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  The darkness outside seemed less intense, although the full moon was now two nights past. He paused for a moment at the entrance gate, waiting for the soldiers on guard to open it, then set off west, toward the jet-black hills which gently swallowed him whole.

  * * *

  He walked for a long time, gripped by the sharp stomachache and cramps in his back. The sand stretched beneath his feet in dips and rises that periodically caught him off-balance, making him stumble and nearly trip. Despite this he pressed on into the darkness, while every so often, from between the folds of night, distant wailing sounds floated up, until a steep decline took him by surprise and tossed him to the bottom of the slope.

  When the sand finally stopped dragging him down, he tried to stand, but severe cramps in his feet and hands dropped him back to the ground. He shifted the position of his body slightly, so that he was more or less seated, then inhaled deeply. This calmed his shaky breathing, but did not ease the tightness in his chest.

  He remained still, his eyes fixed on the expanses extending before him and sated by the darkness. His left hand rested on his thigh, feeling the bite through the fabric of his pants. His heart had been beating so hard while he was falling that it had felt like he was choking, but after several minutes it slowed to its usual pace. He turned his head to the right, then to the left. He was alone among the hills. He lifted his gaze to the stars scattered across the sky, then to the peaks of the hills, and to the moon carving a path between them, toward the dark line of the western horizon.

  He lifted his hand from his leg, placed it beside him on the sand and pressed himself up. Immediately, he lost his balance and almost fell, but he caught himself and managed to stay upright. He headed directly for the hill that rose before him, and when he reached it he began to climb, letting darkness fill his eyes until he reached the top. And there at the summit he stood for some time, gazing out into the darkness enveloping him. Intermittent wailing sounds brushed his ears, hesitantly, and the hills echoed the sound, making it impossible to determine which direction it was coming from. They seemed to be part of the darkness that crouched on the sandy expanses unfolding in every direction. Then he continued walking.

  * * *

  He kept walking until the end of night, when the darkness began to dissolve and the folds of the hills were revealed under the light of dawn. By then the air still held a slight chill, which penetrated his clothes and crept into his body, stinging his bones. He was seized by a sudden tremor that made his body shake violently and his breathing become heavy again, forcing him to stop walking. He tried to draw a slow breath, but his throat abruptly released a cough and a belch, jerking his head down, and he began vomiting.

  When the bout of nausea ended, he gripped the water bottle hanging from his waist with trembling hands, removed the cap, brought it to his lips and rinsed his mouth several times. He spat, and calmed down slightly, as the sounds coming from behind the hills returned, now louder than before. It was as if the dawn light had suddenly eliminated the distance between them. His breath became strained again, his body trembled and he quickly moved his gaze across the desolate hills besieging him from all sides. Then he set off directly toward the sounds, which were growing louder and louder, as were his heartbeats as he got closer, until it was finally possible to distinguish some of these sounds. At that point he stopped walking for a few moments. Then, despite the shivering that had overtaken him, he started up again, marching toward the sounds, which, in the end, turned out to be nothing more than the soldiers in his platoon. Fifteen minutes was all it took to return to the camp which he had left several hours before.

  * * *

  The faint light of early morning shrouded the hilltops surrounding the camp. The soldiers had just awoken and were milling around; some were emerging from tents or disappearing inside them, while others took a place in the queue by the water tank, towels draped over their shoulders or around their necks, waiting for their turn to use the tap. When he walked through the main gate, and past them toward his hut, each soldier straightened up and deftly raised his right hand to his head, eyes fixed forward, to salute him.

  A warm darkness lurked inside the hut. He closed the door behind him and approached the table, removed his magazine pouch and set it down, then went over to the bed, leaned his gun against the wall to its right and sat down. He stayed there for a while, immobile, as the darkness receded and the room’s contours gradually became clear. The cramps had settled into every part of his body. He slowly bent down to his feet and began removing his boots, which the dusty sand had turned from brown to pale yellow. He picked up the boots with both hands and rose with an effort that made him wince, then went to the door, opened it, stood just outside the hut’s entrance and began beating the boots together, gradually creating a halo of dust. After that, he went back inside, pushed his boots under the chair, took off his shirt and pants and put them over the back of the chair, then walked over to the bed, sat down on the edge and stared at the bandage covering the bite on his left thigh. The yellow ointment had seeped through to the surface of the white gauze. He lifted his head and let his eyes wander around the room, avoiding the morning light where it pierced through the cracks. When he finished inspecting the room, he eased himself onto the bed and lay down. Immediately black dots began dancing before his eyes, followed by the objects in the room, starting with the table, then the magazine pouch, then the trunk, the bowl, the nails in the wall, his clothes on the chair, then his boots underneath it; patches of light splintered across the roof panels and the door, then the camp, the dark dunes, the slope he fell down and the sand he tried to hold onto, then the moon, the dim horizon, his clothes on the chair, the nails in the wall, and the bandage as he unwound it from his leg. Then he leapt up from the bed. He sat back down. The bandage was still in place. After a long moment, he brought his hand to the bandage and began to unravel it. With every half wrap, one hand took the strip of gauze from the other hand, and each time the ointment’s yellow hue reappeared in a certain spot, each time the color was stronger than the last, until he had undone the whole strip of gauze. And when he turned his gaze to the bite itself, he leapt from the bed, head up, and swallowed quickly several times. He looked at the strip of gauze dangling from his right hand. Aside from traces of ointment dotting its length, several sections of the fabric were disfigured. He crossed the room to the table, set the gauze down next to the magazine pouch, then lowered his head and examined the swelling on his thigh. It was filled with pus in the center, and ringed with a red circle, then a blue circle, then black.

