FSE

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"Oh no...Oh no ,no, no, no".

The density of the storm clouds had petered off during our day in the cave. The slanted rays of sun jutted as far down as the seabed. In the shallow waters the luminescence saturated the sea and I forced my eyes shut. Isthia swam in small, harried circles near the top of the water. Occasionally I could hear her dorsal fin break the surface.

"No no no no no.." She muttered constantly to herself, a fast clicking that had sounded much like her echolocation.

I surfaced, forcing out the rank air from the cave. After replacing it with a deep, essential breath of sea breeze, a sharp piece of particle board rammed right into my melon on its journey out to sea.

"Too much debris, love?" I called out to her, trying to ignore the constant stinging on my head. "I'd rather be prepared to see it before I open my eyes."

She hadn't heard me. Continuing her distressed mantra, she only paused to chuff once her lungs were empty. I opened my eyes to what amassed to a wreckage site. Scattered all along the sea floor, spanning miles upon miles were the leftover remains of the closest coastal city. The sand housed an arsenal of traps, wires, and obstacles made of shattered tin roofs, broken glass, disconnected power lines and crumpled aluminum siding. It appeared to be a wasteland, devoid of any fish or marine life, the leftovers of a warship blown to bits by a torpedo. As I looked to the surface I saw the damage was much worse. Misshapen wooden planks floated at the top like decaying leaves, their edges worn and torn after the wind ripped them from their foundation. Plastic garbage cans, signs, and two-by-fours floated in the surf, churned around by the raging sea. Imbedded in the sand were large metal poles that appeared to be dysfunctional lamp-posts, while a pair of shorts and a large bloody shirt floated near the surface, torn by either the wind or it's companions.

But Isthia didn't notice these things. I'd never seen so much trash under the water, and though I assumed it looked even worse on shore the amount of garbage didn't seem too much for Isthia. Quite the contrary, she continued to swim in the same spot, creating a small whirlpool in which smaller chunks of debris submerged and spiraled dangerously close. Yet she still paid no attention.

As uneasy as she was, it was no wonder I began to feel similar. "Isthia? What's wrong?" I finally had the courage to ask her, rather hearing her shout and go crazy than continue her odd ritual. This, strangely enough, was enough to abruptly put an end to her frenzied panic attack. Her entire frame spun, flukes batting away a misshapen wad of drywall, until she faced me. A look in her fist-sized eyes displayed a mixture of panic and a curiosity of how I could miss something so obvious.

"Gregory! Don't you see? The ocean's still alive! The fish haven't returned! The wind's still going strong! It's only the EYE of the storm!" And like a cartoon with badly edited frames, Isthia's pacing and muttering returned instantly. I was ready to swim onto the beach and say it was a curtain call

So, here was the dilemma. We were stuck in open water during the worst hurricane this scope of land had seen in five years. Our lifeline was a tiny, lightless cave located in the side of a bluff that held little oxygen and no life. Isthia, at the time being, was useless and disoriented after spending a whole fishless night swimming in a pool the size of a hotel suite. If we stayed out here, we'd either get tossed onto land by the waves or get in the way of a larger, sharper bit of debris. If we went back into the cave for another night, Isthia would lose her mind and possibly mistake me for a shark (sharks were her war-zone flashbacks, let me tell you). If we swam out into open water, the force of the waves might get so severe we wouldn't be able to reach the surface for air. Even worse, we'd lose track of each other and never complete our migration. A little voice in my head mentioned our old territory hadn't even succumbed to the hurricane's effects. For once, I had to make the decision for the both of us.

I decided; Hell, if we're going to die, why not get a last meal?

"Stop it, Gregory!" I had my melon pressed between Isthia's pectoral fins, which battered my face incessantly. I pushed against her with all my strength, feeling spasms of protest in the muscles of my tail. I was weak, she was crazy, and that combination wouldn't get us anywhere. So, ignoring the abuse, I continued to push against her and send her away from the debris. "We'll die out here, don't you understand that? The storm's coming back! You might as well beach yourself now!"

