He looked down at the woman whose red lips said, "Enkidu, come with me. Ask no questions."
Her hands tugged on Enkidu's mighty arm, pulling him toward the bird out of which the man had come..
And that man was running toward them, gesticulating, yelling; "Tamara, come on! Bring him or forget him. Time's up," in English.
The woman jerked hard on Enkidu's arm and pleaded with him, saying, "Enkidu, my hero, you are not afraid of that chariot without horses, are you? Come with me, where wonders abound, if you are brave. But if you are a coward, kiss me goodbye and stay behind!"
Her blond hair whipped around her face in the gale as her pale eyes searched his for an answer and behind them, the once-proud dog began to howl.
"But Gilgamesh ..." Enkidu shouted back as the man stopped and waved again-a man dressed in the colors of the land and with furrows on his brow, a man as tall as Gilgamesh and as bold, for he had come from the belly of the bird.
"Enkidu," pleaded the woman, releasing his arm and running toward the other man. Halfway there, she halted and looked back: "Enkidu, come! Let me save your life!"
The man beyond the woman wore weapons about his person, fine weapons of the most powerful kind. In one hand he held a plasma rifle; around his neck hung far-seeing goggles.
His other hand was outstretched, beckoning Enkidu with a gesture all men understood. Then he grabbed for the woman and jerked her abruptly toward him.
Words were exchanged between them and the man dragged the caravan woman away, toward the belly of the bird while, all around, the caravanners huddled in fear and none lifted a hand to help her.
Behind Enkidu, under the wagon, her dog began to Keen.
Enkidu ran toward the black bird with wide strides, strides that ate up the distance and brought him to the bird's side as the other man and the woman reached it. There the noise was too great for speech and the wind too fierce for open eyes. Squinting, Enkidu saw the woman clamber up into the dark belly of the bird and reach back with her white arm, her fine fingers outstretched to him.
Her mouth was open. She was calling his name. She wanted him to jump into the belly of the bird with her.
And while all the people and the dog with whom he'd just argued were watching, Enkidu made his decision.
He went up to the bird. He touched the bird's side, and found it to be metal.
He grabbed the bird's feet, and found handholds there.
He climbed into the bird of metal, into the dark and stinking shadows of its belly, and there he took the woman in his arms.
"Nice job, Tanya," said the man who wore the colors of the land. "Better get him away from the window. He's not going to like the rest of this."
The woman from the caravan cooed at Enkidu and pulled him gently toward a couch among a magical wall of temple lights while, outside, the noise became unbearable.
Enkidu jumped up from the couch and ran to the place where he'd entered the belly of the bird, but there was no opening there. He ran along the wall until he came to a window, and there he paused.
Outside, the ground was becoming tiny and on it people were falling. From their bodies, blood was pouring. From the wagons, flame was spouting. From his vantage in the belly of the bird rising up into the sky, Enkidu could see it all.
And he could separate the sounds now, those he heard. One sound was that of the bird rising toward the sky, but the other sound was more terrible. The other sound was that of chain guns and cannon, of automatic-weapons fire strafing the caravanners' camp below.
When the bird had risen high enough, Enkidu glimpsed the island where Gilgamesh had gone. It was beautiful and magical and colored like a rainbow; in its center the mouth of a demon belched smoke and fire.
Enkidu felt remorse that Gilgamesh was not with him, in the belly of the bird.
But the caravan woman was telling him how lucky he was to be alive, and how many wonders he would see when the bird reached its destination.
"And weapons, Enkidu, such as you have never had in your hands," said the woman called Tanya.
"But what of Gilgamesh?" said Enkidu. "My friend Gilgamesh was to come back for me, and we were to enter the city together."
"You're lucky you're alive, buddy," said a man whose torso was black to the tops of his arms.
"Stay away from drug runners in future. As for your friend, Gil,"--the; man bared the perfect white teeth of the New Dead-
"Reassignments'll decide when and whether you hook up with him again, because that's where you re going, Mister-Reassignments in New Hell." As he said this, the man took out a pistol and began fondling it. Behind him, Enkidu could see shifting lights and glowing oblongs, like windows into other worlds.
"Reassignments?" asked Enkidu with a frown.
"Nichols!" protested the woman from the caravan at the same time. Then she put her hand upon Enkidu and began to soothe him, promising all and everything she could do to make life better for him in a strange new land.
When Gilgamesh was put ashore by the dolphin-prowed boat of the Pompeiians, he looked everywhere along the beach for Enkidu and did not find him. So Gilgamesh trekked up the shore, toward the caravan's encampment, where Enkidu surely must have gone.
Joy was in Gilgamesh's heart. He was anxious to find Enkidu and tell him of die wonders he had seen.
Behind him, the boat awaited, compliments of Sulla, Pompeii's ruler, to bring both heroes over the water to the city.
Gilgamesh had learned that Pompeii had not always been an island; parts of its shoreline were now submerged, a danger to ships. This Sulla was a Roman who had designated the city a colony for his war-weary veterans. There were many heroes on the island, and people of magical inclination like Greeks and
Etruscans as well.
Quickly did Gilgamesh stride the distance to the camp, imagining the joy in Enkidu's face when he told him of the warm welcome they would receive in the city.
And when Gilgamesh told him another thing: this Sulla had said to Gilgamesh, "Gilgamesh, great king of Uruk? What are you doing so far from home?"
In the eyes of this Sulla, a Roman of soldierly bearing with a head nearly bereft of hair, had been no treachery, only a politician's caution.
Startled, Gilgamesh had replied, "What do you mean; Sulla? Uruk is lost to the ages. I have not seen its streets or slept in its fortress since I... died there." A sadness was in his voice, thinking of lost Uruk, the city of his life.
At that, Sulla queried him piercingly until, satisfied that Gilgamesh spoke the truth, he said, "I believe you, Gilgamesh. There is a false lord in Uruk, then-or another lord, at any rate. My men are tired, hiding on this island, of small squabbles and small adventures'.
Should you and your friend, Enlddu, decide to return to Uruk, to regain your rightful places there, I might be persuaded to help you.' And then a canny glimmer came into the eyes of Sulla.
"Of course, we would have to know just where in the land this Uruk lies."
So Gilgamesh had replied truthfully that he did not know where in all the land Uruk was situated, that he had never come upon it in his wanderings.
And the Roman had told him then of the fabled treasures of long-lost Uruk, and offered again to help him find his home.
Such good news did Gilgamesh have for Enkidu, that he did not notice the quiet until he was upon the very camp itself.
There he saw scattered bodies, ruined wagons, and such destruction as made him cover up his eyes.
Taking his hands away, Gilgamesh ran through the camp, calling out for Enkidu.
But Enkidu was nowhere in the camp. It was if the ground had swallowed him up, as if the demons had taken him, as if he had never been. Body after body did Gilgamesh turn face up in the dirt, but none of these were Enkidu.
After many lamentations, when Gilgamesh was exhausted in his grief, he sank down beside the ruined red-and-yellow wagon of the woman Enkidu had loved.