than before. Tens of thousands of the little winged bodies ascended, flapping steadily. The water was still pitch-black, but the light, they knew, was coming. At least for some. When they reached the five-hundred-foot mark, half dropped off. At two hundred feet, as the water became a dark gray, another large group fell back. At one hundred feet, the first faint traces of the sunset appeared, and another group stopped. But several thousand continued, and this was more than double the number that had ventured to this point earlier.

The blind one was no longer with them. After tumbling off the boat, the little creature had rejoined its herd below. It hadn’t been welcomed back. It was savagely killed, crushed inside one of the larger animal’s mouth. More than once, it had scared off prey with its careless behavior. It would never do so again. Neither would the others that had been seen leaping from the sea. They too were gone.

The small animals continued rising. When they were just ten feet below the surface, a beautiful watery sunset shone into their black eyes. They didn’t see it. They simply swam straight up, moving faster.

First, one shot out of the water. Then another. Then all.

In the air, their wings suddenly moved much faster. They flapped rapidly, frantically, doing anything and everything to fly. None succeeded. Their bodies flailed, knocked into one another, and fell right back in.

They flew out again, over and over. After fifteen minutes, some began to improve. Rather than leap straight up, one group began angling out diagonally, then flapping. Another group didn’t flap at all, but simply glided, successfully when they caught a strong wind just the right way. No two animals were exactly the same. They all tried something different. As the last shades of color fell from the sky, their awkwardly moving silhouettes were all that could be seen against the horizon. One after another, they rose from the sea, flew as best as they could, then fell back in and tried again.

Then they detected movement far below. It was their much larger relatives, not going to the surface, but somewhere else. These animals would follow them, but when they were ready. As the skies turned black, they continued to practice.

“ WE COULD be onto a new species here.”

Near Clarita’s main docks, they were at a tavern, in a huge wood booth next to a mounted TV with a Dodgers game on. Everyone was dressed casually, eating burgers and club sandwiches. No one responded to Jason at first. Darryl and Craig had just finished their mug beers and were trying to flag down a waitress. Lisa was doodling on one of those place mats for kids. Phil Martino looked visibly famished and was simply devouring his burger. Monique was the only one listening. “I agree, Jason. I think it could be something new.”

“You do?” Craig turned irritably. “How does some manta imprint in an oil slick add up to a new species?”

“You don’t know that imprint was from a manta, Craig.”

“What else would it be from?”

“How about a bigger version of what that woman saw? She saw a newborn; then an adult made the imprint. And what she saw was no manta—not with that description.”

Summers wiped some ketchup on the thigh of his jeans. “Then maybe she described it incorrectly, Monique. Or maybe what she saw and what made the imprint were unrelated species.”

Lisa nodded. “A manta made the imprint, then separately some bat rays flopped out of the water.”

Chewing his burger, Phil turned to Jason with a raised eyebrow. “That’s an interesting point, no?”

Jason pushed away the remains of his club sandwich. “No. Two different species coincidentally shaped identically in the same part of the Pacific at the same time? They had to be the same species. You ask me, that could be something new.”

Phil turned, still chewing. “What do you think about that, Craig?”

Summers shook his head. With his curly brown locks and cud-chewing demeanor, Phil Martino wasn’t just a moron but a gutless jellyfish who’d go any way the wind blew. “I think a shoal of mantas spawned up here, then some playful newborns flopped out of the water. That’s a simple explanation.”

“Except it doesn’t make sense,” Darryl said.

Summers turned. “Why not?”

“Because massive manta shoals don’t migrate to unfamiliar waters to spawn.”

“Is that really so unprecedented? You and Monique have never heard of that happening?”

“I haven’t.” Darryl turned. “Monique?”

“Actually… Remember that shoal in Australia, Darryl? Migrated all the way from the Great Barrier Reef down to Melbourne? Nearly half of those were pregnant females.”

“Oh, right… I do remember that.”

Craig nodded snidely. “Mystery solved. A strange off-season migration. Although…” He eyed Jason. “Why would one settle in an oil slick?”

Jason shook his head. “I was wondering about that too.”

“That’s it.” Darryl abruptly stood. “Our waitress must have been abducted by aliens. Who wants a beer?”

Craig raised a hand.

“I already had you, ya lush. Anybody else?” Phil held his hand up, and Darryl nodded reluctantly. “That’s it?” He walked off.

“So is there a way we can actually find these things?” Phil asked.

Everyone shrugged.

Except Jason. “There’s absolutely a way.”

“How?”

Jason stood. “Let me tell you.”

“ WITH KELP.”

No one responded for a moment, and Jason’s words just hung over the table.

Then Phil’s face crinkled into confusion. “With kelp ?”

Jason nodded. “Monique, are you still going to check that strand with a scope?”

Monique Hollis shook her head, annoyed. Yes, she intended to check the kelp strand. But she didn’t need Jason to remind her about it again. It was the third time he’d brought it up. Though the idea did have merit. If something had indeed brought the kelp to where they’d found it, a microscope could reveal bite marks or other slight indentations not visible to the naked eye. “Yes, Jason, I was planning on it.”

But Phil still didn’t understand. “So… is kelp something we can track?”

“It depends on the situation.” Monique turned to Darryl as he returned with three golden beers in mugs. “Can we track kelp?”

Darryl put the beers down. “It depends on the situation.”

Tracking doesn’t involve following animals per se but a line of bread crumbs related to them. It’s grueling work. A tracker sometimes has to search an entire coastline’s worth of ocean to find what he’s looking for. Other times, a trail can be downright easy to follow. There are no absolute answers.

But Jason thought they could track kelp. From a hook on the wall, he removed his navy sweat jacket, then from a Ziploc produced a long kelp strand.

“Oh, how sweet. You got Lisa a present,” Summers cooed.

They all laughed, and Lisa blushed slightly.

Jason stood over the table. “I think we’re onto a new species here.” He admired the long piece of seaweed. “And I think this is going to help us find it.”

“HARRY, IT’S Jason Aldridge.”

Outside the tavern by himself, Jason ignored the view of the distant moonlit ocean as he spoke into his little gray cell phone.