There’s something freeing about being in a small plane. A part of a group of friends had just gotten their Private Pilot Licenses a month before. We had bonded over traveling in Europe and enjoyed traveling on weekends at our home institution in California after that. On this day, we were traveling back to our school after a weekend-long retreat, our first weekend alone all year. We rented two airplanes from the John Wayne Airport in Santa Ana and split the load between them for the outbound flight. On the way back, they wanted to take a girls’ trip to Santa Monica for the evening, and being the only male in the group, I agreed to split off about halfway from Big Bear Lake to John Wayne airport while they flew to Santa Monica. We had been flying for about ten minutes when we were just chatting it up on 122.85, the US-designated frequency for formation communications.
“You think you’ll get home okay on your own?” the pilot of the other plane joked.
“I’ve flown a Stinson L-5 solo from my home all the way to Oakland, I think I- oh shit!” I cried in surprise as a loud pop came from the engine. A long snake-like object burst from the cowling, immediately followed by all the metal panels around the engine shedding completely off.“What happened?” asked one of my friends from the other plane.
I looked around for a diagnostic. Noticing the engine was still running, but there was a countdown on the electronics screen, I figured it out pretty quickly. “I blew an alternator belt. I’m not in danger, but I don’t know what shape the engine is in, and I have to land.” I looked around and noticed the airfield we had just passed. It was peculiar that I hadn’t noticed it on the sectionals when planning, but there are a lot of airports in this region of the United States, so I didn’t give it much of a second thought. “Should we come and land with you?” Sadie asked.
“No, don’t worry about me. The Skyhawk is a pretty common plane, and if they can’t fix it, you can send the Civil Air Patrol after me.”
“Okay, we have the coordinates. Good luck with the landing, and call us when you get there.”
“Thanks, I will.” I sign off just before the electronics die.
I fly a short downwind, and when I turn on to my base, that is, flying perpendicular to the centerline prior to the final, or the phase where you turn in to make the landing, the airport seemed bigger than when I first flew past it. Something also looked familiar about its shape. I definitely found this off-putting, and under any other circumstances, I would have abandoned the approach and gone somewhere else. But with how bad of shape the airplane was in, I had no choice but to continue. I landed smoothly. “Beat that, Jennifer,” I said aloud. I had to taxi a long way to find an exit, but when I did, I turned off onto Taxiway Echo. The next taxiway I intercepted was designated Alpha, and then I turned left on Mike before getting to the main taxiway, Romeo. I got the strangest sense of deja vu looking at the airport environment. When my scanning eyes rested on the main hangar, my blood ran cold.
It doesn’t happen very often. The only two times I can remember such a thing happening was when I saw an Instagram post that upset me or when a friend responded after I confessed feelings for her. This made both of those feel like playtime. I parked in the area that, despite there being no controller, I knew was the area that the workers would want me to park. That’s because, despite the fact that I’d never been here before, the airport was identical to my home airport. I pulled into the parking space and killed the engine.
Half expecting to see a golf cart drive out of the hangar towards me to ask if I needed services, I waited for a minute as I ran through my post-flight checklist. When everything was done, I stepped out of the plane. It wasn’t hot, but it was midday, so it was about as warm as it was going to get. Despite that, the airport felt completely lifeless, like the time my first summer working at the FBO at my home airport when a plane suffered a gear collapse on takeoff, and the whole airport was forced to shut down. That same dead feeling in the atmosphere was there. I looked at the hangar again and noticed that the doors were almost completely closed.
I must have only seen it from a distance, but it looked long abandoned now that I was looking at it up close. I kept pacing closer to the doors. The trees and hills that were around when I flew in were still there, but looking at the buildings and decaying remnants of airplanes, I recognized all of it. I had only been there that summer, and everything, while quiet, was vibrant and full of life.
I reached the hangar, and looking inside; my heart dropped to my feet. I went inside to the ruins of what looked identical to the FBO I called my third home. Grass grew through the cracked concrete in the floor, and airplanes lay decaying all through the room. I walked up to one that was next to the fuel office. It was surrounded by undergrowth, and its tail number was blocked by the grass. I pushed it aside to take a look. The characters printed in faded blue, and some of them barely visible, read N9678Q.