Don't give me any ideas, I thought to myself. Isthia tried to roll away from me, but my senses proved keener and I was able to keep my melon pressed firmly to her body. After some time, as the sea of debris faded and all around us was open, raging water, Isthia gave in.

"Fine, fine." She turned belly up, her pecs rigid and pointing at the sky. "You want me dead. I understand, Gregory. Just get back to your little base and spend another night floating there like a stick. I'd rather die than go back to that place."

With a gentle bop to her sternum with my rostrum, I got her to open her eyes and look at me. "Isthia, I hate to tell you this, but it's the honest truth. This hurricane is still going on, and we're going to stay in that cave for another night; maybe two nights if we have to. You don't want to go, and I'm not enthusiastic about it either." Isthia rolled onto her side, her dorsal fin slamming me under my rostrum, refusing to make eye contact. She'd regressed from a strong-willed female to a stubborn calf. I've never been more afraid in my life.

"But it's not just ABOUT us, remember?" I flapped my tail to stay in the same place, as waves pelted and shook us around. "Did you forget why we left in the first place? The reason we're here and not back home in relative safety? It's our daughter, Isthia. Right now she's beating the living hell out of you because you're not thinking of her, and so she's making you lose your mind. She knows you want to live, so that she can live when her time comes. But you're so fed-up with the cave that you're willing to risk both of your lives. She needs food, you both do. And even if our daughter loves it in the cave, she'll only cause you to go gradually insane if you don't take care of her now. And taking care of her is taking care of yourself. Now, would you rather we sit here and discuss all of this while Hurricane What's-her-name rolls back, or do you want to get a bellyful and be able to survive another night?"

Isthia continued to face away from me. I could see her entire backside, from the platter-sized scar on her back flank to the minor cuts and scratches along the top of her melon. I couldn't, however, see her swollen belly that separated my daughter from a cold, unforgiving sea. If my mate continued to give into her hysterics, their lives would be over and the whole idea of migration would've been sucked out like a riptide victim.

I refused to imagine anymore of what could happen. It was time to start working to see what was going to happen.

"Isthia, you're not thinking straight. It's been a long night in the cave, a long night without any food and sunlight. But you have to be strong, you must-"

Suddenly, the point I was trying to make to Isthia swooped back around and hit me worse than my first encounter with debris. My daughter relied only on her mother, and when she was weak, Isthia was too. The long night without food had taken its toll on my unborn daughter, and because of it my mate was losing her mind. I just hadn't realized how MUCH of a toll this had taken on them both. Isthia was much hungrier and weaker than I because she had TWO to feed. And here I was, wasting time trying to make that point clear to her!

I left in a rush. If I didn't get Isthia the food she needed to even comprehend the urge to hunt, then she would be lost. With my echolocation frantically surveying the ocean floor, I swam with all my might to find any possible candidate for a meal.

The next thing I knew, my energy had returned and I pelted back to where Isthia waited, my tail following its full range of motion to achieve maximum speed. In my rostrum, like two torn and decaying trophies, were sea-bass fit for a Great White. Surely these would be enough to get my mate's mind in working order. After all, trying to snap her out of it with my teeth was a dangerous and impractical solution. Finding Isthia in her static catatonic state left me worried. I pushed this aside and figured I'd save it in case these fish didn't bring her back. Even as I swam out from the aquatic fog of salt and debris, Isthia made no acknowledgment of me. No signature whistle, not even closing her eyes. Oh, those eyes. Those gateways into her mind were bottomless, but I always relished my privilege to search for the bottom. And if I had luck, which rarely left my side in this case, I'd see a spark in there somewhere. That small, tiny spark of recognition that made me believe I could see her entire soul condensed into a flash. But today, even as I held a rostrum of fish in front of her eyes, all I could see was a chasm. The spark was no longer there, simply a never-ending descent into the body of a feral sea mammal. I tried my hardest to find any sign of life, hoping I'd find a smaller spark with the large one, but I never could. My mind played tricks, shadows bouncing around deep within her pupil. Shadows that cried out in pain, in fear, screaming at me that I was a monster for allowing such a terrible ordeal to happen. They shouted that I was a fool to think two bass could stop the rest of the storm from coming. Even the sea mocked me, tossing me farther away while simply gliding down my lover's streamlined body. It never crossed my mind that, during my time away, she couldn't have taken a single breath of air. Maybe she could feel the temperature dropping and would rather forget about what was returning. That, or she didn't have the energy. Either way I prayed this could be solved.

