Chapter 1: The Crash
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The first thing I became aware of was the sky.
So… crisp I thought numbly, wasn't like that this morning…
My head began to clear slowly, the painful ringing sound ebbing away and my mind slowly coming back to reality. That's when I noticed the numbness of my body. It was an odd sensation, not feeling one's body yet being completely aware that it is still there. Slowly though, some pain began to register, mostly in my chest and right wrist. I tried to steady my breathing to lessen the pain from my chest and tried and failed to move my right arm. I had a vague idea that I was lying on grass if the earthy smell was anything to go by. I barely noticed the chilling wind blowing over me.
What… happened?
I pealed my eyes from the sky and turned my head slowly to the left. I could see the cool grass I was laying on still had a fine dew covering it. Beyond the grass in front of me, I could see I was in a small clearing surrounded by towering pines. On the edge of the clearing, a few yards away, I could see my Tecnam* resting quietly on the ground by some fallen over trees. Well, more accurately, I could see its wreckage and the trees it had broken.
The plane lay slightly on its left side, the right wing completely gone and still dripping fuel. The tail of the craft was heavily damaged. Long strips of aluminum torn all the way from the back of the main body to the tailfins, with the rudder snapped in half. The left wing and its engine were hidden from view, but I could deduce it was what the plane was leaning on. A black plume of smoke rose quickly into the sky from the left wing, which I was now aware must be on fire. The word lightning crossed my mind for some reason. The cockpits front and side windows were surprisingly intact from what seemed to have been quite a harsh crash, and the righthand door was ajar.
I… crashed… when did that happen? Why am I not in the plane?
I vaguely remembered something interrupting an otherwise uneventful flight, then everything after being a blur, but for the life of me I couldn't remember why.
Must have a concussion from the crash, that explains the headache, and possibly a broken rib and wrist going of the pain in those areas. It's lucky I'm alive at all. Judging by the wreckage I could have easily-
"Are you alright?"
The unexpected sound of someone else caused me to quickly sit up, startled. Immediately my chest protested the rapid movement, and it took all my will to not pass out from the pain. A sharp gasp did escape my lips.
Shit. That hurt. Definitely a broken rib.
"Easy there! Easy!" the person, a man by the sound of their voice, advised soothingly. "You just had a nasty crash, you need to take it slow unless you want to worsen your injuries." the man continued, putting his hands on my still numb shoulders to steady me.
"Plus, I'd very much like to know exactly what you crashed in, so please don't go trying to get yourself killed, okay?" the man said almost teasingly.
I looked to my right where the voice was coming from to be greeted with a young man, no doubt near his twenties. His green eyes were filled with concern yet also confusion. There was something else near him, but my vision was still hazy. I blinked my eyes a few times, trying to get rid of the lingering blurriness. I wish I hadn't. Standing-no, looming just behind the man was… something. It was black, with luminescent green-yellow eyes and slitted pupils, towering over both of us. Yet at the same time there was something familiar about the beast.
"Wha… what?" I choked out before slipping unconscious for the second time that day.
"Way to go, you overgrown reptile, you scared him! I told you to hang back for a sec." was the last thing I heard.
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36 Hours Earlier
"Wha… what is this?" I asked the man in front of me as I stared at the box he had handed me.
The man in question was wrapped in a black raincoat, still dripping wet from the downpour outside. His face the was only thing visible in the low light of the hanger making it hard to tell who he was. He looked quite weathered, at least in his fifties with a short gray beard.
He had come out of nowhere, scaring the ever-living shit out of me when he tapped on my shoulder asking if I could deliver his package. I was busy doing scheduled maintenance on my Tecnam and the last thing I was expecting was a customer to come quietly strolling into the hanger looking for me.
He was lucky I hadn't bashed his face in with the screwdriver I was holding.
After catching my breath and scowling at his amused expression, I reluctantly took the object that he was offering me into my hands.
"A very important package that I need delivered to a friend in Bermuda by tomorrow night, Mr. Hadson. It's an artifact that she's spent the better half of a decade looking for and after I stumbled across it I decided to do her a favor and get it to her as soon as possible." The man responded with an air of importance, but I was still busy overcoming the confidence boost of being referred to as "Mr. Hadson". I'm used to just being called Chris.
