Dalia met Grigsby outside by the airstrip. She’d been working all morning and sweat beaded off her dark skin. Grigsby was on his at-phone speaking French, he asked Dalia how long the runway is twice.

“It’s narrow but any talented pilot could land here,” Dalia said.
Grigsby looked at her and grinned, “Merci,” He said hanging up.

Ryūki helps Ira along the soft grass toward Grigsby. They didn’t have much to pack but wanted to take bags of Dalia’s coffee.

“We all set?” Ira asked.
Grigsby nodded and checked his watch. “They’ll be here soon.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll miss the air here.”

They stood in silence for a moment and listened to the cacophony of birds and animals. Thunder boomed somewhere over the hills and far away. A family of monkeys scurried by and paused to look at Grigsby who was still wearing the African patterned pants. He stared down the largest monkey until it ran away. “I’m the alpha,” Grigsby said.

Grigsby’s watch pinged. “Okay gentlemen and lady, time to get off the runway, let’s go.” Dalia laughed and asked if he was afraid of prop planes. Grigsby smirked and pushed her further away from the runway. “Trust me.” He said with a wild look in his eye.

“So this is goodbye?” Dalia asked.
“For now, please come visit. Bunny and I would love to have you at the manor.” Grigsby said. The sound of thunder echoed but from another part of the hills.

Dalia looked up and squinted, “There’s not a cloud in the sky—”

Out from the hills, the whistling of jet engines blared and all the birds in Kenya flew from the trees. A massive white triangle with a bent nose crossed under the sun and descended toward the airstrip. Some farmers blocked their eyes and watched, others ducked for cover. Dalia hadn’t seen a shape like this in decades. As it landed the plane spit dirt and dust up a mile high. It made an about-face and slowed in front of Grigsby. The engines powered down and soon the dirt settled.

Dalia was wide-eyed staring at Grigsby. “Grigsby?!”

“What? You don’t have friends who own a Concorde?”

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