The Mystery aboard Flight 224 to Denver. ✈️

Everything started smoothly and on schedule, as Flight 224 prepared for a hopefully event free journey into the wild blue yonder...the pilot made his final upbeat announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, good afternoon and welcome aboard. This is your captain speaking. We’re just about ready for departure—cabin crew has secured the cabin and we’ve received clearance from the tower. We expect a smooth climb out today, with good weather along our route. So please, sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight. Cabin crew, prepare for takeoff.”

The plane moved smoothly and normally across the runway, then soared off into the sky.

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A short while later....Inside the Air traffic Control Center...there’s a tense, atmospheric exchange as Flight 224 to Denver suddenly vanishes from radar.

ATC Tower – 22:40 MDT

RADAR TECH (Miller):
Uh… Tower, I’ve got a dropout on scope. Flight 224 just faded. No transponder, no primary return.

CONTROLLER (Harris):
224? That’s the Denver inbound? Check your filters.

Miller:
Already did. It’s not clutter. It’s gone.

Harris:
Alright. Patch me to their frequency.

(presses headset)
Flight 224, Denver Center. Radio check.
…
224, Denver Center, do you read?

SUPERVISOR (Grant):
What’s the issue?

Harris:
We lost 224. No radar, no ADS‑B. Trying to raise them.

Grant:
Try guard frequency.

Harris:
Copy.

(switches channel)
Flight 224, Denver Center calling on guard. If you hear this, ident or respond.
…
No response.

Miller:
Still nothing on primary. I’m sweeping the sector manually.

Grant:
Check last known altitude.

Miller:
Last hit was FL330, steady. No deviation, no descent rate. Just… blinked out.

Harris:
224, Denver Center. If you’re experiencing radio failure, squawk 7600.
…
Nothing.

Grant:
Try relay through nearby traffic.

Harris:
On it.

(new channel)
SkyWest 512, Denver Center. Can you attempt contact with Flight 224? They should be ten miles east of your position.
…
SKYWEST 512: Negative, Center. No visual. No TCAS target.

Miller:
Center, I’m widening the sweep. Still no skin paint.

Grant:
Alright. Log the loss of contact. Notify search coordination. Keep trying them every thirty seconds.

Harris:
Copy.

(steady, calm voice despite tension)
Flight 224, Denver Center continues to call. If you hear this transmission, respond on any frequency.

...

Silence.

Miller:
It’s like they fell off the map.

Grant:
Planes don’t just disappear. Keep working the sector. We’ll escalate.

..................

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Aboard flight 224...An unauthorized transmission began the moment Jenkins removed his headset...it was not from any known tower...but Jenkins was not privy to it without his headset on. It was almost as if it were planned that way. But it could also be just a coincidence.

"Can you hold the fort Cap...I need to run to the loo"...First Officer and co-pilot, Arne Jenkins indelicately said to his Commander. The two had been flying together for five years, from back when Jenkins was just a rookie.

"No problem J. The fort is safe with me". He chuckled, pretty much used J's audacious quips.

As Jenkins exited the cockpit, he heard the controls crackle and his captain preparing to acknowledge the transmission. Strange, he thought...his headgear was off, he shouldn't be hearing the sounds from the headset...and what was that strange booming sound out the left side window of the airplane, thunder maybe?...He shook his head and proceeded to the bathroom hoping for clear weather.

Captain Kirk Murray was a seasoned pilot of almost twenty years, he had seen and experienced a lot of strange phenomenon...But when the air crackled...and the sudden silence descended upon him, he felt chills run down his spine. He adjusted his headset, the crackle hadn't come from the headset - maybe it had accidentally turned off.

Flight headsets are designed for aviation environments, providing clear communication, noise reduction, and hearing protection for pilots. Unlike regular headphones, these headsets are engineered to meet the demands of cockpit communication and are essential for safe flying.

There was no way any tower anywhere would be messing with the regular transmissions...but, if not from the headset...then where was the origin of the...he paused, searching around for anomalies.

But not a single light was visible on the control panel.

Then the transmission began! The voice was strange, speaking in broken English... It sounded almost...alien in origin...like those voice-over messages you hear on TV.

"We...are...in...control...now. We...have...taken...over. We...are... in...control...now"! The same message being repeated over and over again.

