"No," Karla said, amazingly calm in spite of her unbounded excitement. "They're dwarf mammoths."
"That can't be. Mammoths are extinct."
"I know, but look closely." She pointed the flashlight at the animals. A few of them glanced at the light, showing shiny round eyes of an amber hue. "Elephants don't have fur like that."
"This is impossible," Schroeder said as if he were having a hard time convincing himself.
"Not entirely. Traces of dwarf mammoths were found on Wrangel Island as recently as 2000 B.C. That's only a blip in time. But you're right about this being unbelievable. The closest I've come to these creatures has been the fossilized bones of their ancestors."
Schroeder said, "Why don't they run away?"
The mammoths seemed to have been sleeping when they were disturbed by the human intruders, but they weren't alarmed. They moved around the square in singles, twosomes or small groups, and showed little or no curiosity at the strangers.
"They don't think we'll hurt them," Karla said. "They've probably never seen humans before. My guess is that they ev
olved from the full-grown animals that we saw in the murals. They've adjusted to the lack of sunlight and food through generations."
Schroeder gazed at the herd of pigmy mammoths and said, "Karla, how do they live?"
"There's an air supply. Maybe it seeps down from the ceiling, or through crevasses we don't know about. Maybe they've learned to hibernate to preserve food."
"Yes, yes, but what do they eat?"
She glanced around. "There must be a source somewhere. Maybe they get out into the open. Wait! Maybe that's what happened to the so-called baby that the expedition found. It was looking for food."
"We must try to find out where they go," Schroeder said. He made his way to the pyramid with Karla close behind. The mammoths moved aside to create a path. Some were slow to get out of the way and brushed against the humans, who had to wind their way through piles of manure. They reached the pyramid steps and began to climb. The effort put pressure on Schroeder's weak ankle, and he had to climb on his hands and knees, but he made it slowly to the flat top of the structure.
The elevation offered a total view of the square. The animals were still milling around with no rhyme nor reason to their movements.
Karla was counting the animals and figured there were about two hundred of them. Schroeder had been scanning the disorganized mob with other goals in mind, and, after a few minutes, he saw what he was looking for.
"Look," he said. "The mammoths are forming into a loose queue over there near that corner of the plaza."
Karla looked at where Schroeder was pointing. The herding animals had squeezed into a street as if suddenly inspired by a common purpose. Other mammoths began to follow, and soon the whole group was moving toward the same part of the square. With Karla helping him, Schroeder climbed off the pyramid and hobbled after the departing herd.
By the time they got to the corner, the entire herd had vanished from the square and was moving slowly along a narrow street that led back to the main boulevard. They tried not to startle the animals, although that didn't seem to be a danger. The mammoths seemed to have accepted the newcomers as part of the herd.
After about ten minutes, they began to see a change in the character of the city. Some of the houses on both sides were damaged. Their walls were knocked in as if hit by a rogue bulldozer. Eventually, they came to an area that looked as if it had been bombed. There were no freestanding buildings, only glowing piles of rubble intermingled with huge boulders made of a different, nonluminous mineral.
The sight revived unpleasant memories for Schroeder. He stopped to give his ankle a rest and looked around at the ruined landscape. "This reminds me of Berlin at the end of World War Two. Come. We must hurry or we'll lose them."
Karla dodged a pile of manure. "I don't think we'll have to worry about that with the trail they're leaving."
Schroeder's deep laughter echoed off the walls of rubble that now arose high on both sides. Karla joined in despite her weariness and fears, but they picked up the pace more in eagerness to find a way out than concern at losing the herd.
More of the rock they were seeing was composed of nonglowing material. Then all trace of the luminescent rock disappeared and the path in front of them darkened. Karla turned the flashlight on, and its dim beam caught the tails of the mammoths. The creatures had no trouble navigating the darkness. Karla guessed that their eyes must have adjusted to the lack of light in the same way their bodies had shrunk to accommodate a diminishing supply of food.
Then the flashlight went dead. They followed the herd by listening to the scuffle of the many feet, and the chorus of grunts and snorts. The complete blackness assumed a bluer cast that slowly changed to dark gray. They could see the furry rumps about fifty feet ahead. The animals seemed to have picked up their pace. The grayness turned to white. The path made a right, then a left-hand turn, and they were out in the open, blinking their eyes against the sunlight.
The mammoths rambled ahead, but the two humans stopped and shielded their eyes with their hands. As their vision acclimated to the change in light, they looked at their surroundings through narrowed eyes. They had emerged from a gap in a low bluff and were at the edge of a natural bowl several hundred yards across. The mammoths hungrily grazed the short grassy vegetation that covered the bowl's floor.
"This is quite amazing," Karla said. "These creatures have adjusted to two worlds: one of darkness, the other of light. They are miracles of adaptation as well as anachronisms."
"Yes, very interesting," Schroeder said in a disinterested voice.
He wasn't being rude, only practical. He realized that they were far from safe. Their pursuers could be on their heels. He scanned the wall of massive, blackened boulders surrounding the natural basin and suggested that they make their way to the perimeter to look for a way out.
Karla was reluctant to leave the herd of mammoths, but she climbed with Schroeder up a gradually ascending hill to the edge of the boulder field. The rocks ranged in size from some as big as cars to others nearly as big as a house. They were tumbled in heaps more than a hundred feet high, in some cases. Some of the massive rocks were piled so tightly together that it would have been impossible to slip a knife blade between them.