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Six miles above the mid-Atlantic, Ken Freeman, the co-pilot of a Boing 747 bound from Paris to New York, thought that he glimpsed a huge dark shadow in front of and above the airplane a moment before something struck it from above. Many of the 265 passengers and crew screamed as dinners and drinks flew off trays and computers and tablets leapt off laps. The stricken aircraft immediately began to lose airspeed and altitude, but regained stability over the next half-minute.
“We retain hull integrity, but I’ve had to boost power 10% simply to stabilize our altitude,” Freeman told Cathy Holcomb, as she returned from First Class to the flight deck and regained her pilot’s seat. "It's as if we have taken on a lot of extra weight and drag."
“So what the hell happened?” Cathy asked, as her eyes reviewed instrument readings.
“Mid-air collision, Boss, it had to be,” Mat Gage the Flight Engineer reported.
“I caught a brief glimpse of something coming down at us, but it hit us before I could react,” added Ken. “I didn’t see what it was, but my best guess is that it was a small plane that struck us a glancing blow. Otherwise there would be more damage. I already radioed that we’ve been struck by something unknown.”
“But the radar and collision avoidance systems should have warned of another airplane approaching us several minutes ago,” protested Cathy.
“Rodger that,” agreed Freeman. “Maybe our radar detection systems aren't working. One of us should go aft and assess damage. I can’t believe that we got off Scott-free; we were struck solid.”
“I’ll do that,” said Cathy. “You and Matt keep this thing flying, and keep me and the flight controllers up to date on any change of status. We’re still a long way from land.”
“Could it be one of those monster birds?” Matt asked, as Cathy stepped past him towards the rear of the flight cabin.
“They’re supposed to be in Europe or Africa,” Ken noted. “Maybe it was a dragon.”
“Nowadays who knows?” Cathy replied, as she closed the flight cabin door behind herself. Could that be it? Maybe. Stories were circulating about giant birds, and about aircraft all over the Eastern hemisphere that were full of only mutilated dead people when they landed. Then there was that kid and his pet dragon. There were also rumors that some sort of deadly epidemic was breaking out in major cities of Europe, but that couldn’t be related to a mid-air collision. Could it?
“Oh my God!” Cathy exclaimed, as she entered the First Class area. The dead bodies of Sam and Kate, two hostesses she knew well, lie contorted and motionless in the aisles. She bent to reach for Sam’s wrist to take his pulse, but withdrew in fear and disgust when she had a better view of the young man. His skin was grey and shriveled, and his glassy eyes and mouth were wide open, reflecting terror and pain.
The two dozen dead men, women and children in the passenger seats around her held similar poses; fear-stuck faces, clenched hands, arched backs, and twisted limbs that appeared to be frozen stiff. They must have all died in seconds, she realized, living only long enough to convulse in pain.
One man’s body looked like the others except for one thing. His head was gone. Neck bones and skin appeared to be torn rather than cut, as if some great force had simply snatched his head off. No blood was visible though, only a blackish slime. Something had converted living tissue and blood to putrid corruption.
Cathy was so distracted by the horrible sight of the bodies that she almost didn’t notice the hole in the aircraft fuselage above her. Bent sheet-metal showed that something had punched a hole in the fuselage several inches across. The thing stuffed in the hole was covered with and dripping blackish slime. She realized with horror that stuffed in the hole, sealing it tight, was the missing human head!
A couple of yards to each side of the hole, gigantic talons penetrated into the cabin and clamped tight onto the hull. It had to be one of those giant monster birds that were in the news, hitching a free ride atop the plane! No wonder there was extra drag and weight! But what had killed everyone in the cabin?
She tried to use her intercom to alert the cockpit crew to the situation but nobody answered! At least the airplane was at still flying steadily but what the hell was happening?
Her head spinning, Cathy somehow found the strength to stumble to the stairwell and descend to the main passenger cabin for a quick look. The sight that met her there was no less horrifying. Those people she could see were twisted, discolored, shriveled, and dead like the others. Most were still in their seats, but several lay in the isles, with wide open eyes that stared lifelessly at her. All of the over two hundred passengers and crew here in the main cabin were also shriveled and dead!
This was only an impossibly terrible nightmare, Cathy reassured herself, as she stood too shocked to react, her head spinning, desperately trying to grasp reason and sanity from the horror that surrounded her. This happened too fast and it was too horrible to be real! It. Couldn’t. Be. Happening! She closed her eyes tight against the horror. She would open them and find everything back to normal.
“Are you the missing pilot?” asked a calm female voice behind her.
Cathy spun around to see standing only a yard behind her a small, stern, middle-aged Caucasian woman survivor dressed in strange black clothing. No, not clothing so much as wisps of smoke that squirmed and spun around her as if alive. A solid black mass covered most of her left hand and arm. The body of a girl of perhaps seven years old lay on the deck near her feet, her face a shriveled, leathery, dried, skeletal mask. With growing horror Cathy realized that this wasn't a surviving passenger; this was the mass murderer of her passengers and crew!
“Answer me, human,” the woman commanded.
“Ah, ah…” Cathy stammered.
“What’s the matter? Have you not seen death before?”
“Not like this.”
“The humans of this world are such sissies!”
“Did you do this?”
“Certainly. It is how I feed. I am a connoisseur of death. All life harbors complex energies that tantalize my own life-force most vividly at the moment of excruciating death.”
Cathy felt dizzy for a moment, but then it passed.
The woman smiled. “You are indeed the captain of this vessel I see, and its lead pilot, and your name is Cathy. And I have not killed or even greatly pained you to find all of that out! Practice makes perfect, I suppose. It has been centuries since I fed on humans and I was out of practice. How convenient it is to simply read the thoughts of a still functioning mind instead of crudely ripping confused fading thoughts from a dying brain! But you harbor dangerously foolish thoughts of escape and revenge! You really must obey me promptly, if you wish to live. The taste of death is much sweeter to me than the feeble hopeless thoughts of the living.”
“You are Greble the Witch, and you will kill me soon, no matter what I do,” Cathy said.
Greble’s eyebrows rose in surprise. Then she smiled. “Very interesting, Cathy! You read some of my thoughts even as I read yours! You must have a touch of human witch in you. Good; you will make me that much stronger when I consume your pathetic little soul.”
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