Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark

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Suddenly the night was filled with fire rockets that screamed out of the Ark, pil­lars of flame that stunned the darkness, outreaches of fire searing the heavens. A white circle of light made a flashing ring around the island, a light that made the ocean glow and whipped up currents of spray, forcing a broken tide to rise upward in the dark.

The light, it was the light of the first day of the universe, the light of newness, of things freshly born, it was the light that God made: the light of creation.

1: South America, 1936

The jungle was darkly verdant, secretive, menacing. What little sunlight broke the high barriers of branches and twisted vines was pale, milky in color. The air, sticky and solid, created a wall of humidity. Birds screamed in panic, as if they had been unexpectedly trapped in some huge net. Glittering insects scurried underfoot, animals chattered and squealed in the foli­age. In its primitive quality the place might have been a lost terrain, a point unmapped, untraveled-the end of the world.

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