I took another look at the package in my hands. The package in question was a very old looking wooden box with thin metal rims. It looked like a small treasure chest and was covered in carvings of people fighting off creatures- dragons if I had to put a word to them.
Nordic origin, maybe?
The detail of the carvings, though, was certainly admirable. No doubt made by someone skillful in the craft. It could certainly be some sort of artifact, though the whole thing gave me an uneasy feeling-one that told me I should get rid of the box as soon as possible.
"Tomorrow night, you said?" I half inquired, still trying to figure out why this box had me on edge all the sudden.
"To Bermuda. Yes. My friend will be waiting for you there when you land to pick up the package. She's a kind woman, I'm sure she'd offer a place to rest if you needed one afterwards." He responded, eyeing me nervously as I shook the box to guess its contents. There was something inside, small, but I still couldn't shake the feeling I had.
"You seem quite certain that I'd be willing to brave the skies between here and Bermuda this time of year for an old box."
That's when I thought I finally pinpointed what made me so uneasy. This was the only thing he wanted me to deliver. All the way to Bermuda no less. I hesitated for a moment, looking into the confident hazel eyes of the man.
"I'll give it you straight. I won't." I said before he could reply to my earlier statement. There was no way I was about to deliver what could end up being drugs out of the country.
Not again, that is.
The man was certainly surprised, his mouth falling open slightly before quickly composing himself. "What do you mean you won't?" He said slowly, as if checking to see if I were pulling some sort-of cruel joke.
"I mean, that I won't do the delivery." I responded matter-of-factly. "It's the storm season here, and I'm not sure if you know, that means the weather is as unpredictable as it can be severe- especially over the Atlantic this time of year. You'd be asking a lot of me to deliver one package in those kinds of conditions all the way from Tampa to Bermuda on such short notice. Not to mention the cost of the fuel for a flight there would be far more than the cost of delivering such a small package." I wasn't about to tell him I thought he was trying to trick me into to deliver drugs, as I really had no proof, yet my excuse still made sense as it was pretty much true. I handed him back the box, all the while he continued to look at me in disbelief.
Was he really that sure I'd do it? Is he just a normal guy trying to help a friend? Now I just feel like an ass.
I sighed. "Look, I don't mean to be rude, but I simply can't risk a delivery like this. This is a one-man operation here, if you didn't know, and money's tight even with it just being me working here. I'm sorry, but I think you'd be better off-" I was cut off as the man tossed me a small pouch. I fumbled with the pouch before dropping it onto the floor, producing the small sound of coins in a bag.
Shit. He's bribing me now.
"Money isn't tight for me. This delivery is very important, and it must be done before tomorrow night." The desperation in his tone was evident as I picked up the pouch and opened it, peering in to it. My jaw nearly fell open when I saw the gold coins-at least fifteen of them.
I don't recall drug dealers using gold as a bribe, just lots of cash… I thought before quickly snapping to my senses.
"I-I can't take this! This is nearly $20,000 of gold here! Jesus man, what do you think I'm running here?!" I stammered while making sure they were even real coins. This only made the whole situation more suspicious and unnerving.
"You said it yourself. Money's tight. I'm sure that this would be enough to cover flight expenses and any damage you may experience, not to mention help keep you afloat for a while." He responded in a gentle yet pleading voice. "Please, you're the only company I could find in the area on such short notice that even does air deliveries out of the country." The man explained while handing the box back to me. "As I said, my friend will be waiting for you there. I can't give you her name, but she will be there. Just look for a woman with a cane, I've never seen her without it." He stole a glance at his watch, then quickly turned around a began heading toward the open hanger door.
I removed my still wide-eyes from the gold coins and watched as he continued to walk away. "W-Wait! Where are you going?! I haven't even said I'd do it!" I called out, confused and a little miffed that he'd just walk off like that after the stunt he just pulled.
What the Hell is he trying to get me to deliver?!
"I haven't the time to stay and chat. Like I said, I'm on short notice. You have a good heart, Christopher Hadson, I trust your judgement." The man replied, not bothering to look at me as he neared the hanger door.
I didn't have time to process the odd statement before I tried to get some information out of the mysterious man. "At least tell me your name dammit!" I yelled defeatedly, not caring to try and act formal.
