text: Tomas Rojas is looking forward to tonight’s flight to Buenos Aires. At the end of this flight, he will be officially retired. Tomas has spent thirty years flying for Latam Airlines in Chili. Tonight’s schedule is a special package tour of the Mardi Gras in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Tomas boards the plane and takes his seat in the pilot’s station. While he studies the checklist, his co-pilot, Juan, enters the cabin. Wearing a big grin, Juan slaps Tomas on his shoulder, “So this is really it! Your last trip for IPC. Tell me, what’s the first thing you’re going to do, Captain?” Tomas places the clipboard on the console and tips back his pilot’s hat. “To tell you the truth, I’m looking forward to a peaceful night’s sleep knowing I don’t have to get up in the morning for another flight!” The flight attendant sticks her head into the cockpit and tells the captain that all the passengers are aboard. Tomas smiles, thanks her, and picks up his microphone. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is your Captain speaking. We will leave Miami when I get the OK from the tower. The prevailing winds look favorable, so we should arrive in Buenos Aires in 8 hours and 50 minutes. So, please sit back and enjoy the flight.” The tower informs Tomas he is clear for take-off. He taxis to the end of the runway and turns around. Pushing the throttle forward, Tomas feels the plane vibrate under the power of the big jet engines. He turns and smiles at Juan as they start to roll down the runway. Having gathered enough momentum, Tomas pulls back on the tiller. That’s the last thing he remembers. ... Tomas can hear faint noises around him. He thinks he might be dreaming. Indistinct, undiscernable images flash through his head. He is starting to panic because he remembers he is flying the plane! Is he still in the air? Are they about to crash?” Tomas’s eyes fly open as he wildly looks around the room. A dazed look of bewilderment is on his face, for he is expecting to see the cockpit. Instead, he is sitting in a large hall or waiting area. He looks up and sees the corrugated ceiling with many steel cross bars. Down the center of the room are rows of seats. Sitting in the seats are his passengers. They appear to be unconscious. Tomas attempts to get to his feet when a gloved hand pushes him back into his chair. “Try to remain calm, Captain Rojas.” a muffled voice says. A man dressed in a complete hazmat uniform steps into view. The man’s face behind the faceshield smiles. “Everyone is safe.” Tomas leans forward, his heart pounding rapidly. He rests his elbows on his knees and runs his fingers through his wavy grey hair. The man in the hazmat suit waves his hand and summons a doctor. He continues, “My name is Martin Donoso, and I’m the chief detective for the Investigations Police of Chile.” A man approaches, also wearing a protective suit. Donoso introduces him. “This is Doctor Alvarado. Everyone is in quarantine because you all seem to have a low-grade fever. Dr. Alvarado needs to determine if you are contagious or not.” Tomas glances up at the doctor. In a strained voice, he whispers, “May I get a glass of water, please?” The doctor gestures to a nurse who retrieves a pitcher and a glass. Turning back to Tomas, he continues, “How are you feeling, Captain Rojas?” Tomas turns his palms up and shrugs. “Confused. Disorientated. I take it by the look of the terminal, we are on Easter Island? I’ve been here many times, but why are we here?” Detective Donoso looks at the doctor and then back to Rojas. “You see, Captain, that is the very thing we need to know. Why did you land here?” Tomas’s mind is entirely blank. He slumps in his seat and lays his forearm across his brow. A tear escapes the corner of his eye. “Oh, God! What has happened to me, to us?” Tomas shoots straight up and grabs Donoso by his arm. “My wife! I need to talk to Loreto!” Donoso smiles and gently pats Tomas’s hand. “Everything is fine. The PDI has notified your wife of the situation and has promised to keep her in touch. Our American counterpart is doing the same for the passengers. A representative from the US will be arriving shortly to speak with them. “Please, Captain, do you recall anything at all?” Tomas shakes his head. “The last thing I recall is the plane leaving the tarmac. Then waking up here.” Sitting directly across from Tomas, Detective Donoso reaches out and touches Tomas on his knee. “Captain, on the night you departed from Miami, the tower reports you were gaining altitude when suddenly you disappeared from the radar. The tower also states that all your flashing lights vanished simultaneously. You weren’t seen or heard from for the next ten days. Until you arrived here.” Tomas starts to tremble. “Ten d-d-days?” Donoso turns to the doctor, “Do you think the Captain could use a sedative? I don’t want him passing out again.” Tomas throws up his hands. “No, that won’t be necessary. I-I’ll be alright. It’s just a lot to take in, you know? Where’s my co-pilot, Juan Araya?” He turns his head and scans the room. Donoso points. “He’s over there by that wall. There’s a nurse with him. He might be coming around.” Tomas notices that many passengers are also reviving. They are looking around, as confused as he was. An elderly woman a few rows away is screaming hysterically. Nurses rush to her side. Tomas presses his temples hard, trying to clear his mind. “I don’t understand, Detective. Did we crash land here? I don’t see anyone hurt or injured.” Donoso shakes his head. “That’s the thing. The radar picked you up at about 10:45 