THE VANISHING

As I walked to Delta operations in Dallas I replayed what had happened.  I had just landed Delta Airlines Boeing-727 Flight 57. I had left L.A. that morning on the Early Bird flight heading for Atlanta with stops in Las Vegas and Dallas.  The flight to Las Vegas had been routine.  We then took off, climbing to altitude and leveled off above the desert at Flight Level 370 just as the sun rose above the eastern horizon.  It was blinding so I pulled my sunscreen down and closed my eyes.  The sun was warm on my face making me drowsy.  I must have dozed off for a few seconds.  Awaking with a start I turned to apologize to the other guys and was surprised to see they weren't there.  I was alone in the cockpit.

This was unacceptable, so I called for a flight attendant.  No one answered.  I made a PA asking for one to come forward.  No response.  Making sure the aircraft was safely on autopilot, I got out of my seat, walked back to the cockpit door, and opened it.  The airplane was empty!

In shock, I rushed back and strapped in my seat.  The sky was clear so I could see the desert below and mountains in the distance.   Checking the fuel gauges, I saw they were normal.  Fighting to control my panic I squawked 7700, the emergency code on the transponder and called air traffic control center.  While they were searching for me, I checked my VOR to establish my position.  About the same time center found me, I established my position as 50 miles east of Tuba City, Arizona. I declared an emergency and asked center for clearance direct Dallas. They asked the nature of my emergency.  I stammered, "I-I don't know.  Everything is crazy up here."  They came back with, "Roger, Delta 57, fly heading 095.  Keep us advised."   I continued the flight to Dallas, playing pilot and flight engineer.  Back in my Captain zone the flight, approach, and landing were uneventful.

On my arrival in Dallas, the station manager met me and escorted me to operations. The station manager was just as shocked as I was.  He had no idea what I was doing there.  He took me to the pilot lounge to rest while he contacted the company.

I fell asleep immediately and had a dream.  It was horrible.  I was sitting in my cockpit seat when suddenly an apparition appeared as if it came right out of the aircraft, like St. Elmo's fire.  It was hovering in front of the instrument panel.

The station manager came in and woke me.  I could tell he was nervous as he told me the company was sending some people out from Atlanta, and in the meantime, they wanted him to take me to the hospital for a check-up.  Still in a state of unbelief and shock, I agreed with him and got up. On the way, the station manager asked me to tell him again when I left L.A.  I told him,  "This morning, we pushed back at four o'clock.  The hour meter on the aircraft should confirm my flight time."  Looking at me with a strange look on his face he said, "Your flight has been missing for over a month."

"You're crazy!  I said.  What the hell is going on?"  "Your guess is as good as mine." He replied.  On the way to the hospital the music on the car radio was interrupted by a news bulletin.  "The passengers and crew, with the exception of the Captain, from Delta Air Lines Flight 57 that went missing last month have been found at a highway rest stop near Tuba City, Arizona.  They all appear to be in good health.  Without exception, they all tell the same story.  The last thing they remember is the airplane suddenly being engulfed with what looked like static electricity or St. Elmos Fire, as sailors of old called it."  More to follow...

Marshall Kimbrough-Warren