Murray felt his seat being pushed back, his hands relinquishing the autonomy of guiding the plane. His headset slipped off, dangling in air. Panic was not in his nature...but...what the hell was happening? Murray tried to leave his seat...he could not move his body at all anymore.

Except for the eerie broadcast which had no obvious origin, for he could still hear it ...without headset on. Everywhere around him was dead silent.

.....Exactly seven minutes later, Jenkins exited the bathroom. He had had to wait for a free bathroom..."It sucks that pilots do not have a special bathroom on commercial aircrafts. They share the same lavatories as passengers. During long flights, pilots take turns using the restroom, and in larger aircraft, they may have a designated rest area. However, there are no exclusive restrooms for pilots; they typically use the passenger facilities. It just sucks". He thought to himself, making his way back to the cockpit.

"And furthermore, why is this called a 'cockpit'...it's not as if this is a cockfighting arena...or guys measuring their....". He paused mid-chuckle.

"Wait a minute, something is wrong here".

There was no sound on the plane. Dead silence as a matter of fact.

Jenkins hurriedly opened the door to the cockpit. Captain Murray was not in his seat. In fact both seats were pulled way back, as if they had not adjusted them for pre-flight. The plane must be was on auto pilot. But the lights were not indicating...the flight was going well - so who or what was piloting the aircraft.

Pilot seats on planes are designed to be adjustable to ensure comfort and ergonomics for the pilots. This adjustment is crucial for maintaining the correct position for visibility and control of the aircraft. Properly adjusted seats help reduce fatigue and improve safety during flights. Why would they now be positioned as if no one had been sitting there.

He peered out the window...Jenkins couldn't see anything - there was just blank space. He checked again...strangely...auto pilot seemed to be working just fine. He spun around, rushing to locate the flight attendants...there was no one in their cubicles.

He pulled the dividers to peer out at the passengers. THERE WAS NO ONE ANYWHERE. Jenkins walked the entire length and breadth of the plane. He was alone on the plane, which previously had been carrying 245 people, including passengers and crew.

How can 244 people disappear from a Wide-body and large commercial jet flying 30,000–40,000 ft. up in the sky?

How long can the plane fly on what he supposed was auto pilot?

How long can the plane fly before running out of fuel?

All of these thoughts flashed through his head almost simultaneously.

Jenkin rushed back to the cockpit...grabbing his headset he clamped it over his ears...

"Denver Tower, this is flight 224, do you read....". Click. "Denver Tower, this is flight 224, do you copy....".

No static...no sound - Just... Silence.

He remembered the dark-out on the panel.

"We...are...in...control...now. We...have...taken...over. We...are...in...control...now"! Who the hell was speaking through dead air?

He staggered back...stepping sideways to sit in his chair...but there was a resistance, as if someone was already sitting there.

"What the f#@k". Jenkins swore, barely audible, falling over his own feet - trying to grasp what in the name of all that is holy was going on.

"We...are...in...control...now. We...have...taken...over. We...are...in...control...now"! Echoed now loudly, all throughout the plane, not confined to the headset or visible mode of transmission. It was not being transmitted over any type of frequency...just echoing in the still air.

Jenkins turned slowly towards Murray's chair. He reached out towards the dead air...but it was not dead...it was occupied. He just could not see anything. He could only feel the presence of someone sitting there - someone invisible... unmoving. The captain's headset was dangling and useless.

"Help me". Something or someone whispered.

Jenkins recoiled...completely creeped out and disturbed. The voice was Captain Murray's. But...why couldn't he see him.

What in God's name had happened to the people on the plane? And why was he the only one visible in this nightmare. Maybe he had fallen asleep in the bathroom...he slapped his face hard.

"God dammit". That stung...He was awake.

Whatever had happened, it had missed him solely because he had to take a whiz. The bathroom had saved him...but from what. He stumbled from the cockpit.

Jenkins reached out his hands and felt bodies where flight attendants should be...he walked by passenger seats and felt people sitting in their seats

Where did everyone go, and what was in their seats? People just don't go invisible.

A sort of wailing and buzzing of inaudible voices began to emanate from the empty seats...could it be the passengers all speaking at once. He couldn't tell what they were saying. Frustration and fatigue were beginning to take its toll. Nothing worked... ...nothing - except the infernal ominous words.

"We...are...in...control...now"!