pm. Your plane just appeared out of nowhere. The tower tried to hail you, but there was no response. As they watched, the aircraft came in low, made a perfect three-point landing, and shut off its engines. When the ground crew boarded the plane, they found you all unconscious. That’s when they called us. Captain, please, there must be something you can tell us. Think!” Rojas tries to remember and, yes, there is something, but it’s too faint. “Have you tried looking at the black box?” Tomas hears the disappointment in Donoso’s muffled voice “I’m afraid it’s blank.” Tomas knits his eyebrows together and looks around. He now sees the heavy plastic sealing the doors and windows, preventing the virus from escaping. “I’d like to speak with my co-pilot.” Donoso escorts the captain to where his co-pilot sits slumped in his chair. Tomas thinks Juan looks ill; his face is pale and drawn. Dark circles are noticeable beneath both eyes. Tomas looks at the nurse. “How is he? He looks bad.” The nurse informs him that Juan has a fever of 102 and suggests that Juan be transferred to the mobile ICU outside for close observation. Juan takes Tomas by the wrist. “Skipper, what’s going on? I feel terrible! Like I’m burning up!” Tomas feels helpless. He kneels and looks at Juan. “Hang in there, buddy! Noticing sweat on Juan’s brow, Tomas reaches into his pocket to retrieve his handkerchief. A small rectangular object falls into his co-pilot’s lap when he removes his hand. It looks metallic but is as thin as onion paper. Though it is transparent, Tomas thinks he can see what appears to be writing. The detective warns him not to touch it, but it is too late. Tomas has already picked it up. Tomas’s eyes roll up, and his head falls back. Images cascade through Tomas’s brain like a movie projector on fast-forward. Finally, he regains control. He gasps and exclaims to the detective. “You won’t believe this, but I know exactly what happened.” ... Tomas arrives at the intensive care unit with Juan. The doctor gives him an exam and takes his vitals. After they take some blood and leave, Tomas tells the detective what happened that night. “I remember everything was going smoothly when our wheels left the tarmac, and then the cabin lights began to flicker. I turned to ask Juan if there was a problem with the electrical system, but he was already unconscious. All the lights, including interior and exterior marker lights, suddenly went out. I tried calling the tower, but there was no response. I even tried pulling hard on the tiller to turn the plane around and return to the airport but without success. We were caught in a forcefield and couldn’t break free. Panicking, I foolishly kept flipping switches to see if I could regain power. That’s when I noticed something huge blotting out a large portion of the night sky. It was an alien ship that we were being drawn to. It felt like it took days. I would fall asleep and wake again, and it was still in the distance, dragging my plane toward it. Eventually, a square of light appeared above us, and our ascent to the alien craft increased rapidly, so much so that I closed my eyes in fear. When I opened them, I was in a large hangar large enough to hold a hundred 707s like mine. A voice inside my head beckoned me to leave the plane. I could not refuse. I opened the departure door, and a set of steps was already in place. A being stood at the foot of the steps. Fearing my legs might buckle, I nervously descended toward him. He was tall and dressed in a hooded robe. His features were nearly flat, and he did not speak but projected his thoughts onto me. This is what he communicated to me. “We call ourselves the Guardians. On your planet, we would be considered humanitarians. We travel from galaxy to galaxy looking for civilizations or planets in crisis. If it’s famine, we teach them new agricultural techniques. If it’s war, we help to negotiate peace. In 2019, we witnessed the COVID-19 virus decimate 14.9 million people globally. Your medical scientists got control of it but did not eradicate the virus. Each year since, the virus has mutated and become more difficult to eliminate. Our scientists have studied this mutation pattern and have correctly predicted that the next mutation will cause the end of humanity on your planet.” Tomas pauses to drink some water. Donoso notes how badly Rojas’s hands are shaking. Smiling weakly, Tomas continues. “He gave me that metal note and told me it was a formula to stop the coronavirus once and for all. He told me they infected Juan to use his blood to create the antibodies. Juan himself will be the first cured. The alien also said it would be a nasal spray, and in a year’s time, the virus would be terminated. After placing the formula in my pocket, I remembered nothing until a moment ago. The trip back must have caused amnesia. Thanks to these Guardians, the Earth will be saved!" ... Stationed at the edge of the universe, the alien spacecraft waits. On its bridge, the second-in-command approaches his leader. “Sir! I have the latest report on Earth. The nasal spray works as it was designed to do. It allowed the coronavirus to hibernate and grow much stronger than it ever would have. All the earthlings will soon die. The planet will be ours! Congratulations, Sir!” The alien commander stares at the blue planet on his screen. He shows no emotion as he says, “Good. I believe this is the thirteenth planet we have conquered. I love these bloodless wars.” His eyes seem to sparkle as he shifts them beneath their hooded slits toward his second. “Soon, we will rule the entire UNIVERSE!”