Then I heard it, and hurried to the third cave, a far larger hollow burnt into a buttress that could have been featured in a Grimm’s fairy tale.

“Oh, God…”

The trap, concealed within the spongy walls of the cave, had sprung the moment the cephaloped had entered. Clam-shaped, constructed of an aero gel polymer vented with quarter-size holes, the pod had slammed so quickly it had sliced off one of the cephaloped’s tentacles just above the fin.

My heart pounded with excitement. Someone … something had used a technology that rivaled my own to construct this trap.

Those thoughts were tempered as I regarded the caged squid. Terrified, it lay curled in a fetal position in a green pool of its own blood. Looking up at me, it appeared to panic.

“Don’t worry, Oscar. I’ll get you out of that thing.” I reached for its center seam—and suddenly my head burst in an explosion of purple lights as an electrical charge flung me outside the cave and nearly over the edge of the redwood’s main limb.

For several minutes I remained on my back, stunned. “What the hell was that?”

ELECTRICAL SHOCK. FIFTEEN THOUSAND VOLTS. RUNNING LEVEL THREE DIAGNOSTIC … RECALCULATING–

“ABE!”

CHRONOMETER … RECALCULATING. AMINO ACID LEVELS—OFF. BLOOD GLUCOSE LEVELS—OFF. SEROTONIN—

“Hold diagnostic.” Regaining my feet, I limped back to the cave. “ABE, analyze that specimen cage and determine how I can open it without harming the creature inside.”

CHRONOMETER … RECALCULATING.

“Enough! You sound like a bad GPS system. Focus on that plastic specimen cage.”

SPECIMEN CAGE IS ELECTRIFIED. LOCATE POWER SOURCE AND DISABLE.

“Power source? Makes sense.” I scanned the outside of the pod, finding nothing. Retrieving a large stick from outside, I wedged the branch beneath its curved bottom.

“Hold on, Oscar.” Using the stick as a fulcrum, I flipped the clear cage onto its side—exposing a toaster-size portable power pack housed within the base. Using the blunt end of the stick, I smashed the assembly until it sparked and short-circuited in a burst of smoke.

The pod cracked. Using both hands, I pried it open.

Too weak to move, the cephaloped remained curled in a ball.

Gently, I reached inside and scooped the invertebrate’s upper torso into my arms and against my chest, straining to lift the three hundred plus pound creature. With no recourse but to drag its tentacles behind me, I carried it to the redwood pond and released it into the water.

Chapter 21

21

If the Earth does grow inhospitable toward human presence, it is primarily because we have lost our sense of courtesy toward the Earth and its inhabitants.

—THOMAS BERRY, Roman Catholic priest

The dying cephaloped sank to the bottom of the redwood pond, bubbles of air trailing from the breathing organ atop its skull.

Realizing too late that the land creature might be in shock and actually drowning, I went in after it. The cold water instantly soothed my own frayed nervous system.