The jeep drove off. The roar of its engine was gone. A breeze arose from the north. The desert darkened. At long last he was truly alone.

18

Night fell. The tepid desert breeze blew salty dust from north to south. The first stars were out, though a trace of light still lingered on the ridge line. A far-off scent of smoke tickled his nostrils and was gone. Yonatan stood on the embankment bent beneath his burden, as if waiting for someone to join him. He had a long pee, filled his lungs with air, and noted with satisfaction that he had not had a cigarette in nearly forty hours. He loaded his rifle with one of his three ammunition clips and slipped the other two into his trousers. It pleased him to think that never before had he been so utterly alone, so far from another living soul. Even Ein-Husub suddenly seemed a wearisome, noisy place of onerous chores. But that was all over with. The loudmouthed old man as well. It’s all over with, he kept repeating to himself as if it were a password. Far ahead, in the mountains that rimmed the sky to the east, a weak light flickered. A Jordanian outpost? A Bedouin encampment? There lay the Land of Edom. The Kingdom of Transjordan. The city half as old as time. The enemy’s home.

Not a sound to be heard. Trying the depth of silence, Yonatan said, “Silence.”

A milky vapor swirled at his feet. The breeze died down. A car sped by on the road behind. The noise of its engine roused him to action.

“Let’s go. Now.”

At the sound of the words his legs began to move. So light were his strides that he could barely sense them. Despite his load, his movements were silken. The soles of his paratrooper boots were Mercury’s sandals. A slow, caressing relief spread through his limbs. Even the sweat on his brow felt pleasant, like a cool touch. The very ground he was treading seemed no harder than a carpet of ash left from a whirlwind of fire. Almost magically he was swept eastward, emptied of thought, emptied of longing, in the thrall of ecstasy. His potent muscles sang as they bore him along, wafting him on air.

Who’s calling me? I’m coming. Didn’t I always say I would? To another country? To a huge, mysterious city? And study and work and meet enchanting women and sit behind blinking panels? But who needs the women and the panels. I have my freedom. I have what I want and I don’t give a damn. Let those Bedouin jump me right now. Who cares? I’ll put my rifle on automatic and mow them all down. Tak-tak-tak-tak.