ELFAERY CHAPTER 1 To Egypt Flimsy wisps of cloudlets flitted past the wing at hundreds of miles per hour, causing a whuff-whuff sound if the wings actually hit one of them. From a distance, they were like sparsely scattered cotton balls, flung widely across the deep-indigo sky. Up close, the little white puffs were surprisingly large and thin, their foggy wetness leaving droplets of water streaming across the wings and the row of little round windows. Jillian peered downward through a group of these small clouds at the approaching coastline far below, impatiently moving her head up and down and sideways in order to see better. The plane's wing was obscuring much of her view. She wished that, just once, she could afford to fly first class. The view from up front must be far superior to the one she was relegated to, she thought. And the food was better, as well. That much she knew from her short circular exercise walks near the galley area. Hours ago, meals had been prepared for the First Class passengers while she chatted with some members of the airplane's crew. Perhaps someday, she imagined, after she had become a rich and famous archaeologist. But for now, any travel class would do, because this was certainly the most exciting trip which she had ever taken. "Jack, do you think we will ever become rich and famous archaeologists?" she asked whimsically of the young, handsome man sitting beside her. "Not a chance," he chuckled quietly in response. "They don't pay much for that kind of expertise; but then, you already knew that. Who wants to pay a six figure salary for reports about the ocean levels of pre-history, or the habits of the Neandertals? We are just very lucky that the University cut loose enough funds for the two of us for one summer." "Of course you're ri..." she trailed off, gazing at the sea far below, and musing silently. Then, squirming around in her seat belt, she whispered breathily into his ear, "Do you realize, my dear Jack, that I would have considered strapping myself to a wheel strut to go on this special trek, except for the lack of air?" Jillian was becoming more elated by the minute, because the Mediterranean coastline and ancient Alexandria, Egypt were just passing below them. This morning: Cairo, tomorrow: Greece, then Italy, the French Riviera, Homo Neandertalensis, and one entire Mediterranean summer, all were ahead of them. This was not a middle average trip. In fact, it was a very special trip; it was a scholarship junket to do some actual archaeological research for her Doctoral Thesis at U. C. Berkeley. Jillian knew that she had been fortunate to win it, for she was not the only graduate student with excellent grades. And to make this expedition more than better, Jack, her lab-mate, her long-time very best friend, and occasionally, her casual lover, had won the other half of the junket. That was not such a strange coincidence, since they had nearly identical interests in paleo- anthropology, as well as identical grade point averages. They were obvious soul-mates and often inseparable; although not "in love", they were lovingly intimate. "Look, Jack! Isn't that Alexandria down there?" she asked, wriggling in her seat. Jack strained to lean across her in order to see the scene below. "Hold still, gorgeous. I can't see through your bobbing head. You zig and I'll zag," he quipped. "Oops. Sorry." The pretty twenty-five year old woman, normally bubbly, was now ecstatic; indeed, she was almost effervescent and now quite fidgety. "Yes, I think you are right, Jill. That's probably Alexandria. It's on the coast, and it's huge. That fits the map." Sitting next to each other, Jillian and Jack had excitedly discussed their research project, for most of the long trip from the San Francisco airport to Atlanta, Georgia, where they had changed planes. Too engrossed to sleep, they had quietly continued their animated chatter throughout the night as the other passengers slept across the Atlantic Ocean, to Madrid, Spain for refueling and then onward toward Cairo. Flying eastward, light had rapidly returned to the world below; dawn was happening at almost twice normal speed, due to their speed and direction of travel. Colors were returning to the landscape outside, as well; they seemed oddly vivid, perhaps because of the clear air or the altitude. "I'm so thrilled. We're almost there." She squirmed beneath her seat belt, again. "Oh, this is worth all the saving and penny- pinching and extra jobs. We're going to see some wondrous things," she said gleefully. "True, true. All true. But I still think that we could've stayed in student rooms or something like the local equivalent of the Y, and saved a lot of money," he answered. Jillian argued: "But, what about cleanliness and privacy? Besides, my laptop computer found some great bargains in all three cities. They aren't luxury hotels, but they all have decent reputations. And this is only once in a lifetime, love; we'll probably never see anything so important again, for the rest of our lives." "I had thought we could've shared rooms for the three nights that we had to pay for ourselves. The savings would've bought us dinners, at