I stumbled backward, trying not to cry or scream or freak out in any way. I felt the loneliness of the situation set in. I tapped the pin on my shirt, a single-point pin of an ancient Irish chess piece that I had helped a friend buy when she didn’t want the full set. My racing mind instantly stilled at the memory of closeness and value, which came at a time when feeling valued was at a premium. I thought of the people on the other plane, the ones who had restored a sense of purpose to my life after my fear of the end times, combined with the things I was seeing on social media, had twisted and destroyed my faith in God seemingly beyond help. I remembered them and everyone at my school, the memory of being supported in my academic and spiritual battles, and the feeling like everything was going to be okay. Though only a memory, it was enough to steel my resolve and begin looking for a solution.
I looked through the hangar. I looked at the rest of the rotting planes and recognized all their tail numbers. This told me that what I was looking at was not real in the sense that this wasn’t actually my home airport or some kind of time travel. I looked out the hangar and saw the trees and hills just as they had been when I went inside. I looked outside and saw the plane I had flown in on in the same condition, not looking any different. I decided to test something but needed a working vehicle to do so. I approached one of the fuel trucks to the right of the doors, looking out. It was rusted and decaying, but the system looked like it might work.
This was a jet fuel truck, which I couldn’t use for my airplane, but it would get me out to the runway. I went inside, inserted the key into the ignition, and turned it one click. The dashboard lit up, and the truck let out a familiar hissing sound. I knew that it was priming itself. Despite looking as dead as the rest of the place, it still worked. Once the hissing had calmed down, I turned the key again, this time turning the engine. To my surprise, it caught. As the diesel engine was idling away, I got out to remove the chocks from the wheels, which, to my surprise, were there. Instead of putting them up on the fender, I brought them into the cab and put them on the floor of the passenger side. The truck drove like it did when I was working at the FBO.
When I got to the runway, my memory was confirmed, and even with the warmth of the memories of the community I hold so dear, I shuddered. The number on the runway was 8L. I had no idea what this meant, but I knew one thing: something about this place was horribly wrong. I was not home, I was in some kind of ghost town. For reference, if I were home, the numbers on the runway would have read 13L. I drove the truck back to the hangar at full speed, not caring about speed limits or possibly crashing the truck. On my way back, there was a pristine white Robinson R22, which I recognized instantly as my favorite customer from the FBO. Aside from my plane, it was the only other airworthy aircraft I saw. There was no one with it, and when I went inside the hangar, there was no one there or in the office. Something was off about it, though. It was clean, well-kept, and looked new. Not brand new, but functional. I thought about calling out, but knowing how that usually ends in horror movies, I elected not to. The lights switched on when I entered, which, on instinct, I took as a cue to book it the hell out of there.
Upon getting back to the FBO where I had parked, I put the chocks back in place as per the rules and listened to the sound of the silence. I walked over to my plane and tried the battery. To no surprise of mine, the master switch did nothing. For the first time, I inspected the front end of the airplane. It was clear that when the belt blew out, it did some damage. The engine appeared unaffected, but the alternator was never going to work without a physical connection to the engine. I held my hand over the engine block. Without the cover, it was no surprise that it had cooled down quicker than normal.Back inside the hangar, I went to the back side, about halfway to the opposite corner of the entrance. There was our maintenance office. Inside the office was a man. Seeing him startled me at first. He was large and had white hair. He was wearing camo cargo shorts and a black T-shirt. My breath began to rattle as I recognized him. Beginning to see the parallels, I backed away and pulled out my phone. “Didn’t expect to see you back so soon.” Both the suddenness and familiarity of my voice caused me to freeze in place. I slowly began to turn around, and my heart stopped when I saw who was behind me.
I immediately recognized her as one of my coworkers. She looked so normal in comparison to everything else around her. Not unblemished, per se, but just uncannily normal, as if I really were back home.
“What the hell is this place?” I asked with a trembling voice.
“You don’t recognize it here?” asked the entity.
“I do; it’s just that this isn’t home.”
“Sure it is. I’m here, Jeff’s here, as is Landon…”
“No, it’s not that. I went out to the runway to check the numbers to verify, and the numbers didn’t match. The one here was eight left. That would have been one three left at home.”
