The loud explosion shook the aircraft.

James Smith’s hands gripped the yoke, to stop the plane from diving down as soon as the autopilot disengaged. His eyes rapidly scanned the displays to determine the cause.

Errors and warnings lit up and blinked rapidly: drops in oil pressure, the engine’s revolutions per minute plummeting to zero with alarming speed, side-pull to the right-side.

Turbine failure is a pilot’s worse nightmare. But this was a nightmare he trained for.

“Concord Tower, Cessna 117 Tango Sierra I Denting, I’m losing my engine.” James called to the control tower, keeping his voice as level as possible. “Sputtering in and out and losing power.”

“You can proceed direct to the runaway, 117 Tango Sierra. Clear to land.” Was the response.

The runaway was ten miles out. Too far.

“Engine power’s dropping too fast to make it. I’m flying over a residential area, looking for a place to land.”

The checklist ran through James’s head. Throttle to engine set completely off. Fuel shutoff valve closed. Cut off hydraulics. Look for a safe place to land.

That last part was the trickiest.

Too many houses, too much movement, too little space to land successfully—

Wait. An open field.

There.

James kept the nose up, and dropped down the landing gears. The propeller stilled.

“I have lost full engine power, I have no engine. Have eyes on an open space, gonna try drop in.” He called out.

Tower’s response: “Rodge that. No engine, emergency landing. Charlotteville has been notified, and we got guys coming to you, 117 Tango Sierra.”

“Rodger.”

James exhaled slowly. Gripped the wheel tighter. And whispered out a prayer as he began his descent.