"Enough talk. We've got to get moving," Schroeder said.
Clutching Karla by the arm, he limped toward the edge of the bowl. Austin and Zavala took up the rear. Schroeder's insistence that they start moving proved to be sound advice. The group had almost reached the edge of the green area when Grisha and his men suddenly broke from their rocky cover and began firing their guns.
Fountains of dirt erupted in the grass about a dozen feet behind the fleeing group.
It would take only a second for Grisha and his men to get the range. Austin yelled at the others to keep going. He turned and threw himself belly-down on the ground and took careful aim with his Bowen at the nearest Russian.
He cracked off a couple of shots that fell short. Grisha and his men were taking no chances. When Austin fired, they stopped shooting and went belly-down as well.
Austin turned and saw that the others were nearly at the face of the bluff. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted after them. Grisha's men started shooting again. The bullets were practically hitting the ground at his heels as he ducked the others into an opening in the face of the cliff.
Karla shook her flashlight, and the batteries apparently still had a little juice left in them because the bulb glowed dimly. They picked their way through the winding path. When the flashlight finally sputtered and died, they had entered the area where some buildings still stood among the rubble and were beginning to see the glow from the underground city. They followed the beckoning light like moths toward a flame and soon came upon the subterranean metropolis.
Austin gazed at the shimmering streets and buildings.
"What is this place, the land of Oz?" he said.
Karla laughed. "It's an underground city built of some sort of light-producing mineral," Karla said. "We don't know who built it, but these are only the suburbs. It's quite extensive."
Schroeder hushed Karla and said they could talk about it later, and then he led the way through the maze of streets until they were back at the plaza where they had first come upon the mammoths.
The dwarf mammoths had returned to the plaza and were huddled around the pyramid. They seemed restive, snorting frequently as they milled around the square.
Karla saw Austin reach for his gun. She put her hand on his arm. "It's all right. They won't hurt you. They must have been spooked by the noise."
Austin had seen many strange sights on missions that took him to remote places around the world and under the oceans. But nothing like the creatures moving around the plaza. He was looking at smaller versions, from the tips of their tails to their curved tusks, of the ancient behemoths he had seen pictured in textbooks.
Zavala was equally dumbfounded. "I thought these things were extinct."
"They are extinct," Karla said. "Rather, they were. These animals are the descendants of full-size mammoths that once lived on the island."
"Karla," Schroeder said. "We should be talking about how to get away from those murderers."
"He's right," Austin said. "Is there another way out of here?"
"Yes, but it's long and treacherous," Karla said.
"I can't make it, but that's no reason for you not to try," Schroeder said. "If I can borrow a gun, I'll pin them down here while you and our new friends escape through the cave."
Austin grinned. "Nice try, Uncle Karl. Martyrdom went out of style in the Middle Ages. We're sticking together."
"I'm just starting to like this place," Joe said. "Warm. Romantic lighting. A unique, uh, fragrance in the air."
Schroeder smiled. He didn't know who these men were, but he was glad for Karla's sake that he had them by his side. "If you are going to be foolish, we'd better get ready."
At Austin's suggestion, Zavala went to stand watch where the street entered the plaza.
Austin turned to Schroeder. "Any suggestions?"
"It's useless to run. We can take positions in the square and try to get them in a cross fire."
Austin was glad Schroeder wanted to go on the offensive. The city provided a protective maze that offered dozens of places to hide, but, like Schroeder, he knew that the constant movement would eventually take its toll.
"I don't know how much firing I'll be doing," Austin said. "We brought extra ammunition, but we didn't expect the Little Bighorn."
"They only have to wait until we run out of ammunition and they can pick us off one by one. Too bad I used my hand grenade."
Austin gave Schroeder an odd look. The old man didn't look like the type who walked around with a grenade in his pocket. Austin was reminded that looks were deceiving. Schroeder was old enough for Medicare, but he talked as if he were part of a SWAT team.