He paused just at the open door and stared up at the slowly calming storm outside. He was quiet for a moment, lost deep in thought before he turned and looked me in the eyes. His hazel eyes seemed filled with uneasiness and maybe even pity, before quickly turning confident again. "Bervman, Fredrick Bervman." He said simply, a small smile appearing on his face as he turned and walked out into the rain and giving a small wave over the shoulder, leaving me alone in the dim hanger.
"…"
"…Well, that was certainly… strange." I remarked quietly to myself. I sighed as I looked down at my hands. One holding the pouch of gold, the other the odd box.
Am I really thinking about doing this?
The man, Fredrick, was obviously desperate if the raw gold he just handed me was anything to go by. I was no longer convinced he was a drug dealer or that this had anything to do with drugs, yet there still seemed to be more to the situation then he was letting on. No one goes this out of their way to deliver any old wooden box.
Then again, he did say it was an important artifact… I thought for a moment as I returned my eyes back to the hanger door. Maybe his friend is a historian and this thing is rare and thus valuable, it would explain why he wants it delivered so quickly… I guess…
I sighed as I turned around and headed to the small office located in a small building in the back of the hanger. It wasn't much, just a space to do all the non-plane things the job demanded.
I entered the office and headed for my desk. The desk was covered in all sorts of papers; from weather outlooks to bills yet to be paid, but I doubt those would be a problem now.
Seriously! Who just throws around gold like that!?
I dropped into the chair in front of my laptop, putting both the pouch of gold and box down next to it. I woke up it up, logged in, and opened Excel and went to the Flight Logs sheet.
I wasn't lying to Fredrick when I said I was tight on money, and I certainly wasn't lying about the airspace between here and Bermuda being dangerous. He clearly knew about my current financial status, which was odd, so this job was certainly for the benefit of both of us. I needed to do this delivery, for my sake as much as his.
Business had been slow for the past few months. It's always been slow, actually. It's hard to compete with corporations like UPS or Fedex as an independent company. When I first opened Hadson Air Delivery back in 2015 I was sure I'd be bankrupted by the end of the year, but that didn't stop me from trying anyways. I loved to fly, so why not make a job out of it?
I was quickly able to find a stable enough market of customers by advertising cheaper short-range deliveries as well as deliveries to the Caribbean, Mexico, and Bahama's (all on the cheap). It was enough demand to keep the business afloat the last few years, so I guess in the end I was happy; even with the looming threat of a bigger company just buying me out or just stealing my customers. But if it ever came to that, at least I would've enjoyed the time I had here and be happy I took the chance.
I looked at this month's flight log sheet in Excel. There was only one delivery made this month about two weeks ago, a delivery of about five large packages to Pensacola that got me about $1,200. Enough for the fuel and for expenses, but not much else.
He was right about one thing though, I usually have good judgement. Yet here I go doing this anyways. I chuckled lightly to myself as I logged the date location of my next delivery: 8-24-18, Bermuda.
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The weather had cleared later that night. Storms here didn't usually last to late into the night, and they usually didn't occur in the early mornings. That was the best time to leave. By the time 8:00 am rolled around the next morning the skies were clear and a pleasant milky white-blue. More importantly, the runway was dry and ready for today's traffic.
The flight to Bermuda would be about three hours, and I had already checked up on the weather advisories for the area in my flight path (straight from east Tampa to Bermuda-nonstop). There was a small chance of severe storms in the afternoon out over the Atlantic, but I planned on being on the ground in Bermuda by noon.
Might as well spend the day there and leave tomorrow morning. Hopefully Fredrick was right about his friend having an open bed I had thought as loaded my Tecnam with fuel as well as my travel bag and some snacks for the trip. I placed the package in the passenger seat and buckled up and began doing pre-flight checks. The twin engines roared to life and I began my taxi to the runway.
The small airport was mostly empty that morning, so it wasn't long before I had clearance to take off. I throttled up the engines and made my way down the runway, heart pounding in excitement. Pulling up, I gained some altitude before I turned heading east to Bermuda, and by 8:45 I was well on my way.
