Free The Best of Connie Willis by Connie Willis Page B

to see the lights on the wing even in the fog. That’s what they’re there for, so you can see the plane in the fog. The people on the ship didn’t realize they were dead at first. It was only when they started noticing little things that weren’t quite right that they began to wonder.
    “ ‘A guide is recommended,’ ” Zoe reads.
    I have meant to frighten Lissa, but I have only managed to frighten myself. We are beginning our descent, that’s all, I tell myself, and flying through a cloud. And that must be right.
    Because here we are in Cairo.
    Chapter Two: Arriving at the Airport
    “So this is Cairo?” Zoe’s husband says, looking around. The plane has stopped at the end of the runway and deplaned us onto the asphalt by means of a metal stairway.
    The terminal is off to the east, a low building with palm trees around it, and the Japanese tour group sets off toward it immediately, shouldering their carry-on bags and camera cases.
    We do not have any carry-ons. Since we always have to wait at the baggage claim for Zoe’s guidebooks anyway, we check our carry-ons, too. Every time we do it, I am convinced they will go to Tokyo or disappear altogether, but now I’m glad we don’t have to lug them all the way to the terminal. It looks like it is miles away, and the Japanese are already slowing.
    Zoe is reading the guidebook. The rest of us stand around her, looking impatient. Lissa has caught the heel of her sandal in one of the metal steps coming down and is leaning against Neil.
    “Did you twist it?” Neil asks anxiously.
    The flight attendants clatter down the steps with their navy blue overnight cases. They still look nervous. At the bottom of the stairs they unfold wheeled metal carriers and strap the overnight cases to them and set off for the terminal. After a few steps they stop, and one of them takes off her jacket and drapes it over the wheeled carrier, and they start off again, walking rapidly in their high heels.
    It is not as hot as I expected, even though the distant terminal shimmers in the heated air rising from the asphalt. There is no sign of theclouds we flew through, just a thin white haze, which disperses the sun’s light into an even glare. We are all squinting. Lissa lets go of Neil’s arm for a second to get her sunglasses out of her bag.
    “What do they drink around here?” Lissa’s husband asks, squinting over Zoe’s shoulder at the guidebook. “I want a drink.”
    “The local drink is zibib,” Zoe says. “It’s like ouzo.” She looks up from the guidebook. “I think we should go see the Pyramids.” The professional tour guide strikes again.
    “Don’t you think we’d better take care of first things first?” I say. “Like customs? And picking up our luggage?”
    “And finding a drink of … what did you call it? Zibab?” Lissa’s husband says.
    “No,” Zoe says. “I think we should do the Pyramids first. It’ll take an hour to do the baggage claim and customs, and we can’t take our luggage with us to the Pyramids. We’ll have to go to the hotel, and by that time everyone will be out there. I think we should go right now.” She gestures at the terminal. “We can run out and see them and be back before the Japanese tour group’s even through customs.”
    She turns and starts walking in the opposite direction from the terminal, and the others straggle obediently after her.
    I look back at the terminal. The flight attendants have passed the Japanese tour group and are nearly to the palm trees.
    “You’re going the wrong way,” I say to Zoe. “We’ve got to go to the terminal to get a taxi.”
    Zoe stops. “A taxi?” she says. “What for? They aren’t far. We can walk it in fifteen minutes.”
    “Fifteen minutes?” I say. “Giza’s nine miles west of Cairo. You have to cross the Nile to get there.”
    “Don’t be silly,” she says, “they’re right there,” and points in the direction she was walking, and there, beyond the asphalt in an