Oh God! The wailing was awful. He felt like he was trapped in a horror film.

Down the passage, he heard a bathroom flush. Oh Jesus! ... someone else was in a bathroom! Hurrying down the isle, he saw a teenage boy exiting the bathroom. The young man took a few steps...looked right and left - then stood still, mouth agape.

Both he and Jenkins stared at one another. Jenkins placed his finger on his lips, signalling silence and hurriedly walked towards the teenager. He pointed to the bathroom...The young man mouthed...

"Hell no, you a perv or something"? He took a few seconds, looked around, heard the weird moaning sounds, then turned to the bathroom he had just exited, as Jenkins insisted with gestures.

This suffocating space was not ergonomically designed for two men to squeeze into...but...necessity - the mother of invention and creativity and all - he acceded.

"Jenkins". He said. pointing to himself.

"Greg. What's with the ghostly sounds". The youth asked.

"We are the only two people who are visible on the plane".

"What do you mean visible, who is flying the plane then, ghosts"?

"I think it's on autopilot - to control the path of the aircraft without requiring constant intervention by a human operator. It doesn't replace human operators, but it assists them allowing them to focus on broader aspects of operations, like monitoring the trajectory, weather and on-board systems". He explained, mainly to soothe his own mind.

"You think it's on autopilot?...what the hell is going on...where is everybody, did the plane land while I was in the bathroom and take off again from the Twilight Zone"?

"We...are...in...control...now. We...have...taken...over. We...are...in...control...now"! The announcement came as if on cue again.

"Who is in control now"? Greg asked, furrowing his brows...perplexed and a bit nervous.

Before Jenkins could answer...

.....Horrible screams suddenly filled the entire plane. The two men, one not quite grown, squeezed themselves from the tiny bathroom.

Four forms, now barely visible and shimmering, had risen from the seats, they were now glowing as they screamed terribly - then their bodies seemed to implode...leaving only smoky residues.

Another loud boom was heard from the right side of the plane. The walls seemed to warp and expand, then stretch itself through the chairs and whatever was sitting in the chairs - as if something unseen had passed through. Then the walls righted themselves.

The men gasped. The younger one fascinated, the older man horrified.

"Hell no, no way that just happened". Greg whispered, intrigued. "Have we been taken over by ghosts or aliens"? He reached for his phone, but it was quite dead.

"Forget it. Everything is dead. I have no idea how whatever this is, is even operating the plane. It's just dead air and mystery as far as I can tell".

"What are we going to do, we can't fight what we can't see"? Greg whispered again.

"We...are...in...control...now. We...have...taken...over. We...are...in...control...now"!

"I don't think that whatever it is can see us. Maybe that's why it turned everyone invisible. Maybe they are not aware of our presence, the bathrooms shielded us, I'm guessing". Jenkins mused.

"So who was screaming and exploding". Asked Greg...both of them whispering.

Jenkins was appalled at how calm the young man was. It seems the young are inured to violence and death these days. He blamed technology. All this youth wanted to do was grab his phone and record everything...which as not a bad idea, if only they could see clearly what to record!

"I think it may have been some of the passengers...but...".

"I see what you mean. Do you think they are already dead. I mean, they exploded, imploded or whatever...how will we even know"? The young man asked.

Jenkin's stomach was feeling queasy....guilt had frozen his thoughts. He somehow felt responsible, he was nor sure in what way.

"Maybe we could use the fire extinguisher?...If you activated and sprayed it, something would become visible". Greg said hopefully.

"That is a good idea. Actually...Fire extinguishers are strategically located in the cockpit, passenger cabin, galleys, lavatories, and accessible cargo compartments to ensure rapid response to fires". Jenkins explained.

They searched everywhere, there were none...it's as if they had been deliberately removed. But why? Had the 'invisible beings' anticipated this and removed them?

Jenkins felt frightened and helpless.

Up and down the plane, people were materializing in ghostly form, screaming, exploding and becoming smoke residues. The sides of the plane kept warping and reshaping. He and Greg tried to help, but it was no use, whenever they got to one spot, another spot imploded/exploded.

"Where do you think we're going". Greg was not amused anymore, he just wanted it all to stop. He was travelling alone...he wanted to go home.

