The plane’s wing was barely visible in the night, excluding the bright light at its tip. Roxie stared out into the bleak, navy sky and squinted, attempting to see through the clouds. It was the middle of July and despite the sweat-suit she wore, she was freezing. To add to her discomfort, she felt nauseous. An uneasy feeling had settled within her gut and it wasn’t from the turbulence.
Cupping a hand over her mouth, the ebony-haired woman turned her gaze to her lap where a copy of USA Today lay. Oahu often received the newspaper late, which left her little time to act. Ten hours on a plane to the Mainland, along with a layover in Denver, was horribly inconvenient. However, when Roxie saw the article that read “FLIGHT 420 STILL MISSING IN ATLANTIC OCEAN â?, she knew that a chain of events had begun. These events would- as usual- decide the fate of humanity. Once more Roxie peered into the abyss outside the window. It wouldn’t be long by that point.
The plane had begun its descent into Washington DC