The young man looked up as the door handle twisted and clicked and the door opened wide allowing a large dark skinned man to walk through the door.

“Why am I being treated like I am some sort of criminal?” growled the restrained man at the rooms new arrival.

Little attention was paid to the comment as the man casually walked towards the table and sat down in the empty chair opposite of the disheveled man.

“Mr. Alrdic,” the man said as he sat down. “I am Agent Barber and I have been assigned to access your case,”the man said once he sat down at the table, “I trust that you will cooperate with me”

Pressing a button on his notepad the cuffs released their hold on the man's wrist allowing him to regain his freedom. As soon as the straps had been removed he began to massage his wrists while glaring at Agent Barber.

“I don’t know what type of place you people run around here,” he exclaimed, “I’m being treated like some kind of terrorist or something. Christ sakes I was only about to crash because of that storm out there!”

“Mr. Aldric please,” Agent Barber asked calmly “I need to ask you some questions.”

“It was an emergency landing, had an engine out and needed to get on the ground fast, didn't think I would get arrested for it! Last time I checked the Gestapo wasn’t in charge!” the frustrated man stated angrily.

“Mr. Alrdic, tell me how you got here again, start from the beginning of your day please if you would.” Agent Barber asked while scanning the notepad in front of him.

“I’ve already told the story twice now,” the frustration in his voice straining to keep from yelling, “Jesus, why the hell can’t I get back to my plane so I can get my gear and get the hell out of this place?”

“Travis…. may I call you Travis? You’ll tell me what I am asking because my partner who is on the other side of that mirror,” pointing at the mirror behind him, “wants to just haul you outside and shoot you so we don’t have to go through all this. I, on the other hand, would like to hear your story because I do not believe what the other people understood you correctly, so please, start from the beginning.”

The prisoner angrily responded, “You can’t just shoot people, I’m a Unit…”

In one swift motion the agent pulled his gun out of its hostler and slammed it down on the table facing the man directly across from him. The prisoner’s eyes had grown wide with terror at the sight of the weapon across from him.

“Travis, the sooner you realize that you have NO rights the better off you will be, or I can just go ahead and shoot you now if you wish…. I’m flexible either way, sure would save me from the paperwork.”

“Okay okay, I get it, you’re the bad cop or whatever. Fine, I’ll tell the story again if that will get me out of here.” Travis sat up straight in the chair and ran his fingers through his hair before continuing.

“I got up this morning around 6:30 and did the basics. Got dressed, checked my email and headed off to the airport around 7:30. I stopped in at the field’s operations center and filed my flight plan for what was supposed to have been a day of cutting holes in the sky. I was heading to St. Louis, then to Indianapolis and back up to Chicago. The weather report was clear, a great day for flying. After I finished up at the operations center I headed over to the hangar and pulled out my plane. That would be the blue and white Cessna 310 that I flew in with that barely made it to the ground. . Anyhow, I got the preflight done on her and then parked my Harley in the hangar.”

“Your Harley?”

“Yes my Harley, she’s a 2005 1200XL Sportster, peril yellow,” Travis responded with a laugh, “Harley Davidson motorcycle, that type of Harley.”

“Please go on.” Agent Barber responded while writing the information down on his notepad.

continue below.....

“So I got her started, the Cessna not the Harley,” Travis said with a smirk, “took off and climbed to six thousand feet and enjoyed the scenery. About a half hour out I started to see the storm clouds gathering in the distance, contacted control and requested a higher altitude to get over the weather. They came back stating they had nothing on their radar but there it was. Next thing I new I was right in it, and then things got bad.

“What do you mean by bad?” the agent asked.

Travis took in a slow breath and continued, “In all my years of flying I had never been in something so bad. I thought for sure I was not going to make it, storm was bouncin me all over the place. I watched the altimeter drop from 6,000 to 500 in a matter of seconds and then back up to 7,500, all I could do was hang on since the flight controls weren’t working for anything. This went on for what seemed like an eternity I can’t even tell you how long it actually lasted but all of the sudden the darkness was replaced with this milky colored haze that spread out everywhere.

“A milky haze?”

“Best way I can describe it really, it was milky colored, kinda of whiteish. I couldn’t see past the nose of the aircraft and could barley see the wingtips but at least the turbulence had past. The muscles in my fingers had locked into a death grip on the yoke and I had a hell of a time trying to release my grip.”

Agent Barber looked up from his notepad at that moment, “Did you ever regain contact with the..um..control?”

“I tried to contact anyone to figure out what had happened,” Travis said, “but no one was answering. I figured that the antenna had been blown off the plane with that roller coaster we had just been through. So there I am, flying through this soup for what I’m guessing is about 10 minutes. There was noting around me according to my navigational gear, it is like there was nothing around me.”

“How so?”

“Everything was gone, blank screens, no radio, no GPS, no nothing, everything was on but not showing anything.” Travis responded.

Agent Barber wrote something on the notepad then looked back up since Travis had stopped talking, “Please continue.”

“Well, it was like I had flown into the eye of a storm or something because the black clouds came back again and started up the rollercoaster.” Travis paused a few moments before continuing, “A few minutes into that lightning hit the port engine and it ignited in flames. I cut everything in relation with that engine and hit the extinguisher to get the flames out as the plane yo-yoed up and down in the turbulence again.”

“So the lightning hit the left engine,” the agent asked, “is that correct?”

“Yeah… the left engine, the port one.....right is starboard in case you didn’t know that either.”

“Thank you for verifying that.” Agent Barber responded.

