Atlantis

PROLOGUE
Indiana Jones was in a tight spot. Literally. The passage was dark
and cool, its walls pressing against his shoulders with a vise-like
grip. Unfortunately he didn’t have his leather jacket for protection.
Indy moved awkwardly in the confines of the narrow space,
crawling on his knees, pulling himself forward with one hand
while aiming a thick electric flashlight into the inky darkness. Its
weak, flickering beam illuminated only a couple feet ahead to
reveal a featureless ribbon of ground that seemed to stretch away
into infinity. The batteries were almost depleted, but he hoped that
they would hold out long enough for him to reach the other end of
the tunnel, otherwise he would be forced to navigate in the dark.
He was pressed for time, facing dire consequences. If he didn’t
return with the idol, Marcus Brody was as good as dead.
“Come on, just a little further,” Indy muttered to himself in the
dusty silence. Sweat beaded on his brow and trickled into his eyes.
Indy squinted against the salty sting, but couldn’t pause to wipe his
face. He had to keep moving. Suddenly he stumbled over a
protrusion on the floor, jarring his elbow roughly against the wall.
The flashlight clattered to the ground, blinked out, plunging him
into a pitch-black cocoon of darkness. “Damn it,” he cursed,
patting around on the floor until he found it again. Indy thumbed
the switch on and off repeatedly with no effect. He thumped the
end of it against the ground in frustration, and the beam stuttered
back to life. “Good. Now stay on.”
“Do you see anything yet, Jones?” The muffled voice echoed
through the passageway. Evidently Mr. Smith was not a patient
man, and Indy knew that he couldn’t afford to keep the tall, blondhaired
stranger with the indeterminate accent waiting much longer.
“Not yet,” he called back over his shoulder.