Airplane- - Apertem Os Cintos O Piloto Sumiu -n... Info

I looked out the left window. The stars are gone. All of them. Just a flat, velvet dark, like the sky has been painted over.

The autopilot disengaged.

Because whatever took him is still on this plane. And it’s learning how to fly.

I asked Araújo what the “-N...” at the end of the subject line means. He looked at me like I’d spoken a dead language. Then he typed it into the navigation computer. Airplane- - Apertem os Cintos O Piloto Sumiu -N...

The autopilot is still on. The heading shows we’re flying in a perfect 180-mile loop over dense jungle. I’ve checked every door, every closet, every crawlspace in this fuselage. There are 48 passengers, all calm because they don’t know yet. All I told them was to keep their belts fastened due to “mild turbulence.”

Aircraft: Embraer Legacy 600 Position: Unknown, over the Amazon Basin

Captain Mendes had gone to the lavatory twelve minutes ago. He never came back. I looked out the left window

Co-pilot Araújo is strapped into his seat, but his hands are shaking too hard to work the radio. He keeps muttering the same phrase under his breath: “Apertem os cintos. O piloto sumiu.”

Airplane- - Apertem os Cintos O Piloto Sumiu -N...

Fasten your seatbelts. The pilot has disappeared. Just a flat, velvet dark, like the sky has been painted over

If you receive this log, do not look for us. Do not follow the coordinates. And for the love of God, do not unfasten your seatbelt.

Nobody.

But there is no pilot to verify. Only an empty lavatory, a ticking watch, and a message that keeps reappearing on every screen in the cockpit: