Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
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Part 1
Captain Dean Stalker was walking through the airport like he owned it. His ideally shaved face was complimented by the snow-white shirt with four gold stripes on the shoulders, tucked in his perfectly lined pants. He was looking great and he was feeling the same way. Although he was soon to blow the candles on his birthday cake, and the first digit would no longer be a 4, his body was in great shape. He hasn’t skipped a workout in the gym for years. Still not a single white hair, instead Captain Stalker was one of those rare cases blessed with a crow black hair, never to be bold. This was most probably the reason he was not wearing his pilot hat, carrying it in his left hand instead.
The walk through the airport was part of his show and he was performing it well. People turned their gaze towards him, so the magic was working. Although the pilots’ image changed through the years and was not what it used to be, there was still a lot of respect. And a handsome man in a uniform would always be an eye-catcher, no matter what.
The Sacramento International airport was rather small, not the typical representative of an “International” one. That was the main reason Captain Stalker had convinced his family to move east to the Sacramento area a few years back. The airport’s compact size meant less commuting and quicker passages through security and check-ins, a significant perk for someone in his line of work. Although his wife found it challenging to settle in, feeling out of place in the quieter setting, Captain Stalker quickly felt right at home. He soon got to know most of the people working here, and what was more important, many got to know him. He was content, yet unaware of the unforeseen consequences this move would eventually bring.
Dean Stalker glanced at his watch: just past 6 a.m., still an hour until departure. He calculated that he’d have enough time to clear security and settle into the cockpit well before takeoff. With a firmed step, he boarded the train car bound for Terminal 2. The doors slid shut behind him, and after a brief ride, he stepped out into the security check area. As expected at this early hour, only a few travelers were present, each moving silently through the sparse crowd.
“Good morning, Tina,” Dean said, handing over his ID with a smile. “Shining and lovely, as ever.”
Tina smiled back. “Hello, handsome. Where to today, honey?”
“A mile-high city, dear,” Dean replied, acknowledging their familiar game. He felt a hint of sadness thinking about her retirement next month. “I’m going to miss these chats, Tina.”
“Stay safe, will you?”
“You bet,” he winked, leaning in to pick up his ID.
Dean observed the passengers lining up at the X-ray scanner. Barefoot, with pants sagging and shirts untucked, they shuffled slowly through the machine. Years ago, the Transport Security Administration removed the requirement for pilots to follow these same procedures. Pilots had complained about the humiliating nature of the process, arguing it undermined their professional image. In response, the TSA exempted them from this ritual. Now, instead of the X-ray scanner, pilots simply walked through a metal detector, without having to remove anything.
Dean placed his carry-on on the conveyor and stepped through the metal detector. This was routine for him, something he did dozens of times a week, so he hardly gave it any thought. He never left any coins, keys, or other items in his pockets, so he never set off the detector. Today was no exception. The machine remained silent, and Dean looked to the TSA agent for confirmation he could proceed. The young man nodded, and Dean stepped to the other side of the belt to retrieve his suitcase. He grabbed it, extended the handle, and headed towards Gate 17. He had only walked a few feet when a voice called from behind.
“Excuse me, captain.”
Dean turned around and saw the TSA agent approaching. “Yes, what’s up?” The pilot raised his eyebrows.
“Sir, I apologize. Would you mind coming with me for a moment?”
Captain Stalker turned and walked towards the agent. “Did I miss something?” he asked, looking down to ensure he was still holding his pilot’s hat.
“No, sir,” the young man seemed confused. “But we need to go to the security room. I don’t think it will take long.”
“I hope you’re right, as I was planning to get a cup of coffee before boarding,” Dean replied, glancing at his watch, and shrugging his shoulders as he followed the agent. He thought to himself, God damn it, this must be one of those transit prisoners. It was rare, but not unusual, for someone being moved interstate, and the flight crew had to be briefed in advance. Not only do these guys get escorted instead of riding a prison bus, but they also get treated like rock stars. Cuffed rock stars, of course.
The agent opened the door of the security room and Dean stepped in. To his surprise, there was no one inside, just a table and two chairs around it. Captain Stalker turned back to the TSA agent, when a man rushed into the room. He was a short, well-rounded guy with a face all red and sweaty, as if the man was practicing for the Olympics a moment ago. He stepped in front of the pilot and reached out his plump, hairy hand, putting a big smile on his face.
“I am so sorry to keep you waiting, sir. My name is Marty Sanders, and it is a great pleasure meeting you,” he managed to say, between two heavy breaths.
