Chapter 1: The Crash
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Ringing filled my ears, and despite my eyes being open all I saw was black.
I blinked a few times, squeezing my eyes shut hard to try and press the darkness out. Slowly the ringing faded, and it almost felt as if my mind was emptying of water as my vision cleared. It felt as if I had been outside my body and reentering, and as reality seemed to turn back into place I became aware of the skies overhead.
They were a deep and rich blue, far crisper than the tropical skies I remembered, and strands of cirrus clouds crossed the great expanse. I tried to move my arm, to bring a hand up to my aching head and rub it, but found my entire body numb and unresponsive. The only sensation I could feel was the chill in the air and the dampness of the grass below me.
Slowly, though, new sensations emerged from their hiding as a flare of sharp pain came from my chest and wrist. I tried to steady my breathing to ease the pain, but found myself having to put all my focus into the action.
What the Hell happened? I wondered, a small panic beginning to form inside me as my body remained unresponsive. I was… what was I doing?
I found my recent memory failing me, which only worried me further, and a new desire to get an understanding of where I was growing. With newfound eagerness, I poured all my will into simply turning my head over to get a view of my surroundings.
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, one of the horizontal stabilizers was completely missing, and long strips of aluminum were torn all the way from the back of the main body to the tailfins. 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?
My memory began to clear slightly, and I vaguely remembered something interrupting an otherwise uneventful flight. Everything after is still a blur in my mind, and for the life of me I could not figure out what could have happened.
Must have a concussion from the crash, which explains the headache, and possibly a broken rib and wrist going off the pain in those areas. It's lucky I'm alive at all. Judging by the wreckage I could have easily-
"Are you all right?"
Despite my seeming paralysis, 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 exasperate your injuries, okay?" the man added in an almost teasing tone.
I looked to my right where the voice was coming from to be greeted by a younger 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 unconsciously 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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Tampa Executive Airport, 36 Hours Earlier
"What is it?" 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 that looked unkept.
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 hangar looking for me during a storm.
I was glad I had enough self-control to have not turned and hit the man out of shock with the wrench I had been using. That would have been a legal hassle I didn't want to deal with. After catching my breath and scowling at his amused expression, I had told him my business hours and to come back then, but he persisted and practically threw the box into my hands.
"A very important package that I need to be 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 answered with an air of importance, but I was still getting over his rudeness. He didn't even bother to introduce himself.
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.
Viking origin, maybe? I thought, noticing the horned helmets the people in the carvings wore.
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.
When he had given it to me, I thought I had heard something loose inside, and opening it up I spotted a singular pale stone with some design carved into it as well. I didn't put any further thought into the strange contents, assuming the box itself was the more important artifact and closed the box.
"Tomorrow night, you said?" I half inquired, still trying to figure out why this box had me on edge all of a 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 quickly, eyeing me nervously as I casually flipped the box over to view the bottom, not finding anything of further interest there.
"Skies over that part of the Atlantic aren't exactly favorable for a flight this time of year for the type of plane I fly. You seem rather sure I'd be willing to fly them for just a 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 be straight with you, sir, I can't accept this. At least not now while I have no other deliveries to make." I said before he could reply to my earlier statement.
Other than the obvious waste of money it would be, and the risk, I couldn't help but feel I was being tricked into trafficking drugs and I wasn't about to let that happen.
Not again, that is.
The man was 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 what I said." I responded matter-of-factly. "It's the storm season here and 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 delivering drugs, as I really had no proof, yet my excuse was still valid. 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, rubbing my mouth. "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 he took something from under his raincoat and tossed it over to me. I barely managed to catch the rolled-up cash and stared in disbelief at it in my hand. I didn't think I had ever held so much money at once.
"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.
I could feel my jaw practically hitting the floor as I stared back at him in utter shock. "Are you bribing me?"
"If that's what it takes." he responded seriously.
I couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "No. No way. This is like, what? A couple of thousand dollars? You realize you're making me think your smuggling drugs here, right?"
His face went flat as if he was insulted. "It's twelve thousand, and I can assure you Mr. Hadson, there are no drugs involved. This package is simply—,"
"Very important, right. Like you haven't said that already." I interrupted, sighing heavily and running a hand through my hair. "I still can't in good conscience take this money."
"You said it yourself. Money's tight. I'm sure that this would be more than 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 voice.
"I could have gone to any other company to do this, but I didn't. I chose you because you have an excellent track record and seem more than capable of handling a simple delivery like this. Not to mention all the goodwill I have heard from others about your service. I am more than willing to consider this more of an investment into your company, and if you are seriously worried over drugs then you are more than willing to take as close a look as you need of this box and the stone inside."
He held the box back out to me, waiting patiently for me to take it before.
"Christopher, I understand your reservations, but do this old man this favor. I once again have to state how important this is to not only me, but so many others." he pleaded earnestly, his hazel eyes boring into my own.
