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eBook Category: Horror/Science Fiction
eBook Description: Neal's crippled Cessna is going to crash unless he finds a landing strip immediately. A voice over the radio tells him that he can land at an unlicensed airport, but he has to land on runway three-seven, a runway that cannot possibly exist--but does.

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Dragged Into Darkness, 2003
Fictionwise Release Date: March 2005

14 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [22 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [28 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [8 KB] , Portable Document Format (PDF) [168 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [8 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [71 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [78 KB] , hiebook (KML) [29 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [33 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [6 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [8 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [36 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [15 KB]
Words: 2188
Reading time: 6-8 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Portable Document Format (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

It was all going wrong. A storm wasn't predicted but the weather was turning nastier by the second. Puffy white clouds had darkened to a ditch water gray and were now turning black. The light was fading. Rain was splatting the windshield but the propeller smeared the droplets out of the way. To add insult to injury, the Cessna's engine had caught a cold. It coughed on a regular basis and it was obvious it wasn't going to get Neal back home to Davis. All in all, for a light aircraft pilot, the situation was as bad as it could get. He had to get the plane down before circumstances did.

When it came down to it, it didn't matter how good at flying you were. It was about how good a pilot you were and that meant remembering the training. Half of flight training was about how to deal with a situation when it had gone tits up. Well, it had gone tits up now. He would have liked to say he was being gosh-darned brave about it all. But the amount of adrenaline he was producing said otherwise.

Some pleasure flight, he thought bitterly. Get a grip, Neal. Remember--training, training, training.

He tuned the RT to Davis' radio frequency. It was a long shot. He was forty miles from the airstrip and their transmitter wasn't that powerful.

"Davis, this is November-two-three-seven-six-two, requesting emergency assistance."

Static.