“Captain Stalker,” the firm handshake of the pilot squeezed the soft hand like jelly. “Gentleman, can you please tell me how can I help you? I have a hundred and fifty passengers to get to Denver.”
“Of course, Mr. Stalker. I mean Captain Stalker, apologies, sir. I ran here immediately after receiving the phone call. My office is all the way in the checking area, so it took me a minute to get here,” Marty Sanders said, still trying to calm his breath. “Who would have expected this to happen today, and during my shift,” he exclaimed, rapidly turning his head from the pilot to the agent and back. “I was just preparing my morning tea and at the next moment, dang, it happened. Doctor Conner will go insane when I tell her. Oh my God, should I call her now, or no, no will call her later.”
My apologies, Mr. Santos,” the pilot started.
“It is Sanders.”
“Sanders, okay! Mr. Sanders, I am not sure I am able to follow what you are saying,” the plans for a morning coffee were quickly fading away.
“Yes, yes, of course, please excuse me again, I grabbed the paper and tried to come as quickly as possible. I understand you. We don’t want to lose any more time. But don’t worry Mr. Stalker we are ahead of time. We’ve tricked time if I may say so.”
Captain Stalker looked again at his watch. According to him, they did not trick the time at all. Instead, time was running as usual and soon he would have to come up with a trick to explain why he was not in his captain’s seat. He looked at the TSA agent, who shrugged his shoulders, obviously in the same situation as the pilot. So far not getting a word the man was saying.
“I work for Biotronix Limited, as you had probably already noticed,” Marty Sanders said, pointing at the logo on his shirt. He paused, waiting for the effect of this announcement, but as such did not occur, he continued.
“Yeah, I guess we are still a small company,” he sighed. “But not for too long, not for too long. Especially after today, of course. Captain, you’re the first to benefit from years of our intense research and hard work. Congratulations! I am pretty sure they will be able to fix you in no time.”
It was the second time the short man extended his hand to shake Dean’s, but this time his fingers survived another firm squeeze. Captain Stalker’s eyes were blinking.
“Fix me?”
“Yeah, well I am not a specialist, but I think we have all reasons to be very optimistic,” Mr. Sanders encouraged the pilot.
Captain Stalker’s fuse was burning out. So far the pilot managed to stay patient, trying to make all efforts to understand what this merry, bulging guy was trying to tell him, but this was quickly changing. There were probably a hundred reasons for a flight to get delayed, but this situation was definitely not falling within that list. At least not in Captain Stalker’s 23 years of aviation experience.
“Gentlemen, you may continue here without me.” He said with a face like a thunderstorm, where the chances of lightning coming out his eyes were getting pretty high. Dean Stalker headed towards the door, stepping beside Marty Sanders, who stayed with an open mouth.
But before the pilot could go out, a white-haired man walked into the security room. His glance fell right on the pilot and he froze.
The pilot’s eyes widened in surprise seeing the Airport Manager, who obviously also had some role in this strange morning.
“Roy?”
“Hello, Dean,” the white-haired man said.
“What the hell is going on? Who is this guy,” Dean tapped a finger on the side of his head, “from some Bio-trio company who has been holding me here for 20 minutes, ranting gibberish I can’t make any sense of?”
Roy Higson shook his head and released a deep sigh.
“It’s OK, Dean. We will try to sort it out now,” and then added, turning to the young agent, “Thank you for calling me right away, Jerry. I think you can go back to work now, I will take care of the things here.”
The man nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him, followed by the pilot’s amazed look.
“I don’t think I can stay any longer, Roy. I am already pretty damn late. Hope you will be able to decipher this guy’s talk and we can catch up later. Maybe see you over the weekend.”
“There is no need to hurry Dean, I called in for a replacement,” the airport manager said.
“YOU DID WHAT?”
“Dean, calm down. Take a seat for a moment? How are Mary and the kids?” Roy was stepping back and forth.
“What do you mean by calling for a replacement?” Dean ignored the question.
“Well, I don’t think you are flying today, Dean,” the airport manager said.
Marty Sanders stepped in.
“Mr. Stalker, let me explain one more time”
“You shut up!” Stalker turned his back to him
“Roy?” the pilot was outraged.
“Ok Dean, I am not sure what you have been told so far,” he looked at Sanders and continued,” but maybe it will be best if I start from the beginning. Six months ago, we were approached by Biotronix Limited, which this gentleman Mr. Sanders here works for. They are a high-tech company developing some remarkable innovations. In the last few years, they worked on some, I would say, amazing technology. So, as I already mentioned, they came to us with an offer to do an installation of their product at the airport“
“What does all this have to do with me, Roy?”
“I am getting there, just a second. So, we accepted the offer and they installed this “thing” in the metal detector at the security check. I honestly am not very familiar with the details, but what I know is that it can detect cell changes in people walking through it”
“Oh, the details” Mr. Sanders chimed in with great enthusiasm. “I can give you the details” and before anybody could stop him, he continued “We added a full computed tomography scan equipment in the security scanner, you know, like those at the hospitals, but of course much smaller and way more advanced. It spins 120 times faster than what has been ever made so far, allowing for a full body scan of a patient who just walks through. It is based on the laser beam rays at the ultrasound spectrum, cutting your body into millions of image slices. With zero radiation, by the way,” Sanders put his thumb up “Once the images are taken, they are sent to our Big Data servers for analysis. At this point, our remarkable piece of software, which those worthless losers at “DrawScan” can only dream of,” Sanders giggled “is doing millions of calculations and analysis of the acquired data, providing instantaneous response with the outcome to the patient.”
“The patient? You mean the passenger?” Dean felt like he was holding a piece of a puzzle which he desperately was trying to put in place, but it just wouldn’t fit.
“Well, in fact, it’s not for passengers yet,” Roy said. “Until we solve some legal problems, we decided for now to use it only at the metal detector, for the airport and crew personnel. When it discovers an anomaly, it is tuned to immediately alert the agents at the security check and also the technician on shift from Biotronix,”
“Which is what finally happened this morning” Sanders was ready to do the joy dance.
“Roy, what are you trying to tell me?”
“I am afraid Dean, the machine must have detected a developing cancer”
“A brain tumor actually,” Sanders added, nodding rapidly and handed over a sheet of paper.
“A brain tumor,” the pilot repeated whispering. He sensed a cold chill passing through his back. Pulled a chair and crashed on it, dropping his hat on the table. He took the paper and stared at it.
A minute passed by in silence.
“Hey,” he suddenly lifted his head up. “You said that this machine from the future was here for a month, right? How come it did not detect anything till now? I passed through this same metal detector a few days back?”
“That’s the beauty of it, Mr. Stalker,” said Sanders. “We are able to catch abnormal cells from a very early stage. Literally from the first time they appear. That’s what makes the survival prognosis outstanding for you,” he smiled encouraging, raising a thumb up. “Yesterday they were not there, today they are.” he almost sang.
The pilot raised his hand holding the image.
“I have no idea what I should be seeing in here.”
“Me neither,” said Sanders and shrugged his arms.
“What do you mean by ‘no doctor’?”
“Well, I am not a doctor, I have no idea what it means. I am just a technician, who makes sure that our system is operational”
“So, who is the doctor who sent you this?”
“There is no doctor”
“WHAT?”
“Mr. Stalker, as I told you this is an analytic software. I guess we can call it a computer doctor. He clapped his hands. “That’s actually a great idea, I will propose that to our marketing department. But the diagnosis is immediate. You cross the machine, you get a diagnosis right away.”
Captain Stalker’s senses kept telling him that something must be wrong here.
“What are the chances that your machine has made a huge, terrible mistake here?” the pilot kept pushing harder and harder on that puzzle piece, that couldn’t and couldn’t fit in.
“To tell you the truth Mr. Stalker, it is less than a fraction of a percent. We were 100% accurate in predictions of developing cancerous cells in tests we performed on the pigs.”
“PIGS?!”
“Yes, pigs—they all died,” Sanders said, hastily adding as he backed away two steps from the pilot, “Oh, but of course, we didn’t treat them.”
Captain Stalker was not sure about a tumor in his brain, but the thing he could feel with very high certainty, was the huge tornado that was forming in there.
“Wait a minute here!!!,” he shouted pointing fingers at the two men, “You both must be totally insane. I am listening to some sick clown, telling me some nonsense about machines, robot doctors, experiments with dying pigs, and all kinds of bullshit. He claims I have a brain tumor, with ‘good survival prognosis’, and he is a TECHNICIAN for God sake! What kind of a sick game are you playing here? Are you making fun of me?” Captain Stalker threw the paper on the ground and turned to Roy.
“If I am not really dreaming all this absurd, you told me I am not flying today, right?”
“That’s right, Dean.”
