Story 137: Flight 709: The Final Descent

The sky was clear as Flight 709 soared high above the jungle canopy, its twin propellers slicing through the serene clouds. Captain Thomas Hawke scanned the horizon, a calm confidence etched into his features. He’d flown this route dozens of times, delivering supplies to remote outposts during the war. Yet, today felt different—a lingering unease gnawed at him.

The radio crackled with static. "Storm’s brewin’ up ahead, Cap," came the voice of his co-pilot, Frank. "Could be trouble."

Hawke glanced over at Frank and gave a nod. "We’ll steer clear. Keep an eye on the instruments."

But before Frank could reply, a sudden, jarring explosion echoed through the air, and the plane shuddered violently. Hawke’s eyes widened as he looked down. Fire had erupted from one of the engines, spewing debris and smoke into the air. The once peaceful flight had descended into chaos in the blink of an eye.

“We’ve been hit!” Frank shouted over the deafening roar.