"I have no idea anymore...It's like we are going nowhere...very slowly. We have no one to talk to. No one to explain anything. Just silence and a transmission from nothing and no one visible". Jenkins felt the weight of the enormous responsibility of failing the people on the plane...their families.

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Except for Jenkins and Greg....On board flight 224, it seems the entire list of passengers had gone up in smoke. Jenkins made his way back to the cockpit...Greg close behind, he was taking no chances. Jenkin's hand still felt the resistance in both his and Murry's chair. Whatever was there was still blocking him.

Despite everything...Jenkins donned his headset and sent one last garbled transmission, hoping that tower would respond. But...

Greg staggered back, horrified as Jenkins disappeared in a puff of smoke. The last thing Jenkins saw as he turned his head, was the smoke residue before Greg too, disappeared.

Meanwhile, down on the ground...

23:47 MDT – Tower Frequency

HARRIS (Controller):
Flight 224, Denver Center continues to call. If you hear this transmission, respond on any—

RADIO:
—kkshhh—
—224… …copy… …do you…

HARRIS:
Flight 224, say again. Your transmission is unreadable.

RADIO:
…not… control…
…light… everywhere…
—kkshhh—
…can’t… see… horizon…

MILLER (Radar Tech) voice excited:
We’ve got a carrier wave! That’s them. That’s definitely them.

HARRIS:
224, Denver Center. We read you partially. State your altitude and condition.

RADIO:
…alt… three— no—
…instruments… spinning…
—kkshhh—
…don’t… know… where…

GRANT (Supervisor):
Ask for souls on board. Try to anchor them.

HARRIS:
Flight 224, confirm souls on board and fuel remaining.

RADIO:
…everyone’s… here… but…
…voices… bodies not… right…
—kkshhh—
…Center… are you… seeing us…?

HARRIS:
Negative, 224. We do not have you on radar. Say your position.

RADIO:
…we’re… still… in the sky… but…
…sky’s… wrong…
…wrong…
—kkshhh—
…please…

MILLER:
Signal strength dropping.

HARRIS:
224, Denver Center—stay with us. Keep transmitting. We’re here.

RADIO:
…trying…
…trying…
—kkshhh—
…don’t let… us… fall…die

The transmission cuts. Total silence.

Here’s the moment the impossible calm arrives—224 transmits, sounding perfectly normal, as if the last few minutes never existed.

23:49 MDT – Tower Frequency

RADIO (sudden, clear, crisp):
Denver Center, good evening—Flight 224 checking in at flight level three-three-zero. Smooth ride. How copy?

HARRIS (Controller freezes):
…Flight 224, Denver Center, we read you loud and clear. Confirm—did you experience any earlier transmission issues?

RADIO:
Negative, Center. Comms have been solid. We’re showing normal instruments. Requesting descent instructions when ready.

MILLER (Radar Tech, staring at the scope):
I’ve got them. They just popped back in—steady return, perfect transponder. Like they were never gone.

GRANT (Supervisor, quietly):
Guide them in. Don’t mention the dropout yet.

HARRIS (voice steady):
Flight 224, roger. You are cleared to descend to flight level two-four-zero. Expect vectors for approach. Say fuel state.

RADIO:
Fuel is optimal, Center. Two-four-zero, descending now.

MILLER:
Altitude decreasing exactly as commanded. Everything’s normal.

HARRIS:
224, when able, advise if you had any anomalies with navigation or autopilot.

RADIO:
Center, negative. All systems nominal.
(light chuckle)
Quiet night up here.

Harris, Grant, and Miller exchange a look.

GRANT:
Keep them talking. Bring them home.

HARRIS:
Flight 224, continue descent. Turn left heading one-eight-zero. You’re looking good for the arrival.

RADIO:
Left one-eight-zero. Appreciate it, Center.
…
And for what it’s worth—
(brief pause)
—we didn’t hear any of your earlier calls.

HARRIS:
Copy that, 224. We’ll debrief on the ground. Continue inbound.

RADIO:
Inbound. See you soon.

The tower watches the blip glide smoothly toward Denver—perfect, ordinary, impossibly normal.

The plane landed without a hitch.

As the doors opened...everything on the outside began to warp. The passengers who got off were not the ones who got on.

But, who would be able to tell the difference...except the passengers and crew of flight 224 to Denver.

All 245 of them.

"We...are...in...control...now. We...have...taken...over! Echoed everywhere.