least," Jack ventured somewhat shyly. "Jack, dear, you're so sweet when you're so naive." She pinched him on the cheek and pecked his lips. She wished that she could explain to him how differently she viewed intimacy. Once in awhile, her lusty sense of adventure and daring would override her natural reticence. She felt certain that, if they were in love, there would be no reticence. He always mistook those scanty, daring times to mean that the flood gates were open, and her more common hesitant times to mean that he was not adequate. Neither was the case. Poor Jack, my best buddy, she thought. Then she smiled a sugary smile and complained, "Boys ...!" He playfully pursed his mouth like a petulant child and whined, "Girls ...!" It was half play, half truth. He had never understood why they made love so rarely, when there had been relatively plenty of opportunities. For Jack, it was a simple matter once the ice was broken: ready, set, go. The more, the merrier, he thought. And why not? Are we not both adults? Are all women the same? Would things change if we were in love? But, Jill is my very finest friend. It is a mystery to ponder. Passengers began to stir and stretch. The strikingly aqua-blue Mediterranean disappeared in the haze, far below and behind them. A loud thumping noise proclaimed that the wheels had dropped into position, and the plane shuddered as it decelerated rapidly. For a moment, it seemed as though the lights dimmed very low, then returned to brighter than normal. And it also seemed that the busy crew members were, for an instant, moving as though they were immersed in water. Jillian was familiar with the shudder and braking as the wheels dropped, but this time the vibrations seemed very deep, as though far beneath them the earth was shaking and slowing, too. It could not have been the cabin lights which had dimmed -- they had been turned off minutes earlier. "I must be experiencing jet lag. Did you notice the shudder and the light change? Could the change in brightness have been outside the plane?" she asked Jack, somewhat anxiously. "Relax," he calmly answered, "Probably, it was one of those little clouds." But he had noticed, although no one else on the plane had seemed to. And he wondered silently why the light would seem to get brighter after flying through a tiny cloud. He thought, Perhaps the cloudlet's density had caused the slight shudder and its moisture had partially cleaned the windows as well. He told Jillian of these two possible explanations, and her forehead furrows smoothed. Jack did not mention the momentary slow-motion crew, which was now back to normal speed; they were quickly preparing the passengers for the landing. He was hoping that she had not noticed. Maybe the odd, jerky, speed-change phenomenon had only been in his mind, not hers. He had no easy explanation for that, except maybe jet lag or sleep deprivation. There is no reason to worry her about it, he thought; Everything now seems normal. The other passengers are acting normally. None of them had seemed to notice anything unusual. Ten minutes later, the famous sand-yellow pyramids could be seen in the far distance. Further east, beyond the colossal structures, was the red-mud-brown Nile, striped between the narrow, green fringes of its banks. Immediately beyond the river was the massive cream and white sprawl of greater Cairo, its red tile roofs choked by a thin cloud of orange pollution which was made even more orange by the rose-tinted desert sunrise. The plane was dropping in altitude, preparing to land. Soon, the rough, black, tarmac runway appeared as a blur through the small window and a tire screech signaled their arrival in Egypt. Jillian and Jack waited until most of the travelers had elbowed themselves off the plane first, then they disembarked and headed toward the luggage carrousel. Jack protectively pulled Jillian along as he swam upstream through the noisy crowd. He strode along holding Jillian snugly against his body, and realized once again how comfortable she was to hold closely. She was the only girl who could (and did) encroach upon him as closely as she wanted, and at any time which she wanted. Jack knew that he and Jillian would always love each other quite sincerely. For a time, once, after one of their infrequent intimacies, Jack had considered offering a marriage proposal, but since they were full-time best friends, and dated only part-time, it had seemed like an awkward thing to do. In any case, they each had some exploring to do before getting serious about anyone. Besides, there were educations to finish and careers to begin. Meanwhile, a safer, more comfortable date could not be found, he thought to himself. Usually slightly reserved, he suddenly felt exuberant. With a rare display of strength, he scooped Jillian's heavy luggage off the carrousel with one hand, and his own with the other. Whistling, he hauled their luggage to the customs check gate, where they had no delay. Nearby, they exchanged a small amount of money before leaving the airport building. Jack carried both luggage sets toward the exit door, and just before the automatic door opened, he