The twin props hummed loudly as I climbed up and out of the clouds, settling for a cruise altitude of 10,000 feet. About fifteen minutes later I stared out the window and down below me as the Florida coast gave way to an already rough looking Atlantic. There would be no more land below for the rest of the flight to Bermuda, so I turned on the planes auto-pilot, called air traffic control for a check-in and took in the view before me. The endless turquoise-blue of the Atlantic was a view I hadn't seen in a while. Most of my deliveries this year had been to the north or west, so it was a nice change of scenery.
Flying was something I always loved to do. Ever since I was six, I wanted to join the air force and get to fly in those faster-than-sound jets, higher than any commercial aircraft could take you. To feel the G-force against my chest as I climbed higher and higher, faster and faster. The curvature of the Earth easily seen. It was all I ever thought about, to the annoyance of some of my teachers.
My father had signed me up for flight school when I was fifteen, much to the protest of my mother who hated flying, and I was probably the happiest teenager in the country that day. Learning to fly was a little harder than I thought it would've been, but I gladly accepted the challenge. After all, it would be all worth it in the end.
After about a year, I had become experienced enough to be considered a pilot and not a student, and when I had my first solo-flight, I had almost run out of fuel because I got lost in the experience. There was nothing stopping me from getting into the air force then. I had learned how to fly almost every citizen-grade aircraft and was even allowed to try out simulators to fly the bigger commercial jets. So, when I turned eighteen, I was ready to enlist. Unfortunately, though, things didn't go as planned.
Ironically, both my parents ended up perishing in a plane crash a month before I planned to enlist. They were on their way to France for their 25th anniversary when their plane, Air France 448*, got caught in a major storm system just off the coast of Spain. No one is sure why the pilots got so close to the storm, as it was reported to all airlines in the area, but some speculated the pilots had been drunk. Of course, those rumors could never be disproven. The plane never emerged from that storm, and the wreckage of the plane washed on the coast of Spain for a whole week, but no sign of a blackbox. Not one body was ever found either.
As you can imagine, I was devastated after that. I never went to apply for the air force as it was the last thing on my mind at the time. In fact, I didn't fly two whole years after they died. Every time I looked at a plane, I could only think of them.
After those two years, I decided that it was time to move on. I no longer had the same drive as I did those year ago to join the air force, but I still had that itch to fly. So, in 2015, I invested some of the money I inherited from my parents into buying a Tecnam P2006T and a small hanger on a private airport just east of Tampa. Business was slow at first, but soon orders came in and Hadson Air Delivery found it's metaphorical footing in the market.
…
A glint of light pulled me out of my reminiscing. I looked to my right and saw some sunlight was reflecting off the metal edges of the wooden box. I leaned over and pushed the box over so it was no longer in the light and turned back to the view ahead of me. But my eyes didn't stay ahead for much longer.
There was something, entrancing about the box all the sudden, though I couldn't think of a reason why. I eyed the box again, and curiosity as well as a little boredom took over as I leaned over and picked the box up and sat it on my lap.
Now that I think about it, this thing is surprisingly light. I thought to myself. I then recalled that when I had shaken it while talking to that Fredrick fellow, there had been a small object inside rattling around. Why the Hell would you shake it, you idiot! It could've been fragile! I chastised myself for breaking a fundamental rule of mailing while running my hand over the different patterns and images of the carvings.
"…"
The quiet hum of the engines filled the cabin as I lapsed into silence.
"…I wonder what's inside…" I asked myself in a hushed voice.
He never said I couldn't open it… I thought as I slowly opened the box, surprised at it not being locked. He must not have cared at all, then.
The inside was about as exciting as you could have guess a wooden box to be. Just wood. Its contents, or content, though did pique my interest.
Itwas a small oblong like stone, no bigger than an inch, that was silver in color. I picked it up and ran a finger along its smooth surface as I examined the symbol on it. It was another dragonesque creature-much like that ones on the outside of the box, yet far sleeker in appearance. It's only discernable features were its four short, stout legs, a long tail with fins at the tip and base, and an oval-ish head. It was also colored black, contrasting with the monotone silver stone. The creature was wrapped around in a circle, almost biting its tail.
Interesting, not nearly as intimidating as the carvings… I thought as I turned it around. The back had small inscriptions that were either too small to discern or were of a foreign language I didn't know. Guess it really is an antique. Hm.