The entity’s expression fell. “You caught us.” The fear I had felt before hit me all at once, but somehow, there was a comfort in it as well. The way that the entity’s expression changed was not one of disappointment or excitement; it was one that felt like it was relief laced with compassion. “This isn’t an airport; it’s…” she paused as if looking for the right words. “Let’s just say you’re in the Lion’s den. There are creatures here that create these; well, they aren’t illusions in the sense that they’re not real. Go touch that plane over there.” I walked over to 78Q and reached out for its tail. Instead of rusty and old, the metal felt smooth and glossy, as if it hadn’t decayed. It was, however, really there. I turned around to look at the entity, which had changed. It was now a tall biped, not ugly in appearance, but not strikingly beautiful. Its skin was healthy and tough but stretched over a bulky, muscular, and very tall frame. Its limbs were well within the proportion of that of a human, though its face was distinctly inhuman. This isn’t a perfect comparison, but it looked a little bit like the creatures from A Quiet Place.
“Run,” it said. I didn’t hesitate to comply with the order. I ran through the fuel office to the exit door. When I went through, I entered the familiar parking lot where there were cars, but something told me that even they were traps, despite appearing operational. I ran out to the road, which, instead of a back road like the one I was familiar with, was the main road. I turned right and ran, thinking that this would be the way back to civilization. I saw what looked like a town down the road after running for about 100 feet. I instantly stopped and turned around, figuring that the town would have been something worse than the airport.
I ran for a while until I felt like I was going to pass out. I sat down with only the forest anywhere to be seen. I pulled out my phone, which had plenty of battery but no service. I pulled up the voice memo app and began to record. “I don’t know who’s going to find this, but I want my friends and family to hear it. Ask about; they’ll tell you who they are. I made an emergency landing at an unknown airport following the failure of an alternator belt, and I’m stranded in the forest. The road disappeared, and I’m on an obscure trail. I’m tired, dehydrated, and hungry, so I don’t have a lot of hope of getting out of here. The airport was nice enough. Something’s out to get me, but one of its… minions let me go. I’ve been running for about half an hour. I’m not athletic, so this short distance has already killed me. There’s no sign of civilization around me anywhere.”
I looked around and saw what looked like the entrance to a tunnel. It was covered with a corrugated metal door and right next to what looked like a lounge. There was no sign, but I didn’t need one to recognize the building. “Oh, you got to be fucking kidding me,” I said before terminating the voice memo. I turned to run in the opposite direction, but when I did so, I immediately felt a splash in my feet. I looked around and saw that I was inside a tunnel. There were two metal bars tapering into a track that ran along the left side of the floor, with a control box to my left and a bar running over the top of the room. Just past that bar was a curtain of blue fabric strips. I didn’t have to look as far as the strips to know where I was. I could feel myself starting to lose it, largely due to the physical ailments I already mentioned. “That’s it, huh? You’re just going to throw me in my personal hell and leave me here to die?”
“You don’t understand, do you?” The creature behind me had taken another human form, a short, overweight man with long white locks, a goatee of the same shade, and those deep, penetrating brown eyes. My boss at the old car wash I worked at when I was 17 was a nice enough man, but I didn’t get along with his leadership style. God bless his soul, but that was nonetheless a traumatizing experience, especially the last two weeks.
“Understand what?”
“You see, I know you’re not healthy; that’s all by design. I don’t know if this place broke your will, but by running, you drained yourself. That creature didn’t let you go out of benevolence. She knew she would get her meal in due time if she did.”
“Yeah, and who are you, and what do you want?”
“We’re a species of ancient elders, and quite simply, we’re looking for food. We don’t have to hunt often, but the explorers of your generation are easy to come by. They have been quiet lately, so we had to find a way to make this area more appealing to someone. Isn’t it lucky you needed a place to land right as you passed our den?”
“Why are you telling me all this? Isn’t this how the hero usually finds time to escape and defeat the bad guy?” Upon asking this, the entity’s eyes blackened into soulless pits. “There’s no way out. You’ve been trapped here since you entered the downwind.” My heart dropped, and I immediately went to the side of the tunnel and ran.