I stared back for a moment, still awkwardly holding the cash and caught off guard from the use of my first name, and took a glance at the box before sighing heavily. However strange the circumstances, the simple fact was he was offering me more than I needed and I saw no real reason to pass it up. And to ease my worry, I would check the box over thoroughly to ensure he was telling the truth.
And whether it was intentional or not, his praise of my company and work had appealed greatly to my small need for validation.
"You make it sound like the end of the world if I don't do this." I responded lightly, shaking my head before reluctantly taking the box from his hand, chewing on my lip slightly before continuing. "All right. I'll do it. Would be hard to pass up this kind of pay anyway. I feel like I should be thanking you."
The man smiled widely and stepped closer to tightly place a hand on my shoulder. "No, thank you, Mr. Hadson." he said, shaking me slightly. "You have no idea the good you are doing here."
I laughed a little at his exaggeration and nodded. "If you say so."
He patted my shoulder a few times, still smiling, before removing it and turning to leave. I found myself surprised at his sudden departure and took a few steps to follow before stopping, opting to just call out to him.
"Hold on just a second, sir. I need some contact information for the record book and no amount of cash is getting you out of standard paperwork. Legal reasons and all."
He stopped and turned. "Ah, yes… of course. Will a name and contact number suffice?"
I simply nodded, and he reached back under his raincoat and pulled out a wallet opening it and pulling out a card that he passed to me. It was a business card that had his name, Fredrick Bervman, and a contact number and email. I didn't recognize the company name on it, but it must have been profitable if he was able to afford to throw around wads of cash.
I nodded and looked up, only to see he had already moved away and was at the hanger door. I still found his eagerness to leave strange but chalked it up to him having other places to be.
"I'll contact you when the delivery is made." I called out, grabbing his attention again. "And I hope this opens the door to future opportunities!"
He stood still at the open door, staring out into the storm before casting me a glance. From the distance, I couldn't really make out his expression all too well, but I swear it almost looked sad. Without a word, he slipped into the rain and disappeared.
I stood there, holding the strange box, roll of cash, and his business card in silence. Everything about the conversation had been strange, and his departure only brought back my earlier feeling of unease. I shook myself of the feeling, deciding it best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Well, that was certainly something." I remarked quietly to myself, sighing as I looked down at the box.
Can't believe I agreed to this, but twelve thousand is twelve thousand...
The man, Fredrick, was obviously desperate if the thousands of dollars were anything to go on. I was also no longer convinced he was a drug dealer or that this had anything to do with drugs, not that I still wouldn't be double checking, yet there still seemed to be more to the situation than he was letting on. No one went that out of their way to deliver any old wooden box.
Then again, he did make it a frequent point of it being 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 again as I turned around and headed to the small office located in a small building in the back of the hangar. It wasn't much, just a space to do all the non-plane things the job demanded. Entering the office I headed for my desk. It was covered in all sorts of papers, from weather outlooks to bills yet to be paid, but I doubted those would be a problem for the time being.
Seriously! Who just throws around cash like that!?
I dropped into the chair in front of my laptop, putting both the cash and box down next to it. I woke it up, logged in, and opened the flight logs spreadsheet in Excel.
I hadn't been 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 but I ignored it—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.
The business had been slow for the past few months. It had always been slow, actually. It's hard to compete with corporations like UPS or Fedex as an independently owned company. When I first opened Hadson Air Delivery three years prior 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? Might not have been the future I had seen for myself in my childhood, but it was one nonetheless.
I was quickly able to find a stable enough supply of customers by advertising cheaper short-range deliveries as well as deliveries to the Caribbean, Mexico, and Bahamas, all on the cheap. It was enough demand to keep the business afloat the last few years, so in the end, I was happy enough, even with the looming threat of a bigger company just buying me out or taking 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.
That's what I told myself, at least.
I opened the spreadsheet tab for the current month and looked at the log. There was only one delivery made during August about two weeks prior. A delivery of about five large packages to Pensacola had got me about $1,350, which was enough for the fuel and for expenses, but not much else, and the year overall I was barely breaking even. Twelve thousand dollars would go a long way for both me and the company.
I let out a breath and entered the next delivery, scheduling it for the next morning. August 25th, 2018.
With that done, and seeing how late it was getting, I closed the laptop, grabbed my phone that had been on the desk and stood to leave. Checking it, I saw I had a few new emails, some from the bank and some from the airfield, and also a missed call and voicemail. I decided to ignore all of it for the moment, including checking over the package again, telling myself I'd check them when I got home and walked out of the office leaving the box and money locked inside.
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The weather had cleared later that night. Storms in Florida didn't usually last too late into the night, and the winds that week were from the west meaning no morning storms were expected. That was the best time to leave. By the time 8:00 am rolled around the skies were mostly clear and a pleasant milky white blue. More importantly, the runway was dry and ready for the coming day'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. 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 before they formed.
