Captain Elias Thorne watched the altimeter drop with a sickening lurch. Outside the cockpit glass, the sky over the Andes was a bruised purple, flickering with lightning that looked like cracks in the world.
“Airspeed’s decaying,” his co-pilot, Miller, whispered. Her knuckles were white on the yoke. This was her first trans-continental flight since her father’s funeral, and Elias could see the tremor in her hands.
Miller swallowed hard, took a jagged breath, and nodded. She stared back at the horizon, her face turning into a mask of cold stone.
Copyright © 2020 Picroma e.K.