“Funny,” Travis reflected, “I remember thinking that things couldn’t really get that much worse at that point. Here I am fighting to get the airplane aloft in this weather, and I can’t get the prop on the dead engine feathered so this thing is pullin hard to the port, that’s to the left, with all the drag that prop was causing and then I a lovely site.....well at that moment in time it was a lovely site. Dead in front of me was a huge runway, at least which is what I figured it was I just didn’t know where though.”

“And why did you think it was alright to land your vehicle there?”

“Seriously…. have you even been listening to what I have been saying?” Travis responded before continuing, “I started in on a short final and was tossed around a few more times during the approach. I couldn't see anything else on the runway or much else for that matter since the visibility was still horrible. The radio was out so I couldn't contact anyone, don't think I could have let go of the yoke long enough anyhow since I was fighting just to keep from nosing in.....continue below

I just wanted to get down on the ground in one piece. I kept my decent slope as best as I could and dropped flaps and the landing gear about 100 foot from the runway. I might have been 10 foot above the runway when I got smacked hard with the downdraft that slammed me into the ground me to the ground. Everything went black for a few moments after that, guessing I slammed my head on the yoke since I had blood flowing down my face when I woke up again.”

“Do you know how long you had blacked out?”

“Well I am sure it wasn't all that long, or else the crash team was slow at getting out there, I would have thought they would have seen me coming in on the radar or someone saw me.”

“How many vehicles did you see and how did you know they were the crash team.” the agent asked.

Travis gave he agent a questioning look before responding, “I saw the silhouettes moving towards me from a ways off and just figured it was the crash team since I had pretty much just crashed. Since I had rolled off into the grass I was more worried about getting the starboard engine shut down before some wind gust moved me and caused a prop strike on the ground. After I shut her down I unstrapped and got out.”

“And how did you end up on the ground?”

“Well I am guessing that I got knocked on the head a little harder then I thought. I remember climbing out the door and standing upon the wing and then things started to go black. My guess is that I passed out and fell. Funny thing though, I could have sworn the air was funny when I stood up, must have been the knock on the head though.”

“And why” the agent questioned, “did you think the air was funny?”

“Well it was rather hot, seemed funny since it's March and it just snowed two days ago. Might have been radiant heat from the engine hitting me before I passed out, that's what I'm guesing,” he responded before continuing, “Okay, that's besides the other interrogations I previously had, that has been my day so far. Sucks doesn't it.”

“Travis, can you tell me today’s date?” the agent asked calmly.

“March 3rd.” responded Travis

“The year?”

“You’re kidding right?” Travis answered unsurely, “2008.”

Agent Barber stood up and picked up his notepad, “Thank you Travis, you have been very cooperative.”

“What about me, when can I get out of here!” Travis asked as the agent started to walk towards the door.

“I’ll get someone to come for you” he said abruptly before pulling the door closed behind him.

As Agent Barber stepped out into the hallway and closed the door the door a few feet away opened and another man in a suit walked out.

“So what do you think Gomez, pick up anything while you were in there watching us?” he said while walking down the hallway towards a door and placing his hand on a pad. A blue light flashed across his hand and the other agent repeated the same procedure, then the door opened and they both stepped in. Barber clicked one of the figures on the panel and the doors closed again.

“It is impossible for one, there is no way his story could have went down like that.”

“You’re saying he’s lying about it then?”

“That’s just it, he’s telling the truth, blue orbs across the board.”

“Seriously? That just doesn’t make any sense.” The door before them and they stepped out into another hallway then opened the door before them

Walking through the doorway the entered a large cavern, the first thing that came to their eyes was the blue and white Cessna 310 just as Travis Adkins had described.

“No, it doesn’t make any sense,“ Barber said looking at the aircraft before looking at his partner, “but, have you ever seen something like that before?”

“Never but I have heard other reports of flying craft like these before,” the agent replied, “we got to the mining team that found him and wiped them clean, only team working up on the surface at the time so no one else should know anything about this.”

Clever yarn....a Cessna 310 from Indiananopolis to St. Louis to Chicago?!? Without a stop for fuel???

OK, waiting with baited breath for the rest.....

WW

edit for spelling....and to add....pilots NEVER, EVER say 'port' and 'starboard'....at least, not any that I've met who trained in the US.
'Left' or 'right' (when facing forward). Engines are designated (on jets) by numbers, number one being the first one on the left, etc.

The tire/wheel assemblies are also designated by numbers, left to right, top-down.

OK, carry on!

[edit on 4/25/0808 by weedwhacker]

A Cessna 310 with a range of 1400 miles?

OK....let's work this out. Each wing tank, about 50 gallons. the tiptanks, about 35 gallons each.

So, we have, potentially....170 gallons. The Cessna 310 had the option for aux tanks, but let's ignore that for now.

Each engine burns about 15 gph. That's 30 gph total.

Let's assume a typical Cessna 310 will cruise at about 170K. Based on fuel consumption, (without any reserves) and considering climb and descent....I calculate about 5 1/2 hours' range....unless the airplane is modified and equipped with additional tanks.

170K at 5.5 hours equals about 935 NM. At 180K it equals 990NM. This, with no reserve fuel. Every pilot knows that you should have at LEAST 30 minutes of reserve fuel. If you file IFR, then you are required to have 45 minutes of reserve fuel....that is only if your destination forecast, for one hour before and one hour after your ETA is considered 'VFR'...if the forecast is below minimums, then you must 'designate' an alternate, and have sufficient fuel to fly to, and hold for 30 minutes, and complete the approach to the 'alternate' airport....

So, carry on with your story!

WW

My bad, got my km's and nm's backward. Personally I would figure there would be a stop in St Louis and Indianapolis. Chicago to St Louis about 250/300 miles, St Louis to Indianapolis about the same and Indianapolis to Chicago around 200.

The landing occured midway between Chicago and St Louis in the Bloomington area.

On to create the rest of the story