  He used half of the water left in the jerry can to wash his body, then selected a clean set of clothes from his bag, and took out a new roll of gauze, cotton, antiseptic, and a bottle of ointment from the trunk. He poured antiseptic onto the cotton and cleaned the swollen area carefully, then dipped his index finger into the ointment and rubbed it over the bite. He repeated the procedure a second time, then a third, and a fourth, until the ointment nearly concealed the swelling. After bandaging the area with the new roll of gauze, he put on clean clothes and his boots, then sat down on the edge of the bed and surrendered his ears to the sounds coming from outside, joining him in the feeble darkness that spread to every corner of the room.

  Outside, the camp filled with the clamor of the soldiers’ energetic movements, an occurrence that normally took place twice a day, at daybreak and nightfall, when cooler temperatures allowed them to engage in drills and to move around camp. Suddenly, he leapt from his position on the bed, crossed to a corner of the room and opened his eyes as far as his swollen eyelids allowed. He stood staring at the spot where the wall met the ceiling. A short while later, he walked to the door and opened it as wide as it would go; sharp daylight fell onto the threshold, but advanced no further to illuminate the hut’s dark interior, while the voices of soldiers coming from the direction of the tents grew louder. He went back to the corner he had been inspecting and stood under it, bringing his face as close as possible, and scrutinized it again. But he did not continue this for long. After a few moments he bowed his head and began rubbing his neck, blinking intensely. He went back to the corner of the room nearest to the door and bent down. He crouched there, inspecting a particular area for a while, then turned his gaze to the corner where his belongings were stacked, and crawled toward it. When he reached the trunk, he dragged it toward him and looked behind. A slender-legged spider was clinging to the other side. He reached out with his right hand and crushed it, then crawled on toward the bed. A few small spiders nestled underneath it, and, next to them, a dead gray beetle, suspended in a web spun with their fine threads, all of which he smashed with his boots as he swept them out. He bent down again and brought his head close to the floor, inspecting it slowly. Then, without warning, he jumped around different parts of the room, crushing several small insects that were crawling on the floor.

  He continued his patrol of the room, now unhurriedly combing the walls with his eyes. Two spiders and a moth; he eradicated them, then climbed onto the table, raised his head toward the ceiling and fixed his gaze on the previous corner when dark dots and lines began careening before his eyes, followed by absolute blackness. He lost his balance and nearly fell, so he quickly jumped down, pulled out a chair and collapsed into it. Then he rested his head on the edge of the table and squeezed his reddening eyelids shut.

  Meanwhile, a little insect advanced toward the edge of the room and slipped through a crack between the floor and the wall, escaping into the gap.

  After a while, he opened his eyes and began to blink, then lifted his head, brought his palms to his face and pressed them to his temples, his expression grim. At that moment, sounds of camels groaning and dogs barking infiltrated the s
pace, but the sound of soldiers training and moving around the camp soon prevailed over them. He shut his eyes again. And he remained seated, surrounded by various sounds, each a different volume, tone and distance away, on that early morning, August 12, 1949.

  * * *

  Before long, he was climbing into the vehicle along with two sergeants and three soldiers. His gaze followed his right foot as it ascended the vehicle’s step, lifted into the air and came to rest on the floor beneath the front seat, where he sank his body. To his left was the gear shift and the five dials whose hands trembled nervously, and then the black dots returned, veiling his vision for several seconds before fading, then returning again for longer.

  They departed this time without opening the maps they usually studied before setting off on a patrol. Instead, he instructed the driver to head toward a certain location. “To that hill,” he said curtly, aiming his hand at a ridge which was inscribed into the line of the horizon.

  The vehicle’s wheels devoured the sand beneath them and sprayed it ferociously into the air, transforming it into long clouds of dust that lingered behind the vehicle as usual, as they gazed at the hills that rose tirelessly on both sides of the path. Yet no sooner had they arrived at the hill he had led them to than he pointed at another, which lay on the horizon directly ahead. And so in this way they continued their patrol, moving between the hilltops, until they paused at one to inspect some tracks on the sand.