I felt every bit of my body’s fatigue and had to stop when I got to the end of the tunnel, which wasn’t very long. Instead of the forest out the front of the tunnel, it was the familiar city that I had been living in since the spring of 2019. Instead of the bustling city street, it was dead quiet. I walked down the street, looking for any sign of life. I had started going to the right but eventually turned around. I hoped to find something, like an intersection or the freeway that ran through town. The sun beat down, but for southern California, the air was very dry. I recognized it as the dry heat of the real-life version of the town I appeared to be in. I continued to walk for hours, even until after dark, but the heat persisted. All of a sudden, I found myself lying on the ground.
I didn’t remember collapsing; that’s how bad it was. The fear had been immense, but at this moment, I knew that was it for me. I remembered my friends on the other plane, wondering if they at least had fun before worrying about me. With all my might, I shouted, “Why don’t you motherfuckers just come kill me?” My voice was weak and tired. I even saw the sky begin to light up. I’ve been Christian all my life, but as mentioned before, this summer has been challenging for my faith. I’ve heard that just as you’re about to die, you can see past this mortal plane of existence into what lies beyond. I’ve only ever heard of this twice, but I’ve believed it. I saw clouds reflecting a bright sun with thousands upon thousands into the millions of people all dressed in radiant white robes. They were all praising the figure in the center. I couldn’t see who it was; it was only light. The figure only said five words: “It’s not your time yet.” I then felt my eyelids get heavy, and then I passed out.
I didn’t know what God’s words meant, but for about 5 minutes, I was suspended in my head. It felt like my consciousness had just disconnected from my brain and was just existing nowhere, not on earth, not in hell, not in heaven.
I felt a splitting headache as the light hit me like a ton of bricks. I dragged my heavy eyes open and saw that I was in a hospital. My mouth was dry, and I ran my hands over my skin, and it felt tough and almost scaly. I was alone in the room, but I noticed that the table next to the gurney I was on had an envelope on it. I opened it and found that it had been written by the firm we rented our airplanes from. It read We found the plane, but not the belt. With the shape it was in, you made the right choice by landing. Don’t worry about the cost. We’ve got it covered; just get some rest. I chuckled a little bit. At least I knew the plane was safe. I buzzed for the nurse. When one entered the room, all she gave me was a sly smile, as if she knew what I wanted. “Your friends didn’t even wait for word from you. Sadie said she felt something was wrong, and they called on frequency. The Wilson Aerospace Corporation was immediately alerted and went looking for your location. Your friends reported the position you were flying to, and the plane was found there, but there was nothing else indicating a safe landing spot. It was, however, intact and appeared to have been shut down by a pilot. They did hear a scrambling in the trees, so their arrival must have scared whatever attacked you off.”
“What?” I cut her off. “I landed on a paved runway and parked in front of a hangar, albeit one that was very run down.”
“We didn’t find any evidence of what you claimed to see in your voice memo, but people have gone missing there before. It’s best you just don’t tell anyone for your credibility.”
“Do they believe me?”
“They, as in your friends?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, they have all talked about it, and the ones specifically that were on the plane remember that there was a field just behind you.”
“Where are they? What happened?”
“After they called for the WAC, they turned around to go look for you but started to run low on fuel, and as a precaution, they flew back to John Wayne. They refused to leave the FBO until someone knew where you were.”
I dreaded the answer as I asked the next question. “Where was I found?”
“Only one, maybe two hundred yards away from the plane. You seemed to be suffering symptoms of heatstroke, which should be impossible given it was only 60 degrees outside at the time you were found.”
“I’m not in Orange County, am I?”
“No, the unit that grabbed you was from Palm Springs. That’s where you are. Once you’re healthy, they’ll get you to an air unit and transfer you over to Kaiser Permanente in Irvine for discharge.”
“Isn’t that a little expensive?”
“The WAC has paid the expenses in full. You’re not backing out of this.”
And so that’s where I write this. I’m being transferred back home after surviving what was definitely the hardest afternoon of my life. Not really a lot of inner reflection included, but when you’re processing all that information that fast, it’s really a different animal to try and make sense of it all while trying to write it down. Not to mention that the whole thing is kind of a blur. Honestly don’t know how I remember in so much detail. I just want to warn you that if you ever go hiking at Big Bear Lake, just be careful where you go. They might not hunt you down, but if you get too close, you may end up entering their territory. They like to play with their food, so it’s an awful way to go. Please don’t go testing the area, these freaks of nature know what they’re doing, and you’re no match for them.