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

Now the cabin lights are flickering. Portuguese, English, and a third language I don’t recognize are cycling through the PA system. The third one sounds like consonants folding in on themselves. The passengers are screaming.

Nobody.

Captain Mendes had gone to the lavatory twelve minutes ago. He never came back. Airplane- - Apertem os Cintos O Piloto Sumiu -N...

The last transmission from the tower, before we lost contact: “Legacy 600, you are deviating from controlled airspace. Please verify your pilot’s identity. Repeat: verify your pilot’s identity.”

I think the “N” stands for Ninguém . Now the cabin lights are flickering

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.”

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.” The passengers are screaming

The coordinates changed. We’re not over Brazil anymore. According to the instruments, we are exactly 47 nautical miles northwest of a location that does not exist on any chart. The secondary radar shows nothing . No ground, no sky, just a solid black ring on the scope.