"Isthia...I brought you something." I released the fish and together we watched them dance in the current, almost trying to swim away and continue their lives as tattered zombies of the sea. "Isthia, please! You need your strength. You can still swim, sure, but your brain might as well be dead!"

"They look so much alike." Isthia muttered, so faint I was ready to roll her over and slam her chest once her blowhole was above the surface. "They look like a family. Mother and daughter. The only family in the ocean, Gregory, and you killed them."

I shuddered violently at the dual meaning, one I hoped she hadn't intended. The blood still pouring from the wounds on the bass gave me a euphoric sense of security. If it attracted sharks, we'd most likely be eaten and not have to worry about becoming beached during the next surge. Hey, I'd rather feed someone than be dissected for some college kids.

Oh great. Now it was rubbing off on me! Damn it, Isthia!

By that point, she'd gone too far. How can you expect to see your teacher and mate lose their mind without losing yours?

"Isthia, if you want to die, then by all means lay there and drown. I'll eat these fish myself! But damn it, you're not letting my daughter die!"

I barely had time to blink when, before my very eyes, the fish were gone. Isthia was no longer visible, even if my eyes hadn't left hers. A sound from above caught my attention, a homely welcoming sound like knowing your child is healthy if they're crying. It was a noticeable forceful sound like the sound a bat makes during its many swings. I looked to the surface and there, floating at the top, was a torpedo-like silhouette the length of a van. The torpedo turned downwards, charging against the pressure of the sea. Like the tip of an arrow, her rostrum was the first to come into the light, her body following an invisible length of wire. Two dark, sparkling eyes sat on either side of her snout, forming the typical curious expression humans have found so irresistible in dolphins. And maybe, that was proof I still had a bit of human left in me.

"Correction; I'm not going to let OUR daughter die." Isthia quickly turned her body, flicking her tail enough to propel her several feet against the current. Knowing exactly the nature of her tail movements, something the eye must train to see, I promptly followed. Side by side, I was able to get a detailed look at her right side, from the hairline scars around her eyes to the sharp contrast of colors where her stomach met her cape. And her eyes...the sparks lit up the deep hole and I saw her beauty at the bottom. "And neither are you, Don Juan."

It was a rough paraphrase, sure, but I don't think any of you know of the heroes in dolphin fables. Yeah, they have plenty.

She nudged my rostrum upwards, bringing my vision to directly straight rather than angled downwards. Out of the bottom of my eyesight I could see her smiling. I could see she was alive. That was all I need for the next night in the cave.

The quantity of schools had greatly decreased, but with each stray morsel we happened upon our minds began to settle. Even if the ocean tried to stir us up, food in our bodies was enough to strengthen our senses.

As we were returning to the cave, our energy and nerves restored, Isthia broke our relaxed silence.

"About earlier, Gregory...I didn't mean what I said. Fish are fish, but you're a wonderful provider. I'm so sorry I forgot that."

I snapped my rostrum, a deep chirring sound resonating within my blowhole. It was my own way of chuckling, something dolphins had an equivalent of that I never could place my mind on. "Just making sure MY provider has her senses."

About three minutes from the cave, the rest of the storm hadn't yet reached landfall. With an eye this size, it was no wonder the hurricane caused the damage it did. "Wait a minute! Stop!" Isthia ordered, something I did so under protest. "Just listen, alright? I heard something. Something out of place!"

We sat in place, watching the hue of the ocean gradually darken. Sure enough, somewhere above the water we heard a high pitched cry.

"Sounds like a gull. They're probably as hungry as we are." Isthia quickly shushed me, bubbles spewing from her blowhole angrily.

