Connie Willis - The Best of Connie Willis

It is not March, or Friday, and even if it were, it is after one P.M. The shadow of Cheops stretches well past where we stand. I look up, trying to see the sun where it must be behind the pyramid, and catch a flicker of movement, high up. It is too large to be a monkey.

“Well, what do we do now?” Zoe’s husband says.

“We could go see the Sphinx,” Zoe muses, looking through the guidebook. “Or we could wait for the Son et Lumière show.”

“No,” I say, thinking of being out here in the dark.

“How do you know that won’t be closed, too?” Lissa asks.

Zoe consults the book. “There are two shows daily, seven-thirty and nine P.M.”

“That’s what you said about the Pyramids,” Lissa says. “ I think we should go back to the airport and get our luggage. I want to get my other shoes.”

“ I think we should go back to the hotel,” Lissa’s husband says, “and have a long, cool drink.”

“We’ll go to Tutankhamun’s tomb,” Zoe says. “It’s open every day, including holidays.” She looks up expectantly.

“King Tut’s tomb?” I say. “In the Valley of the Kings?”

“Yes,” she says, and starts to read. “‘It was found intact in 1922 by Howard Carter. It contained—’”

All the belongings necessary for the deceased’s journey to the afterworld, I think. Sandals and clothes and Egypt Made Easy .

“I’d rather have a drink,” Lissa’s husband says.

“And a nap,” Zoe’s husband says. “You go on, and we’ll meet you at the hotel.”

“I don’t think you should go off on your own,” I say. “I think we should keep together.”

“It will be crowded if we wait,” Zoe says. “I’m going now. Are you coming, Lissa?”

Lissa looks appealingly up at Neil. “I don’t think I’d better walk that far. My ankle’s starting to hurt again.”

Neil looks helplessly at Zoe. “I guess we’d better pass.”

“What about you?” Zoe’s husband says to me. “Are you going with Zoe or do you want to come with us?”

“Before, you said death was the same everywhere,” I say to him, “and I said, ‘Which is what?’ and then Zoe interrupted us and you never did answer me. What were you going to say?”

“I’ve forgotten,” he says, looking at Zoe as if he hopes she will interrupt us again, but she is intent on the guidebook.

“You said death is the same everywhere,” I persist, “and I said, ‘Which is what?’ What did you think death would be like?”

“I don’t know… unexpected, I guess. And probably pretty damn unpleasant.” He laughs nervously. “If we’re going to the hotel, we’d better get started. Who else is coming?”

I toy with the idea of going with them, of sitting safely in the hotel bar with ceiling fans and palms, drinking zibib while we wait. That’s what the people on the ship did. And in spite of Lissa, I want to stay with Neil.

I look at the expanse of sand back toward the east. There is no sign of Cairo from here, or of the terminal, and far off there is a flicker of movement, like something running.

I shake my head. “I want to see King Tut’s tomb.” I go over to Neil. “I think we should go with Zoe,” I say, and put my hand on his arm. “After all, she’s our guide.”

Neil looks helplessly at Lissa and then back at me. “I don’t know…”

“The three of you can go back to the hotel,” I say to Lissa, gesturing to include the other men, “and Zoe and Neil and I can meet you there after we’ve been to the tomb.”

Neil moves away from Lissa. “Why can’t you and Zoe just go?” he whispers at me.

“I think we should keep together,” I say. “It would be so easy to get separated.”

“How come you’re so stuck on going with Zoe anyway?” Neil says. “I thought you said you hated being led around by the nose all the time.”

I want to say, Because she has the book, but Lissa has come over and is watching us, her eyes bright behind her sunglasses. “I’ve always wanted to see the inside of a tomb,” I say.

“King Tut?” Lissa says. “Is that the one with the treasure, the necklaces and the gold coffin and stuff?” She puts her hand on Neil’s arm. “I’ve always wanted to see that.”

“Okay,” Neil says, relieved. “I guess we’ll go with you, Zoe.”

Zoe looks expectantly at her husband.

“Not me,” he says. “We’ll meet you in the bar.”

“We’ll order drinks for you,” Lissa’s husband says. He waves good-bye, and they set off as if they know where they were going, even though Zoe hasn’t told them the name of the hotel.

“The Valley of the Kings is located in the hills west of Luxor,” Zoe says and starts off across the sand the way she did at the airport. We follow her.

I wait until Lissa gets a shoeful of sand and she and Neil fall behind while she empties it.

“Zoe,” I say quietly. “There’s something wrong.”

“Umm,” she says, looking up something in the guidebook’s index.

“The Valley of the Kings is four hundred miles south of Cairo,” I say. “You can’t walk there from the Pyramids.”

She finds the page. “Of course not. We have to take a boat.”

She points, and I see we have reached a stand of reeds, and beyond it is the Nile. Nosing out from the rushes is a boat, and I am afraid it will be made of gold, but it is only one of the Nile cruisers. And I am so relieved that the Valley of the Kings is not within walking distance that I do not recognize the boat until we have climbed on board and are standing on the canopied deck next to the wooden paddle wheel. It is the steamer from Death on the Nile .

Chapter 5: Cruises, Day Trips, and Guided Tours

Lissa is sick on the boat. Neil offers to take her below, and I expect her to say yes, but she shakes her head. “My ankle hurts,” she says, and sinks down in one of the deck chairs. Neil kneels by her feet and examines a bruise no bigger than a piaster.

“Is it swollen?” she asks anxiously. There is no sign of swelling, but Neil eases her sandal off and takes her foot tenderly, caressingly, in both hands. Lissa closes her eyes and leans back against the deck chair, sighing.

I toy with the idea that Lissa’s husband couldn’t take any more of this, either, and that he murdered us all and then killed himself.

“Here we are on a ship,” I say, “like the dead people in that movie.”

“It’s not a ship, it’s a steamboat,” Zoe says. “‘The Nile steamer is the most pleasant way to travel in Egypt and one of the least expensive. Costs range from $180 to $360 per person for a four-day cruise.’”

Or maybe it was Zoe’s husband, finally determined to shut Zoe up so he could finish a conversation, and then he had to murder the rest of us one after the other to keep from being caught.

“We’re all alone on the ship,” I say, “just like they were.”

“How far is it to the Valley of the Kings?” Lissa asks.

“‘Three and a half miles (5 km.) west of Luxor,’” Zoe says, reading. “‘Luxor is four hundred miles south of Cairo.’”

“If it’s that far, I might as well read my book,” Lissa says, pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head. “Neil, hand me my bag.”

He fishes Death on the Nile out of her bag and hands it to her, and she flips through it for a moment, like Zoe looking for exchange rates, and then begins to read.

“The wife did it,” I say. “She found out her husband was being unfaithful.”

Lissa glares at me. “I already knew that,” she says carelessly. “I saw the movie,” but after another half-page she lays the open book facedown on the empty deck chair next to her.