Dead on Arrival

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Tarry black horizon. So dark, without contrast, it was as if they weren’t moving at all. Flecks of condensation pecked the wide, arched windshield and disappeared.

Inside the cockpit swirled the pungent odor of nerves. Delta flight #194, the night’s last inbound, and something wrong.

Captain Eleanor Hall stared into the flat Colorado sky and reached overhead to the instrument panel. She twisted the backlit rate knob a quarter turn left.

“Descend to Field Elevation Set. Anything on the radio, Jerry?”

“All I got is static.”

“Not good…” She shook her head and clicked on the engine anti-ice. Then double-checked to see that the fasten seatbelt sign was on. She glanced at the gauges. Just four miles out now, traveling 278 knots with 19 knots on the tail.

“The protocol’s pretty clear.”

First Officer Jerry Weathers put his mouth to the radio. “Hayden clearance, Delta one-nine-four ready to copy IFR.”

In response, he got only static.

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