Amelia's mind wandered as she finished checking her dials on the dash of the had been all around the world and yet she was still fascinated by everything she thought of George, her dear husband back in California. She drifted as she thought of their farewell kiss.

"Amelia, I think we're close to where we should contact the Itasca," Fred, her navigator, informed her. "Alright, thank you," she replied. She turns on her radio and sets it to the third notch on the dial. She had just gotten the radio installed and was still learning how to use it.

"This is KHAQQ, do you copy?" She spoke clearly into the microphone. After a few moments with no reply, she repeats, "This is KHAQQ, do you copy? Itasca, please respond."

She looked out her windshield at the dark low-lying clouds along the horizon. A look of worry crossed Amelia's brow. How on earth was she going to land this plane with no guidance from the ship below? "Don't worry," Fred told her, "We still have plenty of time before we get there." "Thanks, Fred," Amelia said, "Do we seem to be on track?" "Looks like it to me," he replied.

She looks down at the dials again, everything looks okay, she thought to herself. "I'm going to report in to the Itasca, again." She speaks clearly again, "This is KHAQQ, weather is overcast and cloudy up here. Itasca, do you copy?"

She could hear the feedback through the transmission. The sound of static filled her headset. Amelia fiddled with the dial again, turning the first notch in an attempt to get a response. "This is KHAQQ, do you copy?" She still had no clear response from the sea-craft below.

A few hours later, they were within 200 miles of the Itasca. "This is KHAQQ, we are within 200 miles of your location. Can you read me?" Amelia was starting to get worried. The clouds now darker against the rising sun on the horizon.

She heard a faint static through the radio and continued, "Can you find our position? We need guidance to your location." She began to whistle into her microphone. Maybe they could lock on to her through the transmission.

Around a half hour later, they were another 100 miles out and still had no response from the Itasca. "Try again, Amelia, things are starting to get bad up here," Fred warned her. She really didn't need the warning. Amelia had already pieced together that they may not make it to their destination.

She spoke out again, "This is KHAQQ, we are about 100 miles from your position." Still no response. "Fred, I don't know if we are going to make it much farther," she says looking down at the dials. "Stay calm," he replied, "Everything will be okay. Try adjusting the dials again."

Amelia fiddled around with the radio for what felt like the hundredth time. About an hour or so later, Amelia reached out, yet again, and prayed for a response. "We must be on you, but cannot see you—but gas is running low. Have been unable to reach you by radio. We are flying at 1,000 feet. I can't hear you. Can you send a voice signal so that I can get a radio bearing?" Not long after that, Amelia finally got a response, in Morse code. Great, the Itasca couldn't send a voice transmission.

"I can't locate the direction of your transmission," Amelia responded into her microphone. Another hour later, "We are on the line 157 337. We will repeat this message. We will repeat this on 6210 kilocycles. Wait," Amelia stopped mid-sentence. She stared out the windshield.

"Fred, is this right?" Amelia asked. He looked out the windshield, "I think so. Finally, I think we've made it!" Amelia speaks into her mic again, "We are running on line north and south." Amelia relaxed. Finally, they had made it. Just in the nick of time! She looked out the windshield again at the surrounding clouds and the rising sun.

"It's so peaceful up here," she mused out loud. "I agree," Fred responded, "when we don't feel like we're going to crash." Amelia laughed, half out of relief, the other half out of that still slight terror. Suddenly, a bright light flashed in front of the Electra, a crashing boom exploded around them.

"What the hell?!" Amelia exclaimed, "Was that lightning?" "Uh, Amelia," Fred started, "What is that?"