  Once the engine’s roar had fallen quiet and they had stepped down from the vehicle, an almost absolute calm settled upon the place, aside from the muffled sounds made by their steps on the sand as they carried out their search. When they had finished, they drank some water, returned to the vehicle and prepared to set off again, to “that hill” at which he aimed his hand from the passenger seat, before drawing a breath so deep it forced him to close his eyes. And when he opened them again, the hill he had pointed toward was obscured by black dots that leaped before his eyes like mad insects, and he raised his arm sharply, palm outstretched, making the soldiers fall silent immediately. After a moment he gestured to the driver to start the engine, but before he did, the sound of a dog barking floated up through the air.

  * * *

  Thorn acacia and terebinth trees appeared in the distance, preceded by cane grass, where a shallow spring skulked between the slender stalks. As soon as the vehicle stopped, he hopped from his seat and began running in the direction of the trees, taking a sandy slope that gently propelled him down, while the rest of the group followed after him. But he did not look back at them; his gaze was fixed only on the clump of trees ahead, where the sounds of a dog howling and camels groaning rose from behind their branches. When his feet landed at the base of the slope, he headed toward the vegetation, penetrating the branches, which quickly yielded to reveal a band of Arabs standing motionless by the spring. His eyes met their wide eyes, and the eyes of the startled camels, which hopped up and trotted a few steps away the moment the dog let out a howl. Then came the sound of heavy gunfire.

  * * *

  The dog’s howling finally stopped, and a degree of calm settled over the place. Now the only sound was the muffled weeping of a girl who had curled up inside her black clothes like a beetle, and the rustle of thorn acacia, terebinth leaves, and cane grass as the soldiers moved through the spot of green surrounded by endless, barren sand dunes, combing the area for weapons, while he stood there and inspected some manure. Then he walked around the camels lying on the ground, which resembled small hills covered in dry grass. There were six of them. And although they were dead, and the sand was languidly sucking their blood into its depths, a few of their limbs still gave off slight movements. His gaze rested on a clutch of dry grass lying by the mouth of one camel; it had been ripped up by the roots, which still held suspended grains of sand.

  They found no weapons. The two sergeants and soldiers combed the area several times, to no avail. Eventually he turned to the still-moaning black mass and lunged at her, grabbing her with both hands and shaking her vigorously. The dog barked louder, and she wailed louder, and the sounds merged as he pushed the girl’s head into the ground, clamping his right hand over her mouth, and her sticky saliva, mucus, and tears stuck to his hand. Her smell invaded his nose, forcing him to avert his head. But a moment later he turned back toward her, then brought his other hand to his mouth, raising his index finger to his lips, and stared directly into her eyes.

  * * *

  When they returned to the camp, most of the soldiers were sitting in the narrow strips of shade alongside the tents, and when the girl and dog were taken down from the back of the vehicle, some soldiers left the shade and approached. He shifted his gaze from the tents to the sand, whose surface reflected the dazzling prenoon sun, then to the vehicle, which shone varying degrees of light into his eyes, prompting again the sight of black and gray dots, intensified by the flies hovering around them. At last his gaze settled on his deputy, who was asking him what they should do with the girl. For a few moments he said nothing. His jaws were stuck together so he lowered his head, closed his eyes, and took a few shallow breaths. He replied that they should put her in the other hut for the time being and assign a soldier to guard her. They would decide what to do with her later. In any case, they could not set her free in this desolate place. When he raised his head again, he looked at the soldiers who were now gathered around them and said in a clear, threatening voice not to go near the girl. Then he left them and headed for his hut.

  As soon as he stepped inside, he went to the bed and lay down, closed his swollen eyelids, and was overtaken by a deep slumber.

  * * *

  He opened his eyes, slowly and carefully moved from his position, and sat on the edge of the bed. After a moment, he raised his left hand to his face and wiped his cheeks with his palm, then stood up, walked to the door, and opened it wide. Light entered the dim space of the hut, sneaking around his body when he peered from the doorway to inspect the area. He had not slept for long, at least not enough for the shadows to recede and expose more sand. He turned and went back inside, then began circling the room, combing the walls and corners and ceiling with his eyes. He caught the movement of three delicate spiders, which he crushed at once with his hand. Then he went to the corner where his belongings were stacked, poured some water into the tin bowl, and took his shaving kit and a little mirror out of the trunk. He hung the mirror on one of the nails and contemplated his reflection. Over the past three days, his skin had become darker in some places and redder in others, especially around the eyelids, despite how careful he had been to always wear his cap, which had left a clear mark across his forehead.

  He put a little shaving soap on his cheeks and chin, wet the brush with clean water from the bowl, raised it to his face, and began moving it in circles until his skin appeared pure white. Then, he began removing the soap suds with the razor, first from his cheeks, then his neck. By the end of every stroke, suds clung to the razor, the color gradually shifting from white to light brown as they mixed with stubble from his blond beard, which resembled grains of sand. Then he drew the razor along the edge of the bowl, removing the last of the suds, which slowly slid down the bowl until they reached the water’s surface, where they floated and gently began to dissolve.