“Then I’m out of here, straight to my doctor. Just wait and see what I’ll do if all this turns out to be a hoax,” he leaned towards Marty Sanders, then stormed out, slamming the door behind him—his pilot hat left forgotten on the table.
“Yeah, the hospital is exactly the place you want to go next,” said Sanders to the closed door.
* * *
Part 2
“No, nothing can be seen, Mary. The hair covers it all,” he said, looking at the mirror.
“I told you, dear. Even if it is visible, they said the scar would gradually disappear anyway. However, it’s been only a month,” she said.
“Hey, what is that?” he cried, “Mary, come over here!” She jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom.
“What is it, Dean?”
“What is THIS,” he pointed sharply at a strand of hair on his side, “Are these white hairs?”
“Oh my God, Dean,” she sighed in relief. “Please, let’s go to bed. Don’t freak me out”
Dean turned to the mirror and continued to look closely at his hair. “Damn it. That’s the last thing I want. White hair. Can you dye it?”
“To put dye on a few hairs? Are you kidding me? They are barely noticeable, and only if you look closely at them.”
“I do not want any of my colleagues to see me like this.” He began to spin in front of the mirror and thoroughly examined his hair from all angles.
“Dean, no one will pay any attention to a white strand of hair on your head. Everyone will be just glad to see you alive and healthy,” she added softly, heading back to the bedroom. “Let’s thank God that all we have to deal with now is a few white hairs.”
“God,” he laughed, “what does God have to do with this?”
“Dean,” she stopped, turning to face him. “You know you shouldn’t talk like that, right?”
“Mary, please,” he sighed, rubbing his temples, “just don’t start again with this nonsense, okay?”
“Dean,” she said, her voice tinged with concern, “hasn’t something changed for you in the last few months?”
“Look, I don’t know what you expect to have changed, but it’s all in the past, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay?” he said sharply. “There was a problem, it was resolved, and everything is back to normal.” He switched off the light and passed by, leaving her in the dark.
Mary looked down.
“Come on, are you coming?” he called.
“I’m coming.”
Dean walked to the window and opened it wide. A rush of cool air came in. It was still September, but the evenings were starting to get cold. “We missed the whole summer because of this shit,” he thought to himself. He had to cancel their trip to Hawaii and spent 10 days recovering at the University Hospital after the surgery. Dean wanted to reschedule the vacation as soon as he got back home, but the doctors told him not to rush. “What a bunch of assholes. They’d rather have me stuck here in this blazing heat, instead of relaxing on the beach.”
Mary had switched off her night lamp and was lying on her back in the darkness. Dean lay beside her.
“Are you asleep?” he asked.
“No.”
“Will you pick up my uniform from the dry cleaning tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is Sunday, Dean. They are closed on Sundays. I took it yesterday.”
“Thank you, honey,” he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
Except for the few white hairs that annoyed him, the pilot was feeling great. Roy had called him a couple of weeks back to check how his recovery was going, and they agreed he was ready to return to work. He was flying to New Orleans on Monday and could hardly wait.
“Dean?”
“Yes.”
“Will you come to church with me tomorrow?” In the dark, Mary didn’t see the wrinkle that appeared on Dean’s forehead. If she had, she might have kept quiet. Instead, she added, “You know, I prayed a lot for you.”
“You’ve wasted your time,” he sighed heavily.
“Dean, I don’t want to say this, not even think it, but you do realize that you could have died, right?”
“I know. I was lucky.”
“You call this luck?”
“What should I call it, Mary?” his tone sharpened.
“Do you think all that happened was just luck and good chances? Didn’t you see that things happened like a miracle? It’s not just luck. This happened by God’s will.”
“Mary, please. By God’s will,” he mocked her, “God had no role here. If the smart guys hadn’t invented the X-ray machine at the airport, would your God have whispered in my ears that I had a tumor in my brain? Or maybe He would have cured me magically without even telling me about it? It’s good that there are people who don’t waste their time on church walks and prayers, but instead deal with more useful things, like science.”
Mary felt like sinking into the bed. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it without a word coming out. Dean decided it was time to end this topic once and for all. The events of the last few months seemed like an undeniable argument.
“If we were to wait for your God, we would still be in the Stone Ages.” Dean paused, looking at Mary in the dark. “See, I don’t mind what religion preaches. Observing some moral rules and principles is fine, but you telling me that I am alive today because of some invisible, imaginary force is too much for me.” He let the words hang for a moment. “If that’s how things worked, everyone would just sit and pray all day and wait for the stars to start falling from the sky.”
