Dave Freedman - Natural Selection

“I like that optimistic nature of yours, Lisa. It’s kind of sweet.”

She reddened slightly, suddenly aware that she was leaning forward. She didn’t know why she’d worn her sexy jeans tonight.

Jason smiled, more to himself, happy he could stick her a little. “Tell her how we’re going to find a dead one, Craig.”

Craig took a step forward. “GDV-4.”

She turned. “What?”

“We know GDV-4’s been forcing these rays out of the depths, right?”

“Right.”

“But it must have killed a bunch of them, too.”

“OK, so…”

“So maybe we can find a dead one.”

“How do you figure that? You know how quickly the ocean’s food chain works, Craig. We wouldn’t find more than a skeleton.”

Normally, when an animal dies at sea, its entire body—skin, muscle, fat, liver, brain, even eyeballs—is eaten and digested with great efficiency. The feast takes place in three phases. First, the largest of the scavengers eats large chunks of meat and muscle. Second, smaller animals eat the bulk of the insides, including the major internal organs. Finally, the vermin, the tiniest of the flesh eaters, pick the bones clean. Nothing is left to waste, and within forty-eight hours, skeletons are all that remains.

Monique’s eyes shifted to Craig. “I don’t get that logic either.”

“Let me explain it, then. This isn’t just a normal dead body. If GDV-4 did actually kill it, then nothing will even touch it, much less eat it. The virus would actually serve the beneficial purpose of preserving the body.”

Monique smiled. “That’s very clever. You think it will work?”

“Jason figures there’s gotta be at least one body down there, and I’m inclined to agree.”

Darryl turned. “How deep are we talking, Craig?”

“A couple thousand feet.”

“A couple thousand ? How are we gonna get to that? Will Ackerman pay for that?” The cost of renting the necessary equipment could easily be ten times their combined salaries.

“I get the feeling Ackerman’s financial situation is getting worse, so I’d prefer not to lean on him here.” Jason shrugged. “We might not need to.”

“You know someone who’s got the equipment?”

“I’ve got to check. What’s up with the kelp trail, Darryl?”

“We can’t find it.”

The starkness of the answer knocked a blank stare onto Jason’s face. “We’ve got to find it. If we don’t… we could be in real trouble.”

“Then we’re in real trouble,” Lisa said.

“What? Why do you say that?”

“Because the kelp trail’s probably gone, Jason.”

“Why would it be gone?”

“Because these rays have got to be finished teething by now.”

“Why? Mantas teethe for—”

“We’re not dealing with manta rays here; you just said it. These rays are predators, and predators grow teeth much faster.”

“How much faster?”

“Typically, with barracudas and sharks, lower-central canines peek out within hours of birth, upper centrals within weeks, first primary molars, maybe two months. I’d say all the primary teeth are generally present within four months tops.”

“But these rays have been teething on kelp for almost five.”

“Exactly my point. A very long time for a predator. I think the dolphin you and Craig just saw confirmed it: these things have real teeth now; they’ve got to be finished teething. ” She slumped slightly, waiting for him to rip into her with his second-guessing. Instead, he simply nodded.

Lisa paused, not understanding this reaction. But then she realized: if they wanted to find a brain in the depths, they had to do it fast. Even if a body had been preserved by GDV-4, it wouldn’t last down there long. Water currents could destroy it in days. They had to get moving, and Jason didn’t have the time to second-guess her now.

On cue, his shoe started tapping. “How are we going to track them, then?”

Monique shrugged. “Maybe we can track them directly.”

“How, Monique?”

“Darryl, are these things big enough to pick up with sonar?”

A devilish smile. “You know, they might be. We got a bunch of buoys in storage.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Would that actually work?” The Expedition ’s sonar buoys had an acoustical range designed to track torpedoes but could also be used to detect whales, dolphins, and other large animals. So why not the rays? The buoys were just like regular buoys except they had sonar microphones on their bottoms with a range of five miles each. With two dozen, more than a hundred square miles of ocean could be covered. They could just toss them in and see what they picked up.

Jason nodded. “It’s worth a shot. All right, Monique, tomorrow you and Darryl will throw out buoys, then track from the boat. The rest of us will see if we can find a brain.”

Darryl raised a finger. “Jason, if you’re planning to use a submersible, you know that requires a special license, right?”

“Oh.” Jason paused, looking around the boat. “Does anyone have that license?”

Blank faces looked back at him.

Then Monique turned to Darryl. “ You have that license, right, my modest husband?”

Darryl smiled, his lovable smugness in plain sight. “Big Dog to the rescue again.”

Jason shook his head. “Fine. Darryl comes with us to find the brain, someone else goes with Monique.” He glanced at Phil, silent in the corner. “How about Phil?”

“Oh.” Darryl hesitated awkwardly. “Uh, well, Monique’s worked with Craig for years. Why doesn’t he just help her?”

Jason said nothing. He had to play this carefully. On the one hand, he thought this could be a perfect chance for Phil to actually do something useful on the boat. But on the other hand, this job was critically important, and he didn’t want Monique Hollis unhappy. “Sure, Phil will come with us and Craig will go with Monique.”

Darryl pivoted to Summers. “Test your harpoon gun before you go, Craig. Carefully.”

Summers nodded. While Monique could more than handle herself with a rifle, Craig, Darryl, and Jason were the only ones on the boat who’d used harpoon guns before.

“You really know someone who has this diving equipment?” Lisa asked.

Jason popped open his cell. “Let’s find out.”

“SID, IT’S Jason Aldridge.”

Sid Klepper paused, eyeing the cordless phone in his hand. He couldn’t believe it. “Jason Aldridge?! How the hell are you, man?!”

In an enormous living room, Klepper and his business partner, Ross Drummond, were stretched out on a pair of custom-made eight-foot leather couches, their large, shirtless bellies on proud display. The men didn’t look it, but they were the multimillionaire owners of Marwood Enterprises, a hugely successful conglomerate of diving businesses. The pair knew Jason from much leaner times, when all three had spent a summer working on the tiny white-sand island of Yap, in Micronesia, when Jason first learned about mantas and Sid and Ross were mere clerks in a local dive store. Drummond and Klepper’s lives had changed dramatically since then, but they’d always considered Jason a friend. “What’s going on, Jason?!”

Jason smiled quietly at the greeting. Klepper and Drummond had once been friends of his, real ones, and with the exception of Phil Martino, he didn’t have many of those anymore. “Let me tell you what’s going on, Sid.”

When he finished explaining, Klepper didn’t hesitate. “Of course you can borrow the equipment. When do you want it?”

“As soon as you can do it, Sid. Sure, I’ll hold.” Jason literally crossed his fingers. Then he smiled. “Tomorrow would be perfect.”