The strangest thing about the small stone though was that it felt like it emanated power. An odd thought seeing as I had no clue what power even meant to me or what it would even feel like, but I did none the less. It was a little unsettling.
Why did he want this delivered? And more importantly, why did he ask me to do it? I thought as the weirdness of the whole exchange came back to me. I remembered what he had said during our conversation.
"You're the only company I could find in the area on such short notice that even does deliveries out of the country" he had claimed.
The only company? That's bullshit. There are plenty others that do the same thing I do… I retorted…even more effectively… I solemnly added.
"…"
Why trust some random delivery company with something so "important"? Let alone pay in gold…
"…"
I looked up from the stone to the planes dash and noticed the time.
10:15 already? Jeez, must've really been lost in thought….
"…"
…and there I go again I thought sardonically. It wasn't unusual for me to become so lost in my own thoughts, but today surely marked a record for it. I wondered why.
Probably all the weirdness in such a short time I concluded. I then turned my focus back onto the stone.
"…"
Another glint of light caught my attention, but this time it didn't come from the box. No, it came from outside the front window. Far away outside the front window.
"What in the Hell…?"
Directly ahead of the plane, no more than ten miles, was a massive storm cloud.
"Where did that come from?!" I exclaimed in a quick panic.
Lightning seemed to flash almost constantly below the storm as rain poured unto the turbulent Atlantic below. Just looking at the churning wall of black ahead told me enough about the conditions inside the storm. A painful memory of Air France 448 flashed in my head before I quickly snapped out of my trance. I looked down at the plane's dash again to view the radar, only to find it was completely clear.
"Of course, it's broken." I said in a forced cheery voice, "Fantastic."
This was definitely not an ideal situation to be in. I quickly turned off the plane's auto-pilot to regain control and turn the plane to the south to avoid the storm. That was at least the plan. Instead of the plane tuning south as I turned the control wheel right, it continued straight toward the storm. I tried again, but the plane remained unresponsive.
The situation was going from dead-radar bad to dead-flight-controls bad.
Shit, did the hydraulics fail? No that can't be, I checked it yesterday afternoon… I thought desperately as I tried to figure out why my plane was now an unresponsive flying cage chauffeuring me to my eminent death. I tried once again to turn the control stick, only for it to resist. It was jammed.
"Of course, that's broken too." I said, fear evident in my voice as a cold sweat began to build on my back.
I can't fly through that storm, it's way too severe! The plane will never make it! I will never make it! I thought as I began to panic.
I tried to call into air traffic control to report my situation and hopefully get some insight on how to fix the growing number of problems as the plane entered the cloud bank, only to be met with interference. Not only that, but most of the instruments on board were now going AWOL, only fueling my fear and anxiety.
Y'know, I never believed in that Bermuda Triangle crap, after all this isn't the first time I've made this trip, but I think I see where the stories come from… I thought dejectedly as the plane began to be pummeled by wind and rain.
I tried my best to steady the plane as the turbulence rocked it back and forth, but the plane was still unresponsive. Whatever forces that were responsible for my current predicament clearly had all the control. Lightning flashed constantly outside the windows, several bolts coming far too close for comfort. All I could do was buckle up and hope for the best.
I knew this was going to happen! I should've trusted my damn judgement! If I survive this shitstorm, that Fredrick guy's gonna get a piece of my-
And that's when the stone started glowing, interrupting my internal rant.
I had to do a double take to make sure I wasn't going insane from all the adrenaline pumping through my panic-stricken body.
Yeah… it's glowing alright. I thought tiredly.
The entire stone, except for the symbol, was now glowing a faint purple that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the lightning outside. Each time it pulsed, I could feel the raw energy emanating from the stone. Now I knew what that power I felt earlier was, and why I felt so uncomfortable around the box when Fredrick first gave it to me. It was magic. Or, at least, something I sure as Hell shouldn't be associated with; and I'll be the first to admit I was scared shitless.
I began to panic even more; something I thought impossible in my already panicked state. I unbuttoned my black polo as my body was wracked with another wave of sweat.
Whatever is screwing with my plane must be because of this damn stone.