“Don’t talk like that, Dean, please.” Mary’s voice was sad. “You can’t speak like that! It’s not right.”
“I can, Mary. And you should too. You don’t realize how much your admiration for something that doesn’t exist affects you.” He paused, letting the silence linger. “It seems you don’t understand how you’re trapped by religion. You don’t see how it manipulates and controls people.” He shifted in the bed. “But I see that the era of the gods is ending. It’s the time for people now. Science is taking over the role of your God. Since I don’t waste time going to church like you do, I have time to read. I’ll give you examples, hoping you can draw your own conclusions and stop bothering me with this nonsense.”
“Do you know that two centuries ago, half of the children died before their fifth birthday? Can you believe that? HALF!” Dean paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. “Today, it’s one in several thousand. The same goes for women giving birth. Half of them used to die during childbirth.” He paused again, his voice intensifying. “Average life expectancy was 40 years. Now it’s doubled. Not to mention the people who died of hunger or natural disasters.”
“Did your God invent vaccines or antibiotics? Did He feed the hungry or heal the sick?” Dean looked at Mary, expecting some reaction. “Come on, Mary,” he burst into laughter, the sound bitter. “Or maybe it was HIM who brought human progress to where it is today, not like just a few decades ago? It’s all due to human hard work, ingenuity, and persistence, not the God you pray to.”
“Dean, you’re only looking at the surface,” Mary whispered, her voice soft but earnest in the quiet of the bedroom. “But you can’t see deeper. God is in everything around us. He’s in me and you, in the trees and animals, even in stones, if you will. NOTHING happens without HIS permission and HIS will.”
Dean scoffed, a skeptical smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Mary, you’re not about to recite the Bible now, are you?”
She sighed, feeling the distance between them widen, “This is the truth, and whether you accept it or not, is up to you. But God doesn’t act in the ways you expect. No, God won’t whisper in your ear when you’re sick. He acts invisibly and yes, in a magical way, just as you ironically put it. His methods are what you call chance and luck. He works through people and their actions. If you listen, you can hear HIM.”
“This is nonsense.”
“No, it isn’t, Dean. You just refuse to believe it. Only God saved you from that tumor. Don’t you see that they could have installed that machine anywhere else in the world, or just two months later, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation now.”
“Do you think science and human progress mean nothing? That everything depends on God?”
“Yes, I really do. God is the one who inspires talent and ideas.” she took a slow breath. “Through people, He leads and directs the world as He sees best. But He doesn’t show Himself in a bright light for everyone to see. He works within each of us. Man is merely a vessel for His will. We are foolish to think we discover and invent on our own. This ignorance among scientists blinds them, leading them to think they are the gods of today. But the reality is simple. When God decides the world is ready for antibiotics and vaccines, the person to invent them is born.”
Mary took a sip of water and whispered softly, “Some people think they control everything, that it all depends on them.” She looked directly at him. “Dean, God saved you, and I don’t know why He chose to. Maybe He has plans for you. You should be grateful to HIM and not be so arrogant. Only God decides who lives and who dies.”
“I know you’ve had a tough time recently, Mary, and I understand,” he said, yawning, the tiredness evident in his voice. “Things are back to how they were before. Let’s move on, alright?”
“Things can never be the same, Dean.” Her voice trembling. “Life moves forward. If you think everything is the same, then you haven’t learned anything.”
“Mary, I’m tired.” Dean’s voice dropped to a whisper, heavy with fatigue. “Let’s go to sleep now. Tomorrow, I’m thinking of taking the kids to the park to play some ball.”
“Okay Dean, if that’s what you want, fine.”
“Good night,” he said and turned to the window, his eyes staring at the dark sky.
“Good night,” she sighed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dean mind shut that topic and switched into the way more interesting subject of a thought he had for a while. There needed to be some compensation for all those unexpected woes that struck him lately. “Yes, I am buying that new set of golf clubs,” he finally decided and a wide smile stretched his face, seconds before the sleep carried him away.
