Enter Indiana Jones: archaeologist, adventurer, and reluctant hero. He hadn't come looking for cults or missing children. He was chasing a rare Nurhachi urn for a Shanghai crime lord—until a poisoned dart and a narrow escape from a nightclub shootout sent him, singer Willie Scott, and his young sidekick Short Round fleeing into the unknown. Their plane, supplied by a shady pilot, turned out to belong to a jungle smuggling ring. They jumped. They survived. And they stumbled into Mayapore.
The missing villagers? Captured and forced into slave labor in the mines below the temple. The missing children? Brainwashed in a torchlit chamber, chanting "Kali maa" over and over, their young faces hollow. temple of doom
Below the palace was a nightmare. A vast Thuggee lair carved into volcanic rock, lit by torches and the glow of molten ore. In the center stood a giant stone statue of Kali—four arms, fanged mouth, necklace of skulls—and before her, an altar. On that altar lay one of the Sankara stones , glowing faintly. Their plane, supplied by a shady pilot, turned
Indy pulled down his fedora. "Now," he said, "we get out of here before someone tries to feed us to another giant bug." And they stumbled into Mayapore