I quickly tried to push the left-hand door open, so I could throw the accursed rock into the raging sea below, Fredrick and his friend be damned, but not only was the door impossible to open (probably due to the raging storm outside), the stone itself refused to leave my hand. It was stuck. Stuck like goddamn voodoo-magic glue.
I let out a struggled scream as I tried to pry it off, a blistering pain erupting in my hand each time I pulled on it, while my mind became a whirlwind of thoughts.
The storm continued to worsen outside, reflecting my detreating mental state. I could hear the two engines struggling against the wind and rain and could feel the plane being thrown in every direction. As the storm worsened, the shine of the stone brightened as well, to the point where it began to burn.
I could only watch in panicked horror as the stone seemed to fuse into the palm of my hand, and slowly inch its way down before imbedding itself into my right wrist. The energy and heat of the stone seemed to begin making its way through my very veins as the glow intensified.
Again, I screamed. More in fear than in pain. Not that it wasn't very, very painful.
Lightning struck the left wing; the blinding flash and deafening crack of thunder tearing my focus from the stone. Time seemed to slow for a moment as I watched flames and sparks flow out of the left-side engine like water before the spinning prop came to a halt. With the engine gone the plane veered to the left and went into a spinning nose-dive.
Once again, I screamed bloody murder.
I could feel the world around me spinning both literally and metaphorically. Thoughts swarmed through my mind at a million miles a second.
Fuck it hurts!
The searing pain in my wrist seemed to grow with each passing second.
I'm going to die, just like them!
The lightning and clouds outside the widow began blurring into a swirling vortex of light and dark
I need to stabilize the plane! Where the Hell is the horizon?!
I was on the verge of passing out from both the forces caused by the spin and the still intense pain radiating from the stone in my wrist. I willed myself to remain conscious.
I wonder what afterlife waits me... No! Need to shut down the right engine-to regain control!
The world continued to blur further into black and white streaks as my vision began to darken.
…Fredrick… did he know?
Then everything stopped.
The plane leveled out. All on its own. The left-engine, though still on fire, sputtered back to life. The storm began to clear, the worst of it over. The plane struggled as it left the storm clouds, bobbing left to right, but I didn't notice it was the clouds themselves that were vanishing behind me. I barely registered the stone dimming and the pain along with it. I was too caught up in my thoughts again.
That smile.
That damned smile.
He knew.
The bastard knew.
The last thing I saw before passing out was an island with steep ocean side cliffs, tall sky-scraping mountains, and a black blur off to my right.
-0-0-0-0-0-
L.F. Wade International Airport, Air Traffic Control, 10:45 am.
"What did you say? Without a trace?" asked Michael as he took a sip of rum from his flask.
"Yes sir, without a trace. The Tecnam just vanished off the radar about 289 miles south east from Bermuda. I received some transmission from the pilot, but it was to distorted to make anything out." I replied as I pointed to the radar screen.
"Any storms in the area?" he inquired, leaning in.
"No, sir, the weather was perfectly clear for miles." I replied gesturing to a different screen.
Michael was lost in thought for a moment as he scratched his beard. "Call the Coast Guard and report a missing craft. This is their derestriction now." he said solemnly.
I gave out a long sigh. It was never easy to be the one to report a potentially downed craft. It almost felt like it was your fault. "Another to the Triangle, huh?" I asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.
"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed as he turned to leave. "He was probably just drunk."
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AN:
*Tecnam P2006T is a dual prop, four-seater plane with a range of about 770 miles. It costs about $450,000, so you can imagine why Chris is in a tough spot.
*Air France 448 is a reference to the real-life Air France 447 crash which also crashed during a storm due to intermetal errors.
Well that's that I suppose. Never thought I'd write a fanfic but here I am. The idea for this story had been plaguing my mind for the last few days, mostly the crash scene, so I decided to allocate some of my precious free time to putting it into words. I'm still unsure of where I want the story to go, but I have a vague idea at the time of writing this. Probably not the best idea to post a first chapter with no idea where it might head, but I want to test the waters.
Here's to a hopefully enjoyable story.
Edited 9-26-18: added missing lines breaks.
Edited 11-5-18: fixed a few errors as well as changed some wording (mostly in the last scene).