Mary could not fall asleep. Her brain was spinning around everything that had happened since Dean called from the airport. She remembered how he screamed on the phone and at first she couldn’t get a word of what he was saying. And then she shuddered when he mentioned the tumor. She recollected all the fear, insecurity and panic that filled her whole body and froze her mind for weeks that followed. She went to church every day for the last several months. She finally began to calm down only after the surgery when the doctors assured her that everything would be fine. Unlike Dean, she did not perceive the past few months as he was saying “lost time”. For her, this period was an enormous trial, full of mental anguish. Her only solace was her faith in the Lord and her belief that He would make things right. Today she was happy that He heard her prayers. Dean’s refusal to acknowledge the Lord’s role in the timely discovery and successful removal of the tumor reduced her to tears. With every denial of God’s existence, she felt more and more distant from him. Especially now when everything was so obvious.
Mary stayed awake long after midnight before she finally fell asleep. Her sleep was restless, filled with strange dreams where nothing made sense—a deafening thunder, screaming people, and large oak tree trunks sliced like matchsticks by some gigantic force. Mary woke up, drenched in a cold sweat, standing in bed. She managed to calm herself down within a few minutes and fell back asleep. When she woke up in the morning, she had no recollection of the dream.
* * *
Part 3
Just about six months after the last time he was here, Captain Stalker entered the airport. He looked around victoriously and started walking towards the security check. For an outside observer who knew Captain Stalker from before, nothing in his appearance had changed. Yet, for the ONE who could see beyond the surface, the absence of change was even more surprising. It seemed as though everything that had happened in the last six months, had happened to someone other. Not to Captain Dean Stalker.
Dean passed through the airport in a few minutes and soon found himself in front of the metal detector. He froze and gazed at it for a moment, then stepped forward. As he was passing, he hesitated for a moment and perked his ears if something was going to happen. Yet, no sound came out, no light lit. Dean turned his head around to see if some sweaty fat employee of the “BioWhatEver” company would suddenly appear out of nowhere. But no, there was nothing. The pilot grinned and gave the machine a friendly pat, much to the surprise of the TSA agent. “Should be thankful to God, Dean.” “Yeah, right,” he laughed, recalling the words from the night before.
“Hey, hey, hey, look who’s here,” a voice cried behind him. Dean turned and saw the wide smile on Roy’s face.
“Hey Roy, how are you doing?” Captain Stalker stepped toward him and they hugged in a firm grip.
“I’m so glad to see you back, Dean!”
“Thank you, Roy. I feel like my vacation lasted way too long”
“Ha, ha, ha, I’m glad you took it that way,” Roy laughed, his body shaking. Then his expression turned serious and added, “No, really, so happy to see you back, pal. Lindsey sends you greetings. She was very worried for you. We both were. But look at you, you look fantastic!”
“I am back at the gym,” Dean straightened up. He made sure to quickly regain his previous form, by doubling his routine workouts.
“Hey, look what I’ve got for you,” Roy said, pulling Dean’s pilot hat.
“God damn it Roy, where did you find it? I thought I’ve lost it.”
“You left it when you rushed away from here last time.”
“Thank you, Roy,” Dean picked it up and put it on his head. “I owe you one. Hey, by the way, I’m hosting a party next Saturday to catch up on everything. Will you and your beautiful wife join us?”
“You bet, Dean. She will be so happy to see you in person. I look at you, Dean, and I can’t believe you’re still the same after everything. We’ve talked so much about you, Lindsey and I. It’s like a miracle, Dean. Thank God everything worked out so well.”
“Here we go again,” Dean thought.
“Given technologies like the one over there, expect even more miracles,” he pointed behind his shoulder. “Hey Roy, I’m getting late again, buddy. I’ll see you on Saturday, OK?” the pilot said.
“Safe flight, Dean,” the airport manager said and sighed heavily as if he somehow felt how busy he will be for the rest of this day.
* * *
Captain Stalker’s plane never reached New Orleans; in fact, it never even took off. Instead, it came to a halt about a mile beyond the end of the runway. The ground radars at Sacramento International Airport detected an extremely rare weather anomaly, known as “wind shear”. occurring precisely as Captain Stalker attempted to lift his plane off the ground. This atmospheric miracle, caused the wind direction to sharply change blowing against the plane’s tail, eliminating the lifting force that had to raise the aircraft. The plane reached the end of the runway and started rolling through the grass. Within moments, the front gear struck a ditch and broke, but the airplane continued moving at over 100 mph on its nose, quickly approaching the trees ahead. It was Captain Stalker’s quick reaction cutting off the fuel supply to the engines just seconds before the crash. His move saved the lives of 156 of the 157 souls on board. The Captain of flight AU6320 was the only one who did not make it, on this sunny and beautiful September morning in the Sacramento valley.
END