The sound we heard first was far off, almost unnoticeable. It was definitely an organic sound, one that a creature produces when in need of assistance. Though it spoke with such an honest need, the sound lacked any remaining thread of hope. It's like hearing the cry of an animal on the verge of death; it knows help will do little good, but clings to the hopeful thought as its final positive feeling.

"I can't recognize it!" Isthia grumbled, swimming slightly toward the direction the sound came from.

"I can." I said, in a matter of fact way. "It's something calling for help."

Isthia's actions were so quick and graceful, I worried we were working off our recent catches as I struggled to keep up with her.

"It's live and let die, love! Every man for himself! I'm sure the animals here know how to handle hurricanes that hit landfall."

"Not THESE, Gregory!" Isthia kept her pace, her tail moving so quickly it appeared to stay in up position the entire time. "I know all the emergency calls for ANY animal in the gulf that can make a sound! But I can't understand English. YOU CAN. This is a human!"

I knew sympathy should've been my first reaction. Yes, it's sad that someone was SOL in the middle of a hurricane. This creature didn't ask for it's current predicament and maybe didn't even deserve it. But all I could think of was "The cave is in the OTHER direction, Isthia.".

Whoops, did I say that out loud? "I don't care! Someone's in trouble! Don't forget that HUMANS saved YOUR life when you were beached, remember?" Isthia didn't even look at me while she spoke.

Well, sure, but this man didn't. Why should I save him? This time, I kept my thoughts to myself.

"Because WE'D want them to do the same if it was us, alright? Now follow me!"

Isthia had much sharper senses. I'd wondered if they were all working right, or if it was just the one that knew what I was thinking.

As we approached the noise, the sea began to rise and fall violently like an opera singer's chest in deep sleep. The storm was already returning!

"Look babe, this guy's a goner. If we try to help him, we'll ALL die. I'd rather save him after the storm."

But that wasn't happening. After I'd spoke, I heard a familiar sound usually reserved for underwater vents or sighs from disgruntled cetaceans. It was the sound of bubbles breaking at the surface, at a hertz so rapid even we might not have hear it. I could hear something that roughly amounted to wood and metal banging against fiberglass, right down to the cracks made in the hull. The picture became clear. It was a sinking ship with a captain who cowardly refuted his code.

"Come on, Isthia!" I pleaded, ready to call it useless, "He was the one dumb enough to be out during a hurricane! Do you get what I'm saying?"

She'd ignored me. About two miles up ahead, I saw a white triangular shape cut below the surface. The shape continued to enter from above, making an acquaintance with it's new home until the it dried up. I could see the lower deck even from our distance as it submerged.

We rose up to breathe, and by the sound grew painfully close. "Help! Help me!" The call was long and sorrowful, bordering a line between sheer desperation and defeat. "Somebody help!" Even I felt a twinge of sadness, knowing I used to be like him. But I'd never have been so thick as to take a boat ride during this storm. Hell, I wouldn't even be in an area vulnerable to hurricanes in the first place!

"Listen to him." Isthia cooed, a deep and pitiful sound. "He thinks it's no use. He's just calling to make himself feel better." My mate had a higher affinity to humans, and while I did feel awful that this man was about to die, it was only because I could understand exactly what he wanted. Isthia didn't understand his words, only their motive.

"It's going to go under soon." My mate clicked, studying the ship with her sonar. "The boat's taking on a lot of water. Gregory, when you see his knees go under, you swim up behind him and push him away from the ship. I'll come up from the front and lift him above the water. You swoop back around and enter the same way I did, going between his arm and his body. We'll provide support and we'll dump him off in the surf by land. Hopefully he'll be alright until then and get some shelter. Okay?"

I scanned the water. She couldn't be serious, could she? What were we, angels of the deep? We didn't read newspapers! A story of the man saved from Hurricane Jane Doe by two lovable little dolphins that wanted to help him would make every child and old lady in the US gush! What good was saving this man if we didn't get to reap in the benefits of recognition? He'd tell all his family and friends and someday, while he's out fishing during an ice storm, he'll see two dolphins he'll mistake for us and tell his family and friends again! Even worse, he might actually SEE us and think we're his guardian angels watching over him! He'll pray to us every time he's driving towards a Twister or shoveling snow during a blizzard! I couldn't believe Isthia's naet It's EXACTLY what every other human does when an animal rescues them! They believe it to be some sort of sign when it's only a natural drive to help those in need that can't be considered enemies! And lately, a lot of people had-

"There they are! Gregory, pay attention! Hurry up! The man's about to go under!"

