My father always said he had two girls, me and this plane. I’ve always loved flying in her, the way the wind whirrs around me, the way she shivers in my hands as I lift her from solid ground. She takes me above the earth to where the sunrises kiss my face and my worries are left in her dust below. I’ve been flying in this exact plane my entire life, first as my father’s enthusiastically drooling passenger, with a pacifier in my mouth to help with my ears. Then as a student, spending hours learning all the tips and tricks Dad knew about takeoffs, landings and keeping her steady. Now, as her owner.

When Dad passed, he willed her to me. Her name is Qilaq, it means sky or heaven in Inuit. My grandmother was a strong Inuit woman and my father told me he named his plane that because whenever he went up for a flight he felt closer to his mama. Like he was just grazing the heavens that she was resting in. He’d often smile when we flew, just this random grin and tears would crest his bottom lids. Whenever I asked him what was wrong he’d brush them away with the back of his hand and tell me, “I swear I saw my mom waving to me from that cloud there.”

I never found it scary or weird. Not when I saw the comfort it brought him. Qilaq brought him closer to his mother the same way she brings me closer to him now. I never feel his presence stronger than when I’m flying high above the earth in her.

“Watch out, Cait!”

I know I don’t really hear his voice. Dad passed two years ago. A massive heart attack took him from me in an instant and I’ve never heard his voice since. But I swear on my life I just heard him now.

“Get her on the ground, baby. Drop Qilaq down.”

I sit up straighter and see some fast moving, dark clouds in the distance. Damn it! I checked the forecast at least ten times, there was nothing about any storm rolling in. Still, there’s no arguing with the black, billowy promise of death up ahead.

Trying to do my checks, the plane begins to hit air pockets and turbulence ping-pongs me around like a cat battering a toy. My focus lasers in as I struggle to bring Qilaq under control. Descending toward the snowy earth, I struggle so hard to keep her steady that beads of sweat cover my body like a rashy heat.

The yoke trembles violently in my hands, I grit my teeth together and use every muscle in my body to hold on tight. Snow streaks by my windshield as I hit the weather I’m trying so hard to avoid. With the speed of the plane, every heavy snowflake blends together in a white blanket of confusion. I’m doing my best to navigate a safe landing, but it’s hard to tell up from down.

“Prepare yourself for the impact, Cait. You know what to do.” My father’s voice is calm and stable, it’s everything I’m not feeling right now.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t contain the icy wave of panic splashing around in my guts. It’s freezing me from the inside, making me stiff and cold like this snow squall will when I hit the ground.

No. I won’t give up. Dad’s right, I know how to deal with this. I’ve been flying this plane since I was twelve years old, if anyone can do this, it’s me.

“Come on, girl, let’s go down easy. I want us both to come out of this alive,” I whisper to the Cessna. To the only remaining link I have to my family. To my sister.

I push my anxiety down, swallowing it into a lead lump and breathe deep. There’s still time to fix this. Outside, the ground coming up at me too fast. Fear threatens to choke me out before the crash can ever kill me. My heart is pounding so hard it’s whooshing in my ears. I can feel it beating in tiny pulses in the tips of my fingers as I try to bring the nose up a bit. Not too high. Just enough to even out this landing a bit. Luckily, the land below is barren and white. I’m in no danger of hurting anyone.

Just myself.

Finally, the wheel touches down on the earth. The entire plane howls in protest, shaking like a dog just freed from the bath. I feel like Qilaq is trying to fling me from inside her as she crashes into the endless carpet of white. I can’t hold on. My hands fly from the yoke, instinctively covering my face as we crash across the icy tundra. It’s an eternity of ear-splitting shrieks, from both Qilaq and me, as she spins around in a dizzying blur. I’m spinning free from my body. Spinning free from my mind. There are no thoughts. There are barely breaths as we spiral out of control together.

And then it’s over.

My Cessna is shredded around me. The cold wind attacks my body and it takes a second to realize that it’s because my plane isn’t protecting me from the elements. Everything looks like a photograph taken out of focus, even though I’m pretty sure I’ve stopped moving. The world is fuzzy and white, like a big, comforting blanket on a chilly morning. All I want to do is snuggle in and sleep.

Wait, I try to blink my eyes into focus, are those people? My hand flops around, searching for a radio that’s somehow just out of reach. The world narrows, a tunnel of darkness surrounds me on all sides, all I can see is a big black bear and a couple blurs running in the distance. I must be hallucinating.

“Help.” I try to scream it, but it’s nothing more than a hoarse whisper lost in the wind. I fight so hard to open my heavy eyelids, I know I need to stay conscious. I can’t give up. I’m not a quitter. But my choice is taken away, just like my father was. Just like my plane was. That all-encompassing blackness must have followed me down from the stormy clouds because I fall into it, and soon all I see is dark.