said, loudly: "I, Allah Djinn, the Genie of the Magic Lamp, command you: Open Sesame! " Of course, the door dutifully opened, just as though it had obeyed Jack's demand. A bystander who was an obvious Arab, dressed in the traditional galabayya, or long cotton gown, and a turban wrapped around his head, laughed at Jack's melodramatic pretense. Clearly, the Egyptian man was fluent in English, for he well understood the humorous, purposeful gaffe. He nodded knowingly at Jack, and Jack winked back, flashing lots of brilliant white teeth. As the pair walked through the door, Jillian laughed also, and said, "You are confused, Sir Jack-of-the-Lantern. You are emulating Ali Baba, from the Forty Thieves story, not Aladdin of the Lamp." She felt extravagantly lucky that her male best friend was so gallant, as well as so bravely and publicly audacious. She thought, He has what the Greeks call hubris, and she wondered if the word fit the situation. There was not a hint of self-consciousness on his tanned, smiling face. No, she silently told herself, Hubris is too strong of a word, and it implies arrogance. That is not Jack! Perhaps chutzpah fits him better, or possibly brash. Once they were through the exit door to the outside open air, the full impact of Egypt hit them. A busy morning in a busy metropolis was just beginning. Strange food was being cooked; unusual people were doing unfamiliar business in weird little stands on the sidewalk. Foreign noises seemed peculiarly loud. The sky was very bright. It was then, in that hot alien ambiance, that the two young people sensed an electric shiver of magic, of power, of danger, and of exhilaration. They each felt that, finally, their odyssey had truly begun; oddly, they each perceived that it would be a long, enchanting pilgrimage. Jillian unconsciously pressed her nails into Jack's palm. "Jack, ... ," she began, but did not finish. "Yes, I feel it too, Jilly" he murmured. The hair on his arms stood out. In the Egyptian heat, both shivered slightly. Neither told the other why. The young pair squeezed onto an airport shuttle to their hotel for some much needed rest before exploring. Refusing help, Jack carried all the luggage except for Jillian's overnight box, which she carried. They rode the elevator to the fifth floor, and found Jillian's room first. Jack immediately checked the windows, door locks, and balcony of Jillian's room for security. "Everything looks okay; you can sleep without me guarding the door. Will six hours be enough time to rest before going out this afternoon?" Jill was already running water into the bath tub. "Yes, that will do, until tonight." "Then I'll set my watch, and come to fetch you later. When you hear this funny knock," he demonstrated, "you'll know it's me, and not that slave trader next door, come to carry you away and rent you out. You know, the one with the camel caravan double-parked across the street? Maybe I should stay here with you after all?" he joked. "Out, lout!" she quipped in response, pushing him toward the door between giggles. Having gotten Jillian settled in, and feeling very tired, Jack hoisted his luggage up. Pretending tears, he said, "Parting is such sweet sorrow." Wearily, he hauled his luggage out the door and down the hallway to find his own room. Jack was very glad that most of their luggage had been shipped directly to Rome and did not need to be dragged from place to place. While checking out his room and unpacking a few items, he thought about how much he enjoyed hearing Jillian's laughter. It seemed to bubble out so easily, like champagne from the bottle. There was a tinkling quality to her laughter that always reminded him of tiny wine goblets clicking together. Jack would go far out of his way to make her laugh, just so that he could hear it. During his long, cool shower, Jack tried to imagine ahead, wondering what adventures may befall them once they started exploring for Neandertal clues along the Italian Riviera. But he was too tired from talking with Jillian all night across two oceans, to get very far in his imaginings. He brushed his teeth, set his alarm watch, and fell onto his open bed, wearing only his boxer-shorts underwear. For all practical purposes, Jack was asleep before his squeaky, concave bed had stopped bouncing. Meanwhile, after a long soak in a tepid tub, Jillian had scrubbed her teeth using bottled water, remembering her mother's admonishment about "drinking the water", and toweled her short, pink hair partially dry. It was too hot for a hair dryer. Then she turned down the bed linen and flopped on top of the sheets. While the Cairo morning was too warm for her to cover herself, it was not quite hot enough to force her to run the loud, windy, smelly air-conditioner which filled half of the best viewing window. Jillian was exhausted. Her excitement, coupled with the taxi horn beeps and the Arabic shouts and a Muezzin, calling the faithful to prayers from the minaret of a nearby mosque, and the spicy smells and Middle-Eastern music floating through her balcony window, managed to keep her awake for only about three minutes. They each slept through the midday as though dead.