It was no use. She wanted to save him, fine. SHE could save him. Until then, I decided to sheepishly follow orders.

I could see the entire boat underwater, a large off-white phantom invading our land. The suction created was slight, but definitely noticeable as I reached a close proximity. I couldn't see the man's face, only his kicking feet and writhing torso, garnered in black windbreaker pants and a bright yellow poncho. Odd, the boat didn't appear to be a fishing one...oh yeah, I'm supposed to save this guy first.

I drove headlong towards the deck then, at the last second, twisted my body horizontally to break my momentum. I jerked my head upwards along the joint, causing my entire frame to skid and turn in a circle. The first moment I saw his kicking legs, I righted my body and faced his way, beginning to flap my flukes against the churn of the sinking vessel. I kicked off' from the boat, propelling my body forwards and up. My rostrum cuffed him near the small of his back, forcefully enough that I wondered whether or not I separated his vertebrae. Oops, sorry honey, guess he lost the will to live. His legs stopped kicking.' Hearing him cry out from above the surface made me grin a little. I never agreed to save him with gentleness in mind.

"We're SAVING him, remember?" Came the aggravated whirrs from below the man's right shoulder. As I turned back around I could see she was positioned under his armpit, glaring at me while I turned around and did the same. My dorsal fin bumped him in the shoulder and I could hear a large groan, followed by a scream as the man realized there were fins in the water. Talk about ungrateful! We could've let the sharks come and get him; he was practically expecting them to!

"Turn him to the right, Gregory! My way! That's the way the land is!" Isthia called, chuffing after each syllable as we were, currently, with our capes above the surface. I could feel the slimy, salt dried plastic poncho scratching my skin. But it wasn't until I felt the man's cold, spongy fingers wrap tightly around my dorsal fin that I was ready to throw him off. The least he could've done was thank us BEFORE he took our rescue efforts for granted!

"Ouch! Okay, maybe his hands hurt a little," Isthia meekly replied from the other side of his body. "BUT, he's scared and acting naturally. Just stick with it! Land is only a mile and a half away!"

When I chuffed, I felt something thick and bony penetrate my blowhole. Was that his thumb? Why, I'd never felt more violated! I wasn't one of those blow-up pool toys you hold onto by those weird holes! Besides, his nails could make the inside of my airway bleed! And if that attracted sharks, I'd see to it he stayed underwater until they came!

I chuffed again, shouting a string of insults that, to his ears, must've sounded like a low warning trill. Thankfully, he resumed to only causing pain along the support of my dorsal fin.

In what felt like a few seconds, I noticed the familiar beige-yellow luster of the seabed. We were in the shallows! And it was a death-wish. I could feel the water pull us with an increasing force, meaning it was only a matter of time before the storm came back at full force. We gave two final strokes then, carefully coordinated, we barrel rolled off to the sides and let the man sink. If his feet didn't touch the ground, the waves would eventually knock him back onto land. And as for me, I didn't care if a riptide caught him.

We didn't look back. We didn't check to make sure if he had made it onto land. Isthia was in a rush to get to safety, as swimming in a straight line was now out of the question. I simply didn't care. Now our concern had shifted to ourselves and reaching the cave before the next storm surge brought the second half of the hurricane.

"Isthia, I'm blaming you if we don't make it." I sternly muttered. To my surprise, she twittered a bit, sounding close to a laugh.

"You were talking not letting our daughter and I die. But when it comes to your own kind, you're completely apathetic! I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing. It's just so ironic!"

I grumbled, reluctantly opting to let her temporary high spirits run their course. That's just it, my love, I spoke to myself, you two are my own kind now.

***

As we entered the chasm to our beloved shelter, a man lay motionless on the beach. No debris lay before him. That's because, where we'd left him, there was nothing man-made to destroy.