Dave Freedman - Natural Selection

To escape both, the dolphins had to swim right into the middle of the forest. Either that or turn around. They didn’t turn around.

THE BLACK eyes watched them. A single ray too far from the herd to participate in the hunt floated listlessly just below the surface as the dolphins leaped out. Through the shimmering water, it watched them, a sight to behold, their silhouettes flying through the night air beneath the moon. The predator saw none of their beauty. It saw food.

THE LEADER’S sonar readjusted again. Now there were four large cartilaginous animals. One to the east. One to the west. And two directly behind them.

The big mammal now knew that the mass in front of them wasn’t kelp at all. But whatever it was, it wasn’t exactly in front of them either. Not entirely. Somehow, it had moved and changed shape. It was now on their sides.

And even behind them.

THE RAYS quickened their pace. They had drifted into position earlier to avoid detection, but now they were swimming as fast as they could, approaching from every angle.

THE DOLPHINS halted.

Floating ten feet below the surface, they tuned carefully. Something had surrounded them, apparently a vast group of animals. At first, the dolphins had determined they were sharks, but sharks moved much faster and were shaped differently. These were winged creatures.

The mammals fanned their tails, rising toward the shimmering surface until their heads poked out. They still couldn’t see the rays, but their sonars reconfirmed that they were coming. And also that they had teeth. Very large teeth.

Suddenly the dolphins knew what was happening. They were being hunted.

Smart as they are, dolphins are not courageous animals. They scare easily and often lose their ability to behave rationally when threatened. Floating at the surface, a few twitched ever so slightly. Then their twitches grew larger, turning into jerks. Then the jerks turned into full-torso shakes. Then one of them cried, a single high-pitched squeal that echoed over the watery plane. Then a few more cried. Then they all cried. Suddenly the entire herd was shrieking and shaking wildly. The attack hadn’t even begun, and the once-graceful, once-intelligent animals were already reduced to a mindless, terrified mass, sheep before the slaughter.

Then a powerful, piercing scream rang out above all the others. It was the leader. Unlike the others, it hadn’t moved and hadn’t made a sound. Its strong, 950-pound body was still pointed forward, its head out. The others went silent and swam next to it, forming a straight line.

They slowly submerged to ten feet. A hanging wall of gray, they just read the signals surrounding them. They still couldn’t see the rays but knew the winged creatures were moving closer. They’d never get close enough.

The gray wall moved. Slowly at first, as the dolphins searched the waters in every direction. They saw no fish of any kind, just twisted shards of moonlight. They picked up speed very quickly and within moments were streaking through the seas.

Continuing, they looked up and, for the first time, saw two of their hunters a pool length away near the surface, winged silhouettes slowly flapping toward them.

The dolphins sped below and past like they weren’t there.

The rays froze. The dolphins had panicked earlier and been on the verge of self-destruction. Now they were putting up a fight. And a good one. They just watched as the speeding mammals disappeared.

The dolphins didn’t look back. The moon-dappled waters ripped past, and they veered sharply upward. They couldn’t see them yet, but their sonars indicated the next group of rays, a dozen, was two pool lengths away. The rolling surface rose up, and they hurtled through it. Bathed in the moonlit air, they breathed in deeply, then knifed back in. A dozen winged silhouettes came into view moments later and the dolphins simply tore through the sea beneath them. As they passed below, one of the dolphins looked up. Their hunters weren’t even moving now. The rays’ silhouettes were frozen, so still the dolphin instinctively thought they might be dead.

They weren’t dead. They were looking right back at it, studying it, studying all of them. Their horned heads turned slightly, watching the gray mammals disappear. The rays were too smart to waste energy chasing prey they knew they couldn’t catch, but they instinctively realized there might be another way to catch the dolphins. It was too late for these rays of course but perhaps not for the next group….

THE NEXT group of rays was already within the mammals’ view, two dozen of them. Strangely, these rays were swimming away from the dolphins, toward the surface.

The dolphins ripped below and past them, already arching up for the next gulp of air.

MANY POOL lengths away, more than a hundred rays were also swimming toward the surface, the water surging past their horned heads. The previous group’s timing had been off, but these rays sensed theirs could be perfect.

THE DOLPHINS hurtled through the seas, moving at nearly forty miles per hour now. Their heartbeats had already slowed considerably. The next group of rays was the last major obstacle. If the dolphins could make it past them, they’d soon be free….

THE RAYS swam higher as fast as they could. The dolphins were rapidly coming closer and within seconds would pass directly below this exact spot. The predators pumped hard, the shimmering plane approaching. They pierced it and, spraying water everywhere, rose straight into the night air. Ascending to different heights, they turned back to the sea. The undulating gray bodies were speeding closer, moments away. The rays just had to hang in the air long enough and then…

THE DOLPHINS were suddenly confused. The rays had disappeared. Speeding through the moon-dappled waters, the mammals turned in every direction. They couldn’t see them anywhere.

THE RAYS were directly above them now. Plunging down, eyes locked. Just like seagulls hunting for fish.

SUDDENLY THE dolphins picked something up. Something above the water.

They didn’t have time to react.

Suddenly big winged bodies were dropping everywhere. Ten landed in front of the herd, a dozen behind it, and they all missed. But half a second later, another platoon landed, and they were on top of them.

Powerful jaws thundered closed on the dolphins’ defenseless bodies, gouging huge chunks from their backs, necks, torsos, and faces. The speeding gray wall disintegrated, shrieking dolphins swimming off in every direction. The mammals thrashed furiously, desperately trying to shake off their attackers. None let go. The rays had wrapped their entire winged bodies around them, and as they were hurtled through the seas their frantically chomping jaws simply tore off more and more meat.

Within minutes, more than half the herd had given up, resigned to death. Others, even though chunks the size of footballs were missing from their sides, tried to swim away in vain. Five dolphins actually shook their attackers off, but soon others leaped on.

Two of the mammals were in such shock they dove toward the depths, not realizing they wouldn’t have enough air to get back up. They didn’t need it. Bleeding severely as they passed the thousand-foot mark, their muscles suddenly stopped working. They entered complete paralysis and, within seconds, drowned. Their corpses floated for a moment until a dozen of the rays they’d passed earlier began to eat them.

The largest dolphin, the 950-pounder that had been the herd’s leader, continued to fight. A few feet below the waterline, it swam as fast as it could, less than five miles per hour now. Seven juvenile rays were tearing away at it, three on its back, two on its stomach, and one each on its face and neck. It swam for another twenty feet, then gave up. It emitted a final cry, a weak gurgling sound, and died. The rays continued to feed on it. They’d already removed 350 pounds, and though their stomachs were full, they worked on the 600 pounds that remained.