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 as it always seemed to when I flew. Pulling up, I gained altitude before I turned heading east to Bermuda, and by 8:45 am I was well on my way with nothing but clear skies and a favorable tailwind.
The twin props hummed loudly as I climbed up and out of the stray 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 the moment to grab something to snack on from my bag and simply enjoy the view. 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 swear I had never felt as free. 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, not that any of it was necessary to know to get into the air force. 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 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.
I was understandably 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.
Ever since, I simply took each day as it came. Content to do what I loved and make decent money from it. But the cloud of my parents never truly went away, and some days it felt like it may never dissipate. On days like that, the best thing I could do was fly my worries away. Maybe it wasn't healthy, but it was what seemed to work.
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 away, taking a moment to check over the instruments and make sure everything was in the green.. But my eyes didn't stay ahead for much longer.
There was something, entrancing about the box all of a 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.
I stared at the box, realizing I hadn't actually checked it over again for any signs of deceit. I turned the box over, deciding to check the bottom again for any creases or hidden flaps, when the sound of the stone tumbling around inside grabbed my attention.
I put the box upright again, finding a strange need to examine the stone inside again, as I opened it up and grabbed the rock.
It was no bigger than an inch, was silver in color, and looked to be made of some crystal instead of stone. Running a finger along its smooth surface I examined the symbol on it. It was another dragonesque creature—much like the ones on the outside of the box—yet far sleeker in appearance. The only discernable features were its four short, stout legs, a long tail with fins at the tip and base, and an almost oval-shaped head. It was also colored black, as if it was made from a different kind of rock, contrasting with the monotone silver stone. The creature was wrapped around in a circle, almost biting its tail.
Huh, not nearly as intimidating as the carvings… I noted 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 nonetheless. It was as if pressure was coming out in waves against the skin in contact with the stone.
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, making it a point he decided against any of the bigger companies over me. He claimed it was because of good reputation, which was technically true, but it still felt odd that it had to be me.
A thought crossed my mind that maybe he had picked me because he knew he could bribe me with all that cash far easier than an actual million-dollar company, which would make sense.
I sighed, my attention falling away from the stone as I decided it wasn't all too important to worry about. I could always inquire further with the man when I updated him on the delivery. My eyes wandered the central screen on the dash, focusing on the time displayed.
10:15 already? Jeez, must've really been lost in thought. Probably all the weirdness in such a short time I concluded.
I then turned my focus back onto the stone, but after not really noticing anything particularly interesting about it, decided to go back to check the rest of the glint of light caught my attention, though, and this time it hadn'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 towering miles high and miles across.
"Where did that even come from?!" I exclaimed out loud in a 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 white 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 falsely 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, dropping the stone in my hand. 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 imminent death.
I tried once again to turn the control stick, only for it to resist. It was jammed, and the whole plane suddenly began to jitter as if it was being grabbed and hauled towards the storm.
"Of course that's broken too." I remarked, fear evident in my voice as a cold sweat began to build across my body.
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 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 had begun going AWOL, only fueling my fear and anxiety. For another minute I tried desperately to get any form of response from the plane, all the while the sound of rain railing against the windows drowning out the sounds of the engines.
A thought crossed my mind about the Bermuda Triangle and how I had never put any weight on its existence but found the thought fleeting when compared to the more pressing issues I was facing.
I tried my best to steady the plane as the turbulence rocked it back and forth, but the plane remained unresponsive. Whatever forces were responsible for my 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 to God that my plane somehow managed to glide through in one piece.
I thought about how this situation had been exactly what I had voiced concern over to Fredrick, and had half the mind to give the old man an earful if I got out of this mess. My angry thought was interrupted though when an out-of-place purple light began to fill the cabin.
I looked around to find the source, only to glance down and see it was the stone I had dropped that was glowing. For a moment I became entirely transfixed on it the strange sight as I leaned down and picked it up, letting out a ragged breath when I felt that strange pressure from before once again brushing against my skin.
The entire stone, except for the symbol, continued to glow an eerie 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 increasing. 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, but found myself unable to put the stone done as I continued to just stare at it.
It almost felt as if the stone was staring back at me, boring its gaze into my mind and leaving something behind along with a growing headache.
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 likely 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. Even the lightning outside seemed to take on the same hue as the glowing stone. 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 embedding itself into my right wrist. The energy and heat of the stone seemed to begin making their 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, the sudden jerk momentarily halting my screams.
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 for 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, after another loud crack of thunder, 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 look.
That damned look.
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.
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L.F. Wade International Airport, Bermuda, 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 southwest from Bermuda. I received some transmission from the pilot, but it was too 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.
Update AN:
This chapter was written nearly four years ago, and since I was already going back and fixing some issues with the earlier chapter, I thought I might as well do a near-complete rewrite of this chapter. Nothing has really changed story-wise, I just felt I could write it better now
Revised Chapter: 9-4-22